Like the goats of old
These ones grow increasingly bold
For they see that at the end
There's more food for those who remain in the pen.
I don't know why it's so hard to find
A 'greeting' card of a different kind.
One that is simple, yet so direct
That is tasteful and not suspect.
Darwin had a fish named Very Brighte
‘Twas marked with spots of orange amongst the white
Such a fine example of selective breed'n
'Twould be a shame to see him eat'n.
It's not the best
But why throw her out
In this weather
And the alternative?
Those who as saprophytes live
Expecting others to sacrifice
So they can exist in deluded peace
Poems are like chocolate
The more you taste the more desperate
You become to sate your lust.
The muses tease and offer just
Mostly he just stood there
Next to the fence
Looking at what,
We knew not
Karl Ludwig Kahlbaum
In 1874, Karl Ludwig sat
Staring at his cat
Old age is a stage in our lives,
and like all other stages
it has a face of its own,
its own atmosphere and temperature,