Mr. Romantic?

About a month back I received word that some of my poems will be finding their way to publication:  this time a small magazine and a university journal.  The latter is a poem I wrote nearly four years ago as Becky and I were returning from our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in San Juan.  As memory serves (and it doesn't serve too well these days) I wrote the unrhymed English/Spanish sonnet on the flight home.  I had also carried a stash of poems with me on the cruise--and proffered one-per-night after each port-of-call, including the last night in San Juan.

Becky seems to like my romance poetry.  It's one of the few things she can tolerate about me.  And when a three-year-old poem gets the nod from an editor--an English department chair with a Ph.D--I'll assume the poem has enough panache and spirit to carry a page.

Not all of my romance poetry is created equal, however.  Here's a light one that I will never show to Becky . . . I lifted it out of my journal (just for fun).

Menopause

The laws
Of menopause
Are flaws
Of cause-
And-effect because
Even her paws
Have claws.
A man needs gauze
And iron jaws
At every pause
To endure the applause
Of menopause.