Slowly, silently, the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep; A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws, and silver eye; And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream.
There once was a peevish standup comic. Whose war on hecklers would quickly go atomic. A heckler said, "You suck!" So, he hit 'em with a truck. A response neither timely nor economic.
The maples have grown old; Orchards have begun to wither. The reds and greens have faded. Climbing the heights, I Feel the chill of late Autumn. A ceaseless pounding sound Drowns out the setting sun. Remembered sorrows flock To mind, making new sorrows. We are separated By a thousand miles; From our two distant places We can't even meet in dreams. The rain stops, and the sky clears; One can see the twelve green peaks. Speechless, who could understand My angst, as I stand cliffside. I can write of my grief, but Will the clouds bring a reply?
There once was a team of architects Who double and triple checked the specs. But they faced a plight 'Cause left didn't check right -- So, the building's hunchback was hard to detect.
At noisy readings an angry old poet Would pick up one of his books and bestow it. When they would snicker He'd wish his book thicker, For it would flutter in air when he'd throw it.
