Verses from stories by Jennifer Medina, Maggie Haberman, Lateshia Beachum, and Heather Long.

Jennifer Medina. NYT.

TRUMP BOASTS 'GOD IS ON OUR SIDE.'

@jennymedina  @maggieNYT

When the Lord heard Donald Trump

talking like a pious chump,

on the Hotline He did tell

Mr. Scratch way down in Hell

to prepare a special seat

for someone to feel the heat.

Then an angel he did send

down to Earth to make an end

of the President's career --

now the chump craves but cold beer.

*************************

SMOKERS GET THE HEAVE-HO

IN THE WORKPLACE

@lateshiabeachum

If you like to take a puff

you will find it very tough

to find work most anyplace;

nicotine's a big disgrace.

Switch to pot; it's legal now --

and no one cares much anyhow.

*******************************

AMERICAN RAILROADS CONTINUE

MASSIVE LAYOFFS

@byHeatherLong

Casey Jones would sure be floored

if he tried to get aboard

any train that's run today --

he would weep and shout 'Oy vey!'

Automation intervenes,

and the doughty men in jeans

that in olden days did toil

coupling cars and squirting oil

now are but a memory --

with roundhouse run by absentee.

Even hobos shun the rails;

they'd rather hitchhike on some snails.

And they did fellowship one with another

And they did fellowship one with another, and did rejoice one with another, and did have great joy.
Helaman 6:3

We are fellow citizens when worshiping the Lord.

On the good ship Zion we are snugly brought aboard.

Smiling and rejoicing at the blessings we enjoy,

we have no time for critics -- we just yell at them 'ahoy!'

Our voyage to the Promised Land, the company we keep,

are treasures of the harvest we most naturally reap!

So sour looks and feelings are tossed overboard today.

We sail with naught but comrades and well-wishers all the way!

Verses from Stories by Justin Jouvenal, Robin Givhan, and Sarah Mervosh.

THIS KENTUCKY GOVERNOR PARDONED 

HUNDREDS OF FELONS HIS LAST

WEEK IN OFFICE.

@jjouvenal

Matt Bevin was the Governor

of hilly Kentucky.

He suffered for the felon

locked in penitentiary.

So he released a hundred,

then a hundred more, or so,

until the hills and valleys

with tough criminals did flow.

They robbed the banks and stole the cars

of honest folk, and then

when cops began to track them down

they shouted out "Amen!"

These crooks all got religion

and were baptized in a lake

(and so the cops relented,

even though twas all a fake.)

So if you're in the pokey

and you yearn for some fresh air,

just look up Mathew Bevin

and say that you rely on prayer.

*****************************

WHAT CAN YOU WEAR THAT DOESN'T

IMPACT THE PLANET?

@RobinGivhan

Robin Givhan. WaPo.

I guess I'll wear some fig leaves

so the planet is preserved.

Although I'd need a lot of 'em,

the way that I am curved.

Plastic will not decompose

and linen needs child labor;

wool is way too scratchy

and hemp feels like a saber.

I could wear my birthday suit,

but somehow I do think

the cops would soon surround me

and then toss me in the clink!

********************************

WILD TURKEYS GIVE HUNTERS

THE BIRD

@smervosh

When hunting the wild turkey

one should always keep in mind

that when it comes to martyrdom

they're strongly disinclined.

Chances are when stalking one

you'll come home empty-handed;

and then a poor provider

you will certainly be branded.

So when you're hunting turkey

get a Butterball, Nimrod --

then spin a tail as tall as those

by sly Scheherazade.

Verses from stories by Mitch Smith, Derek J. Hawkins, and Laura Daily.

Mitch Smith. NYT.

ANONYMOUS DRONES INVADE

NEBRASKA/COLORADO.

@MitchKSmith

The drones are coming, coming, coming.

Their blades are humming, humming, humming.

In dark of night, where owls and bats

used to rule the farming flats,

the drones are flying, flying, flying.

Are they spying, spying spying?

Shoot 'em down, is what I say  --

before they steal a charolais!

**************************

ARCHAEOLOGISTS DISCOVER EVIDENCE

OF AMAZON WARRIOR WOMEN.

@D_Hawk

The female of the species,

as old Kipling always said,

protecting its own offspring

would as lief lay you out dead.

Ancient women warriors

are no surprise to me --

the darts my ex throws with her tongue

can sting just like a bee!

***********************

IS THE WORLD READY FOR AN

ADJUSTABLE PILLOW?

@lfdaily

I like my pillows lumpy

and I like my pillows flat;

I go to bed with my socks on

and sometimes wear a hat.

I will not be too pampered

when I lay me down to sleep;

give me some insomnia,

uncomfortable and cheap.

Otherwise I'd stay in bed

and never rise and shine;

I'd lose my job and starve to death --

all for a comfy spine!

Covenanting with the Lord

For the Lord covenanteth with none save it be with them that repent and believe in his Son, who is the Holy One of Israel.
2 Nephi 30:2

When covenanting with the Lord

do not expect a large reward;

the thief and fool will still abound

and harry you right to the ground.

But when your faith in Christ is right

you'll win your way without a fight.

For whosoever will repent

is shielded by God's covenant.

Let us be faithful

. . .  let us be faithful in keeping the commandments of the Lord; for behold he is mightier than all the earth . . .
1 Nephi 4:1

Let us be faithful and we will succeed

in doing the Lord's work at diligent speed.

For God has all power; this earth's brief travail

is nothing compared to his virtue and scale.

Devils may gibber and fools stumble on;

obedient saints see a glorious dawn.

The stalwart are granted dominion unspliced,

and never stop loving the Kingdom of Christ!

Photo Essay: Snow.

Snow is the forgiving mother

I never had.

The Life of Gemstone Charlie

There once was a young man who came home early to find that his wife and children had been eaten by tigers, and his fine mansion was riddled with termites.
He immediately packed a valise with clean towels and an assortment of belt buckles, then walked away from his arid and shallow existence into the faraway Feeble Mountains.
Once there he settled into a hut made of plantain stalks to begin pondering things. When things began pondering back, he knew he had arrived at Hermithood; he was now ready to go find something to eat. He discovered the nutritious bark of dogwood trees and the soggy elegy of dew on grass. Clusterberries stained his teeth a light purple and the nutbeans that grew in such abundance gave him so much gravitas he had to light a candle.
But such was his faith in playing by Hoyle that he was led to a burning bush that produced grilled hamburgers with raw onions and a fountain of flavored soda water burst forth from a nearby rock. Twinkies floated down from the sky in nets of gossamer. 
Soon after, a stranger hiking past his plantain hut stopped to ask for a drink of water, and was given instead a lecture on the futility of desire. 
As the stranger departed, still thirsty but now full of insight, he blessed the hermit with words of praise that had to do with digestive functions and unusual physical activities. 
Then war swept through the plains below the Feeble Mountains, and many refugees climbed the arduous trail that led past the hermit's shack of plantain stalks. 
Being grieved for their hunger and despair, the hermit gave each one he encountered a shiny, worthless, pebble from the stream bed where he infrequently bathed. He conveniently forgot to point out the burning bush of hamburgers or the spring of cold soda water to them -- but then, hermits have a lot on their minds and can't think of everything, can they?
And thus the hermit acquired a new name.
Gemstone Charlie.
Word of his activities reached the great citadel of Nible, where cruel Herman Cradlecrusher reigned. Idly kicking a few random skulls out of his way, Cradelcrusher cynically decided to go confront Gemstone Charlie, to drain him of hope and light, to give the lie to his anemic philosophy. Mounting his mincemeat charger, he rode into the Feeble Mountains and found the humble hermit planting ham hocks.
"Ho! Are you the one they call Gemstone Charlie" asked Cradlecrusher with a violent sneer.
"That's what they tell me" replied the hermit cheerfully.
"Then answer me this, birdsong" replied the brute from his horse craftily. "Why do clouds float while mankind must walk?"
Cradlecrusher sat back on his mincemeat charger, smugly waiting for Gemstone Charlie to melt into a puddle of stale meringue. No philosopher he had ever captured and tortured before had been able to answer that maddening question.
"Your question intrigues me, man on the messy horse" said the hermit placidly. "Let me give it some thought . . . "
Gemstone Charlie sat down on a log to ponder. He pondered a long time. Meanwhile Cradlecrusher decided to go pillage the war-torn plains below the Feeble Mountains; he was gone for two years. When he returned, laden with rich plunderage, he found Gemstone Charlie still sitting on the same log, with a long beard. (You don't see many bearded logs in those parts.)
"In answer to your question" said the hermit, as if the conversation had never been interrupted, "I'd have to say that while a cloud may float, it cannot think -- but a man may think he can float and so find happiness in a brisk walk."
Cradlecrusher fell off of his horse in surprise. His booty came crashing on top of him, snuffing out his disgusting life in the blink of an eye.
And so Gemstone Charlie was now also the Liberator of Nible. The grateful citizens offered him the crown, but he scorned such baubles and trumpery for the swindles they are. Instead he taught the people correct principles, and they soon got bored and dispersed into feuding tribes that are still at each other's throats today.
 The passing years tread lightly on the brow of Gemstone Charlie. He did not seem to age so much as ripen, like a Wisconsin cheddar. His fair hair turned wispy and coy; his chin acquired a doppelganger; and his knobby knees clicked like they were playing a continuous game of Yahtze. He wore a simple robe of supple milkweed strands. And his wisdom flowed like apple butter.
A married woman came to him, asking for help in conceiving a child. She and her husband had tried for six years to bring a child into the world, without any success. He gave her a shiny pebble and told her to return home without stopping to eat wild garlic. In nine months time she gave birth to a healthy set of twin boys. 
An old miser asked him to find a way to turn base metal into gold. Gemstone Charlie gave him a hand mirror and said "When your reflection becomes more precious to you than gold, you will be the richest man on earth."
The old miser went away rejoicing, because he'd gotten a good hand mirror for nothing. He later sold it for a gold coin that he kept hidden in his donkey's ear.
But even a great sage must eventually heed the call of distant horns. The day came when a tumbleweed with clawed feet and red glowing eyes showed up at the door of Gemstone Charlie's plantain hut.
"The time has come" it said to the hermit in a low growl.
"Has it, now?" replied Gemstone Charlie.
"And before I take you away, I have something to tell you -- bard of the noble platitudes!" the thing intoned. "All those long years ago when you came home early to be told your wife and children were eaten by tigers -- you came to the wrong house! Those were your brother's wife and children that were eaten by tigers, not yours! Your family lived next door, and waited for your return for thirty years --ha ha ha!"
"That I knew" said Gemstone Charlie to the thunderstruck imp. "I just needed a breather from all the megillah. Are they still waiting for me, then?"
"Um . . . yeah, I guess so" said the crestfallen creature, it's glowing red eyes dimming to pink.
"Then I'll be off, if it's all the same to you. Thanks for dropping by. Help yourself to a shiny pebble -- take a handful, if you want!" So saying, Gemstone Charlie walked down the mountain path, took a fast oxen cart back to his home, and the latter end of Gemstone Charlie was more blessed than his beginning -- for each of his children gave him a piece of money, and his loving wife gave him a piece of her mind. 

Photo Essay: Trees on a Winter Morning. Provo.