I Like Poems, I Really Do

there are many ways to write a poem
one is to do it while you're sitting at home
surrounded by throws, sipping some mocha
trying to think of the next line's joke-a

or one can do it while one spends
an evening visiting and playing with friends
and visions of sentiment that keep ones blood warm
like the night one set fire to the rug in ones dorm

maybe you do it under a moonlit sky
the stars and the planets, and satellites go by
the expanse of the universe boggles your mind
like a vodka martini-- one of a kind!

some people sit by a fire on the beach
the roar of the tide just within reach
seagulls and bay gulls fly over head
and in a bikini that cute tranny, Fred

a fireman writes poetry waiting in stations
about flames and ladders and hot sensations
he writes about how his boots were on fire
but at a senior center for chest pain?--that makes him a liar!

my brother wrote poems while sitting in a tree
he had visions, you know, things that he'd see
he saw new inventions that people might need
he once wrote a book that taught you to read

my sister does poems but to write is a strain
so most of her poems just stay in her brain
she wants to share, but how do you suppose?
ask: she poetically blows her nose

Now I like to write while I'm lying in bed
a cat at my feet, a pillow for my head
toothpicks for my eyes to keep them wide open
I need just one more rhyme-- well, here's hopin'!