Poetry by Michael Sterwart

— F —

F has few friends, occurring as it does,
In fornicate and California.
It has been much feared, no fault of its own,
By those who take a fright at a fact
Or even of Florida. I, at least,
Will think of you kindly, my friend. I’ll say
That F is a flag perpetually fanned
By warm western winds. Only tell me, where?
Over what country do you fly, mon frere?

— G —

Just when you think you’ve gotten decently started,
Here comes gamma again, this time in the guise
Of a crooked camel, sticking out its tongue,
Saying, God, I got through that doorway anyway,
Didn’t I, but I don’t remember how
And now I scarcely recognize myself.
Well ride on, thou good and faithful camel,
And praise be to G—for leading thee
In paths of righteousness.

H — I — J — K

h is mostly hot air
and I is just a jot, bare
in the tail. K is merely c
diminished by s (q.v.)