Day six of month one
Another Epiphany
Recognize our King
Live PD blues
I watch them weekly
No way I could do this job
Cops have my respect
A silent retweet
Retreating bishops
Still posting things on Twitter
A silent retweet
Six strings stilled
A dusty guitar
If only these hands were skilled
It may sing again
No tree to see
Christmas tree is packed
Decór is not as festive
Joy still in our hearts
New Year, still in the teens
It is a new year
We have one more in the teens
Don’t want to look back
My Viking Face
My Viking Face
©2018 Matt Keough
By Hägar’s beard I do swear
Mine face doth sprout untamed hair
Silver! Amber! Raven black!
It resists the razor’s hack
Like to the fjords the rivers flow
Towards all compass points it does grow
While I’d hoped I’d look adorable
Good Christian folk find it horrible
A poem written in haste
It is a day for poems
in our school and in our homes.
Sorry, but I’ve no time
to craft a better rhyme,
Where the meadowlarks sang
I am at the place the meadowlarks sang
I want to hear that lilting
That sweet song is not found here
My ears are dulled by years indoors
Have they fled this place or simply ceased singing?
Bring This Woman Irish Whiskey
She wanted Tullamore Dew
It was gone, thanks to her crew
The Chivas in her glass
Made her choke and then gasp
What’s a poor woman to do!?