Tom's Poems

Green sword cuts
Blood drips
Beauty freezes time.

Miniature canopy
Red lanterns below
Invites pollinators. 

Red lanterns in green bower
Lovers invited
Come fly to me – time freezes.
 

This is the city of Boston 
The land of the bean and the cod,
Where the weaving guild staunchly looks backwards
To the glory in which it once trod.

This is the weather, so hot and so wet
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.

These are the eggs that were laid in a mound
To be hatched by the weather in hot, soggy ground
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.

There are the dinos that hatched 
From the eggs that were laid in a mound
To be hatched by the weather in hot, soggy ground
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.

This is the spot, now called Pompey
Where Scipionyxes, one fine day, hatched
From the eggs that were laid in a mound
To be hatched by the weather in hot, soggy ground
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.

There one dino, now called Skippy,
Fell down a slope that was too slippy,
In the spot, now called Pompey
Where Scipionyxes, one fine day, hatched
From the eggs that were laid in a mound
To be hatched by the weather in hot, soggy ground
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.

Now a fossil covered with ash
Woops, he was almost thrown out with the trash
He’s the dino, now called Skippy,
Fell down a slope that was too slippy,
In the spot, now called Pompey
Where Scipionyxes, one fine day, hatched
From the eggs that were laid in a mound
To be hatched by the weather in hot, soggy ground
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.

Go to Naples, the time is ripe -- see the  liver and wind pipe
Of a fossil covered with ash
Woops, he was almost thrown out with the trash
He’s the dino, now called Skippy,
Fell down a slope that was too slippy,
In the spot, now called Pompey
Where Scipionyxes, one fine day, hatched
From the eggs that were laid in a mound
To be hatched by the weather in hot, soggy ground
That covered the land of long, long ago
Where the tall ferns and high shrubs grow.
 

Two swabbies, Peruvian navy
Decided to dine on a cavy
But that smart little pig
Gnawed out of the brig
Squeeking "If you think I'm dinner, 
You're crazy".
 

Mockery, mimicry,
Mesembryanthemum
Small desert plants
That we struggle to grow.

Shyly they hide 
Behind hot arid outcrops, 
Photosynthetically
Stars of the show.