One Deed Sublime

When I go “Ha” and you go, “Hee”

In our love’s laughter, Sweet,

I know our dreams are set to be

One life that is complete.

One life, one dream, one deed sublime,

Beginning first with this:

Our lips that touch in lover’s rhyme

Of  yearning, burning kiss!

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On The House

To be a most handsome bee like me

Your stinging must be great.

When Clarinda Nancy Lee is free,

Sting, and do not hesitate.

And if she slaps you off her rear,

Be dauntless, and don’t shed a tear.

Just buzz around, get in her blouse—

She’ll pinch you, but it’s on the house!

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Clarinda Nancy Lee

Came up and said to me,

“My honey, will you be,

Be my honeybee?”

I stung her on the lips,

I stung her on the cheek.

I stung her on her be-hind—

She slapped me very quick!

And now I am be-roken,

But oh, well, what the hecks,

I thought when she had spoken

She really wanted sex!

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Oh, Clarinda Nancy Lee

Oh, Clarinda Nancy Lee

She means so much to me,

She’s sharp as sharp can be.

She has wisdom of a kind;

Oh look, there you’ll find

Such a lovesy dovesy mind!

Oh, and work she does so fast

You blink—and it’s past!

Every job goes in a blast!

And she’s very very sweet—

Washing, she’s complete:

Pulls the socks right off your feet!

Throws them in the sudsy tub—

Rub a dub, rub dub—

“Okay, that’s all for you, bub!”

She’s a laugher good and true—

Mr. Grinner, too!

I love her, and I pursue!

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Ayn Rand’s Birthday

Your birthday, o’er all life-loved days

That we do praise most high,

Though lesser than those greater days

When you stood straight man’s “I”,

With cheering thoughts we celebrate,

With calm, proud words we sing,

The starting you who could not wait

To grasp your first known thing.

That honesty which you began,

And never once let go,

That trademark of heroic man

Which all your writings show,

We honor now, we honor you,

Who self, nor man, let fall,

But, clearing ways to living true

Heroic men did call.

We heard, still hear, love’s selfish thee,

Thou earthly woman high;

Thine whole grand life, in memory,

From us shall mot pass by!

Your birthday, o’er all life-loved days,

Makes ageless youth our prize,

As fountainheads of Atlas praise

Seek anthems of your eyes!

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Dear, you are more to me than anything on earth;

Yes, dear, yea, the meaning and the light of all worth,

All happiness,

And even more than this,

More than words are,

For they’re too weak to know or understand

That I stand taller because of you,

I am stronger, too.


And my whole body sings,

Leaps and sings within my mind

Because this more of you I find,

My dear and sacred one, one, one, one, one.

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Glad The Verses

Glad the verses came to me,

My children, sweet and light!

Claimed my book of poetry,

Sang into it right.

One page more lay empty then,

When winged eyelashes flew,

And I gazed up to see again

My inspiration—-you.

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