no dead birds in the oven
no innards in the stuffing
nor fatty drippings to be scraped and poured

the smell of roasted veggies
wafts through  the wintry air
pumpkin and sweet potatoes
marshmallows  green beans  lentils
turnips  & collard greens
hashed browns & black-eyed peas
quinoa  sorghum cuscus hummus
carrots  leak  broccoli Romanescu
gumbo in southern regions
wild rice dishes in the north
tastily spiced with turmeric
cumin and baked paprika
Indian curry  soy sauce  chipotle
as well as with the usual suspects
of garlic  salt  and pepper
and whatever fits the taste of hosts

in short
a venerable feast to demonstrate
how nature feeds us a large cornucopia
of plants for our delight and sustenance

in short
no need to **** a bird

                * * *

dear Donald
fare thee well
and may you roast
in hell
for all the damage
you have caused

The Muse who promised I could write
Has shamed me in a public way
By dressing me in Poet’s gowns
And nudging me into the light,

While all my songs are in one key
And the words I paint are common.

The shining glow of that first bow
Reinforced my fantasy,
Encouraged me to carry on
And offer up my skimpy soul

To those who know the Emperor
And what he does and does not wear.

Calliope assured me I could sing
(With fingers crossed behind her back)
And handed me a lyric pen
That didn’t hold a lot of ink.

She told the orchestra to begin
And handed me the microphone.

She promised hollyhocks and orchids,
And pillowy clouds in pale blue skies.
She said I’d write harpsichords and Temple Bells
And paint sonatas in the morning sun.

I held out my basket but it remained empty
I extended my hand, but it was not taken.

I stand ashamed at center Stage
Immersed in beauty I can’t create;
Red faced at my lack of talent
To even manage playing chopsticks.
              ljm

Oh Good God - I’m busted !
Caught in the very act of being caught
By those poets who catch people guilty
Of doing the same kind of wasteful
Thing as I am now being caught for
Brazenly and boldly doing. Sheesh!

But sometimes the ideas hide,
And they have to be pried out
one word at a time.

That’s my story,
And I’m stickin’ to it.
       ljm

now that the world
may have a chance
to breathe in deeply
and exhale four years
of  incompetent U.S. government
we hope our wonderful world
      in spite of its assorted dictators
may have a better chance
of starting to renew itself

it is about time!

In this world, made out of buildings in plastic and stone,
There's nothing to complain about
And even less to atone.