For Naomi Kutin

Naomi Kutin, you're my hero now.
Just ten years old, and check out what she did!
I will not stoop to ask you why and how
This feat became your goal; I simply bid
Myself and all who read here to recall
That strength's its own reward. This lady here
Doth know it well. Whatever may befall
Her in the future, all will surely cheer
Who hear her name. To lift twice her own weight
At any age is marvelous; to squat
With same is just phenomenal. I, Kate
Your sonneteer, will now set out to plot
Achievements, too, inspired and quite in awe
Of our Naomi. Oops, you've dropped your jaw!

Bernard the Helper Mule: A Mock Epic for @popqueenie and @lucysfootball

When Buddy, Legolas and Keebler all
Attended the same party, long ago,
Alas, the three of them perchanced to fall
Into great folly, and, well, as you know
From looking at their tee-shirts... let's just call
Them most unfortunate. But how they show
Resilience is most inspiring! They
Don't let their illness stop them on their way.

Now, Legolas and Keebler simply got
Expected gifts from all their elven kin.
But Buddy? Such was not to be his lot
He took so many helpers for a spin
But Santa wouldn't spend the green (that's not
To call him cheap or anything, 'cause, well
We do hope he'll be gen'rous someday. Hell!)

So Buddy, helpless, lonely and bereft
Sat by the subway, begging for spare change
And scrabbling blindly for the crumbs we left
Of sandwiches, when one day, something strange
Occurred. Disgruntled, angry and deranged
One Kinky Kelly, formerly a deft
And lithe performer, just released from jail
Learned that his mule now saw him and thought "fail!"

"He doesn't love me anymore!" he cried.
"I thought tattoos were sexy, but, no good."
In tears he sank down to our Buddy's side.
And Buddy got to thinking. "Kelly, would
Your mule consider going for a ride?"
Quoth Kelly "He's a hussy, sure, but could
You give me just a moment?" "Sure." "All right.
Let's give it one more try, Bernard, tonight?"

Bernard, though, wasn't having it, and kicked
His ex right in the groin. "Um, he's all yours,"
Quoth Kelly. "Aw, I hope this don't afflict
You too bad," Buddy said, then, on all fours
He struggled toward the mule that he had picked
To be his helper, and, just as the doors
Closed on poor Kelly, grabbed it by the fur
And pulled himself upright. "No, as you were."

The streets of old Manhattan never saw
A sight like Buddy and his Bernard, as
They learned to help each other. "Oh, look, aw!
That's wrong, that is" was typical. "He has
His hand up in that donkey's--" "Shut yer jaw!"
But Buddy, he was used to all that jazz.
"Don't listen, Bernard," he would say, and for
The mule's part, there was really nothing more.

They learned to help each other, and now they
Are quite insep'rable, and other elves
Who partied with him on that fateful day
Just wish they had a helper mule themselves.
Especially Legolas, who, people say
Keeps hidden deep amongst his many shelves
Of poetry and lit, some rank mule porn.
Alas for him and his pale unicorn...

Poet's noet: The original inspiration for this can be found at LucysFootball HERE and further elucidated at Snobbery blog's feast of "Low-Ku" HERE.

In Which @Daecabhir And @PandasHeart Have Happy News

Who says that Ren faires bring us nothing good?
'Twas thereat, I believe, that Gregory
(Called Daecabhir amoung the wondrous 'hood
We call the internets) did chance to see
And flirt with a belle femme there, whom we know
As Panda's Heart. True love at soonest glance,
I think, for Greg and Anna, 'neath the glow
Of torchlight. Lo, how sweetly time and chance
Brought dorks to love - and now today we learn
That it's for keeps, for quite out of the blue
Hath Greg announced that she's his wife. I yearn
To hug them both, but this will have to do.
Huzzah, forsooth; here's wishing many years
Of happiness, and lovely ales and beers.

In Which Occurs A Very Muppet Scotchpocalypse

"Macallan's, anyone?" Miss Piggy said,
And batted those eyelashes. "Damn, you know,
That frog picked him a woman!" Oscar's head
Was already a-spin. It's ever so,
However, that a muppet, offered scotch
Must drink it, ev'ry time it's offered. Soon
The bottle drained, this pair was much debauched,
And Oscar took advantage of her swoon.
Then Scooter showed up with Glenlivet and
A camera phone. "Deplorable" does not
Describe the scenes he captured in that can,
Depravity and garbage, whiskey shots
From porcine nostrils, stuffing -- and then they
Began to sing, to sin against Broadway.

- for Paul Elard Cooley

In Which I Come Out As ATebowist

O Tebow, you're annoying, but you won,
And now my family is more than glad.
My first game of the season turned out fun
(In my book, sudden death is never bad).
Now onward through the playoffs shall ye go,
And with you go we all, our fears and hopes
Well activated - but I still say no,
That kneeling thing does not impress me. Dopes
Might tell me that I must believe, but I
Don't think, if there's a god, it interferes
In bread and circus football games. Let fly
What insult-prayers ye might; just keep the gears
A-turning, and we'll all be happy, 'kay?
Go Broncos, show the Pats just how to play.

SHOUTY MEN IN SHINY ARMOUR: In Which Dissent Is Handled

"Off with his head," the angry queen did shout.
"Which one?" inquired her faithful headsman, "He
Has several." "The one that's speaking out
Against my reign!" "That narrows it to three."
"Off with his head," the queen said, pointing at
Her headsman. "I will give a shiny sword
With rubies in its hilt to whom'er that
Back-talking knave do slay." No one stepped for'ard --
That is until a wizard slinked into
The crowd. "Ah! Here he is, thank you, fair dame
For finding him," quoth he. "This is for you."
He tossed the queen a purse, then burst in flame
And he and his eight-headed slave were gone.
"Whate'er it takes to keep the peace. Move on."

Suppertime Sonnet Stories: In Which An Author Is Screwed From The Get-Go

"Well, Boyd, I think it's time we had a talk:
The public wants the story of your life --
These things still make bank! -- and  if you should balk
At all the work, well, I think that my wife
Would be a fine ghost-writer." "Well, I think
That sounds just fine," Boyd told his agent. "Wait!"
His mom said, on the conference call, "Don't drink
A toast on that just yet. I may be late
In telling you, but your dad's gambling caused
Some problems, so we kind of sold the rights
To your biography. And it was claused
In perpetuity." "When?" "You were mites."
"Who has the copyright now?" "It's been sold
So many times I'm clueless. And I'm old."

Suppertime Sonnet Stories: In Which @BlazingBetta Needs To Return To CrossFit

The blaze of Betta set the car on fire
Just as she walked past it, among all those
Parked wildly there. Now now, I am no liar:
When she fails to go lifting, e'en her nose
Gives off such energy as would explode
A lesser being. As a consequence
The car combusted (no, this did not bode
Too well for next year!) and, scarce minutes hence,
So did the parking lot entire when she
Returned from buying new weightlifting gear
(Those gloves are vital!). Now it's up to we
Who love her, and the earth, to gamely cheer
As Sarah heads on back to hit the gym!
If we don't, then our prospects grow quite dim.

Suppertime Sonnet Stories: Trans-Dimensional Safety Lessons ForChristmas

A universe next door: The traffic stop
Was not performed, and blithely he drove on
At terribly high speed that did not drop
In time to miss an oncoming Scion.
Thank goodness in this one the lights did flash,
The siren sound, and though the ticket was
Expensive, Simon, chastened, ceased to dash
As though he were a supersonic Claus
And ev'rybody lived to celebrate
The holiday. A turkey, slightly cooled
Is still delicious; love is never late
But just anticipated. So hath ruled
The judge over dimensions. And the Man
In Blue enjoyed his gath'ring too, by plan!

In Which A Dragon Saves A Maiden

My elbows both engaged in mutiny,
From overuse of these computers, I
Must now resort to something new to me:
Some software that makes what I say to my
Machine, here, into typing. As I've said,
As many others have repeated, this,
Life in the future, rocks. From out my head
And through my voice, onto the page! I miss,
Sometimes, the errors that do creep into
The text this way, but editing is smart.
It's passing strange though, that I say "undo"
Instead of hitting backspace. How my heart
Is gladdened: now no longer is there pain
In pouring out what's in my heart and brain.

ElbOW

This year was through with me ere I was done.
Now I just hide and cover me to rest.
The race is over. I don't know who won,
But please believe, I wish her all the best.
My wounds have tapped me out of ev'ry fight,
My goals lie all in tatters at my feet
And nothing that I've started has gone right
But I don't care right now. I'm tired, I'm beat,
And quite forgotten. Oh, of course, I know
The wheel will turn around for me again.
But just now, I would just as soon it go
A spin or two without me. I have been
A few too many times 'round with no breaks;
I'm only human, don't have what it takes.

Sonnet Dare: In Which Glompings Are Passionate And Hath Consequences

He drew her to him tightly, in a crush
And Lady Michchievous was most aware
Of how he felt about her. With a blush
She pulled away, but could not meet his stare.
Such glomping as he'd given her had caused
Such stirrings in her as she'd ne'er admit
To ever having had. "Sirrah!" -- she paused
Then, ere berating him, for truly it
Had not been so unpleasant, and her eyes
Cast downwards, modestly, saw what she'd felt
Saluting her -- "You think me some cheap prize?"
She stammered, but kept looking at his belt.
"Oh glomp me once again, you monster! Yes
Like that. No, to the left a bit, I guess."

In Which I Sign Some Books

This bowling alley was the first locale
For my al fresco sonnetizing, so
I do decree this night that said place shall
Be most appropriate to thus bestow
My autograph the first time on my book!
My worst friend, Kevin, ordered copies, and
So eager was he to have him a look,
Demanded one-day shipping. Ain't that grand?
So there I sat and signed them. Oh, the thrill
Is quite unparalleled! It's feeling real:
My heart is pounding loudly even still
(Though that might be from beer without a meal)!
My joy at all of this is quite profound
And sharing it with you ? Kazoos resound!

In Which A Paperback Is Now Available

Rejoice ye sonnet fans known to prefer
Thy doggerel when printed on dead tree!
This day, t'would seem, is when Kate says that her
Collection as a paperback may be
Obtained from Amazon! Go take a look!
Thy sonneteer will wait. Her gratitude
Is vast, to all who helped her with this book,
In choosing entries, in taking her crude,
Unformed ideas on layout and design
And making of them such a lovely thing
As makes her wonder if a tome so fine
Could ever bear her name! Lo it doth wring
Fat tears of joy from her bewildered eyes
To share this news with you - that's no surprise.

In Which I Try To Stay Positive In the Face Of Unfairness

Life's short, so grab your nearest love, for me
And hold him tightly for a moment; say
All that you should (same goes if it's a she)
Ere darkness falls and closes out this day.
Not ev'ryone today is going to lose
That last chance, but we never know until
It's far too late. Therefore it's best to choose
To lead on with your heart, suppress the will
To self-defense. Far better risk the hurt
Of some misunderstanding or rebuff
Of your short, deeply honest, silly blurt,
Than to regret you never said enough.
Too short a time amongst us, Kenny; I
Was really not prepared to say good-bye.