Fur Storm

A stoat during Winter’s an ermine.
An ermine in Summer’s a stoat.
If it springs and you fall, then it’s vermin
A damned weasel affixed to your throat!

We’re supposed to use hues to determine—

By its brown or white fur—how to vote;
But I say if teeth jut when it’s squirmin’,
It’s a weasel—until it’s a coat.

Some find a fur-garment prestigious,
Think the varmint looks fine on their form;
Others hold that to harm it’s egregious;
Fur as fashion’s a fatuous norm!

Yet when breezes or blizzards besiege us,
It’s the one who wears white who’s kept warm.
While brown fur is an anti-rain aegis.
Is there any escape from this storm?

A challenge poem incorporating 5 random words: AEGIS, ERMINE, FATUOUS, JUT, KEPT

Stopping by a Feral Lab on a Snowy Evening*

Whose dog this is, I’d have to guess.
No tags that I can see, unless
They’re camouflaged by fur and muck.
--It’s possible he’s ownerless.

To be a feral dog must suck
Surviving by his wits and luck
On vermin meals and scavenged snacks
While dodging the dog-catcher’s truck.

If he lets his attention lapse
He’ll end up in the catcher’s traps
Then be imprisoned. Or, worse fate,
Run over by by a car, perhaps.

I’d like a dog, at any rate.
Maybe he’d like to be my mate.
I’ll offer him this bone as bait.
I’ll offer him this bone as bait.

*(with apologies to Robert Frost)

Two Seers on a Pier

Two seers on a pier by the sea
Said let us peer to foresee what will be.
It appears, said one peer,
Though your future is clear,
Now and here, it stills sears when you pee.

The Burial of Br'er Bear

Br’er Boar, said “Br’er Bear was our peer,
“But to bear him we barely have power.
“If we borrowed a barrow or bier,
“We could bury him under a bower.
“But beware, there are bristle burrs near
“And blackberry briars are in flower.
“What a bore. Let’s just bury him here.
“Then be back to our beers in an hour."

If The Press Secretary Should Yawn

If the Press Secretary should yawn
As news correspondents look on,
They should weigh before judging
That when facts need fudging
She's up in the crack of Don.

A Ladder to the Former

A sinner in Hell built a ladder,
High enough to complain to his Former.
 Said the former to the latter,
“I could have been badder.”
“Well, Hell,” said his Former, “could be warmer!”