Hobbit Journey's Attic

When Phil Was Not Still

There once was an odd little man who had a dime.

His name was Phil, and he had little else but time.

Yet he was not proud, and opined that he still had a coin.

If you’ve only one, he heard, you should find a shelter to join.

I was never promised, said he, that there would be more.

Though had there been, it wouldn’t have been a bore.

Never one to pity his lack of means,

Phil was grateful that he still had a pair of jeans.

Sometimes though, he dreamt of a better life,

and remembered his former wife.

But when he woke, the life and wife were history.

How it had all slipped away remained a mystery.

Then one day a righteous baker descended from the skies,

and to the humble gave apple pies.

Phil was thrilled to have jeans, a dime and a pie to eat.

He knew it would surely be hard to beat.

The Pleasure Police soon caught up with Phil,

who after eating a whole pie was becoming ill.

They took his jeans and told him to have a seat.

Phil stared self-consciously at his feet.

You’ve no right they said, to be content.

What’s your real intent?

You might as well admit, your glass is always half full.

We’ll accept from you no bull.

Phil knew he should be still, but made the call.

I’d just be happy, said he, to have a glass at all.

Well then, said they, your lack of greed is criminal,

But our punishment will be minimal,

You will’ forfeit your jeans and your time,

and your fine shall be a dime.

Twitter’s Agincourt (or, When @Oprah Attacks)

We few, we happy few, we band of twitterers;

For they today that share their tweets with me,

Shall be my brother; be they ne’er so vile,

And those in Facebook now-a-bed,

Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,

And hold their site latency cheap whiles any speaks,

That fought with us upon Oprah’s Fail Whale day.

(with apologies to Shakespeare, Henry V, Saint Crispin, and literature in general)