Tag Archives: Donald Trump

Naughty Boy: NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 15

Naughty Boy

Donald met a speed bump. They’ve hung him out to dry.
He can’t understand for he is an upstanding guy.
He’s everybody’s hero. His daughter tells him so.
He has a stunning hairdo. He has plenty of dough.
The charges that they’re making? It’s clear that they’re just jealous.
This is what a POTUS gets who’s handsome, smart and zealous.

He sneaks down the darkened hallway. He knows it’s somewhere here.
He finally finds the kitchen. He knew that he was near.
They’ve locked the fridge and cupboards to protect him from assassins,
but he knows where keys are hidden and how the fridge unfastens.
He creaks the door wide open and sees it on the shelf—
the gallon of fudge ripple just waiting for himself.

He grabs a spoon and shuts the door. He locks it and he’s off,
betrayed by not one footfall, one heavy breath or cough.
He almost makes it back to where he can gorge undetected.
When all at once a flashlight warns he’s soon to be inspected.
It’s not the secret service that has caught him being naughty.
It’s worse! It is Melania standing stern and haughty.

Sheepishly, he takes his ice cream cache back to the kitchen.
A rumbling tummy preferable to her eternal bitchin’.
Tomorrow he’ll slip off to his favorite namesake arches.
Mcmuffins always compensate for midnight thwarted marches.
Three with Sausage, one with bacon should be the proper ration
To fuel this self-proclaimed hero as he messes up the nation. 

Melania

The prompt: write a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation, and is revealed to be human (but still evil).

Donald’s World (POTUS-Speak)

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Donald’s World

It seems reality’s been hacked.
The dice are loaded. Cards are stacked.
Truth is no longer so exact.
Actuality’s been cracked
and reason pilloried and racked.

Verisimilitude is yacked
and common sense has long been sacked,
along with logic, reason, tact.
So what’s been rumored, gossiped, quacked
is now more true than proven fact!

 

The prompt word today is fact.

Trilling

Click on any photo to enlarge all.  jdbphotos

Trilling 

Don’t you hear the mockingbird
trilling out the whole absurd
story of the passing year,
giving voice to shock and fear?

Listen to the mourning dove,
warning us from far above,
the starlings, wrens and birds of prey.
Our debts all nature has to pay.

How can it be that those in power
sit and ponder and yet cower,
too intent on their own needs
to enact necessary deeds

to bring a tyrant fool to task—
to do what all the sane men ask?
Shame on these godly well-heeled men
who fold their hands and say amen,

but let sick children go untreated,
tenements to go unheated,
our waterways to be polluted,
laws and edicts instituted

that benefit the filthy rich
to raise themselves another niche

while milling masses unenlightened
vote heedless as their belts are tightened,

favoring the autocrats
in fear of what the democrats
“might” do, when all around them all
democracy proceeds to fall.

Hear  her there, up on the limb,
surveying all who follow him?
Simple nature mocking us?
Laughing at our furious fuss?

Perhaps more knowing than we know
when raging fires and piles of snow
assault us, it is nature’s way
to lead us and to have its say.

We cannot think of only our
needs and exercise our power
for special interests without paying.
This is what all of nature’s saying.

Mudslides, hurricanes and drought
may show us what it’s all about.
Balance, sanity and sharing
fairness, ecology and caring

will bring about a world that’s lasting
beyond our legislature’s casting.
God-fearing men, do you care
about how your children fare?

And as those whom we’ve elected,
oh so naïvely selected
pad their pockets and close their eyes,
our world around us swiftly dies.

Those are the truths clearly absurd
told to us by the mockingbird.
He sits above on swaying limb.
Why are the masses deaf to him?

The prompt today is trill.

Staying Afloat

Enlarge all photos by clicking on any photo.

Staying Afloat

The days my life is not erratic
are the days it is too static.
I need an leavening in life—
a lessening of loss and strife—
that doesn’t store me in the attic.

Retirement is not intended
to designate a life as ended.
I’d like some fun and some pizazz
aside from knitting and Shiraz.
I’d like my salad days extended.

Turn off the news. Turn up the notes.
I prefer hearing what emotes.
There is coverage enough
of Donald Trump and other stuff.
I’m tired of inane Twitter quotes!

Bring in the band and serve the drinks.
One’s only as old as she thinks.
I’ll move my body, move my mind.
(True, my brain  more than my behind.)
For what is static is what sinks.

The prompt today is static.

The Rack

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Tenterhook: a hook used to fasten cloth on a drying frame or tenter.

The Rack

The whole world stretched on tenterhooks, suspense our daily bread.
We hardly know how we should feel until the news is read.
No gentle folds around us to cushion out our dread.
What country now in warfare? What new group fallen dead?
The sadness of the whole taut world unravels in our head.
The fabric of society loosening thread by thread.
Billionaires grow fatter as children go unfed
when politics and Wall Street are so smugly wed.
Like bleating sheep we follow. We are so easily led.
What was meant to swathe us  hooks us on the rack instead.

The prompt today is tenterhooks.

How the Mighty Will One Day Fall

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I would pay a pretty tuppence
to see his highness get his comeuppance.
His smug assurance, his galling preening.
He’s like a babe in need of weaning,
sucking at the teat of fame.
What other mortal needs his name
written on towers around the world?
He’s Ozymandius, stone lip curled
in cruel splendor, sure in his power
reasserted on every tower.
But remember, as he counts each coup,
how all the mighty have fallen, too.
False knights wear armor prone to tarnish.
His Midas touch will lose its varnish.
We’ll laud the day when he’ll be dumped—
That day when he’ll be over-trumped!

 

The prompt today was mighty.

Donald, Donald

Donald, Donald

You’ve shown us through your policies as well as how you feed
that the only real emotion you experience is greed.
Everything you come upon you brand with the name “Trump,”
Yet lack of compassion still labels you a chump.
In all your machinations, you attempt to spin the pulley.
Like other gleeful little boys, you have to play the bully.
What you have written on the world is not, Sir, what will last.
The image history makes of you you have no power to cast
unless it’s by your actions, and it’s clear what they have been.
How many evil actions have you endorsed with your pen?
Those fed their pablum with golden spoons may not develop empathy,
but that’s no reason why they couldn’t exercise some sympathy.

Things Donald Trump has named after himself: (Thanks, Wiki.)

Cancelled/never completed

Trump International Hotels

Trump sign on his Chicago Hotel and Tower

Completed/in use

Planned but never built

Former properties

Trump Plaza

In use

Trump Entertainment Resorts

Other buildings

Trump International Hotel – Las Vegas, Nevada

In use

Abandoned/never completed

Golf courses

U.S.

The 18th hole at Trump National Doral

International

  • Trump International Golf Club (Dubai)
  • Trump World Golf Club (Dubai)
  • Trump International Golf Links, Scotland
  • Trump International Golf Links and Hotel Ireland
  • Trump Turnberry (Scotland)

Former

  • Trump International Golf Club Puerto Rico[7]

Food and drink

Former

The prompt word today is sympathy. (Donald Trump during Launch of Trump Steaks at The Sharper Image at The Sharper Image in New York City, New York, United States. (Photo by Stephen Lovekin/WireImage for Hill & Knowlton)