Pax Pax Pax

 

 

Pax! Pax! Pax!

Is all I hearing

From two people in my house

And war they declaring.

 

War pun a little insect

Flying bout de place

Knocking round your feet

And all in your face.

 

Having no regard

For its life or limb

But having a fun time,

Light bright or dim.

 

 

  

Full of blood

And they flying real low

And watch the unladen ones

Swiftly go.

 

Pax! Pax! Pax!

De zapper working good,

Got another fella

And he full of blood.

 

A declaration of war

On these terrible insects,

So extremely irritating

And getting we vex.

 

And they smelling bad,

I mean real bad,

This night is the worse night

We’ve ever had.

 

“Water somewhere”

I hear somebody say

But what do they expect?

So much rain bout hey.

 

How these tiny things

Could be such a mess!

Mosquitoes are definitely

An annoying pest.

 

Pax! Pax! Pax!

Hear the zapper go!

A couple mosquitoes gone

That’s how I know.

 

Stewart Russell © November 13, 2023

 

Another Nuisance

 

 

Are flies bothering you

Like they are tormenting me?

Send me a workable solution

And get one zapper free.

 

Oh gosh, another nuisance!

These things we call flies,

It appears that three turn up

For every one that dies.

 

Worse than mosquitoes

They fly by day and by night

And whenever fish turns up

It is their special delight.

 

Darting here and flying there

You see them everywhere,

It could be dirty or clean

They just do not care.

 

 

Overworking my zapper

That was for mosquitoes,

As soon as the zapper is in hand

They seem to know.

 

They appear a little quicker

Than the mosquito

And believe what I tell you,

They put on quite a show.

 

They go in the refrigerator

And in the deep freeze too,

They get under food towels

And make you blue.

 

The spray does not matter,

It is their deodorant,

They just hold up their wings

And enjoy the scent.

 

Meanwhile, at your wits end,

You wonder what to do,

Another swipe of the zapper

And they fly on through.

 

On the porcelain throne

With zapper in my hand,

Patiently waiting to show Mrs. Fly

Who was the man.

 

Looked like two in the room

But it was only one,

‘Blip’ when it hit the mirror

And bzzzzz, it was gone.

 

 

What you think I was doing?

No, not that time,

I was trying to zap that fly

That had me in a bind.

 

Flying behind the curtain

Slamming into the mirror,

Man, I tell you, this disgusting fly

Was giving me horrors.

 

Finally, there was a flash

Followed by a burnt-flesh smell,

Mrs. Fly was still alive

But she was not doing well.

 

I held down the switch

And the burnt smell increased,
I do not regret to announce

Mrs. Fly was now deceased.

 

 

Burnt to a crisp

Like barbecued mosquitoes,

The zapper struck again

And Mrs. Fly had to go.

 

Did God create flies?

I can’t say, without a doubt,

But this I know for certain,

They make me shout.

 

"These stupid flies!"

"Goodness gracious, another fly!"

"Where they coming from?"

And then I sigh.

 

Two things bother me:

Flies and this heat,

If you have a workable solution

Now is the time to speak.

 

Would you believe this?

I just zapped one,

It lit on my computer screen

And now it is gone.

 

It lit right on my poem

Having been sent to investigate,

Now I have to refer to that fly

As Mrs. Fly the late.

 

 

Here is photo of that fly

Lying on its back,

Seems like it is still alive

So now for a final zap!

 

Stewart Russell © August 30, 2023

 

Good-bye for Good

 

 

Good-bye for good

Could mean something bad,

It could be losing something

That you once had.

 

The second good

Is nothing like the first

It is more like a good thing

That had become a curse.

 

There is an irony too

That is built into good-bye:

The kind that brings

A relieving sigh.

 

 

A sort of wishing

It had happened long ago

But relieved nonetheless

It is now so.

 

For good means forever

Or never to return,

It is like the discomfort

That accompanies heartburn.

 

I wish it would stop

Right now, and for good,

I wish it would just go

I wish it would.

 

It could be a relationship

That has turned sour

And you wish good-bye for good

Could be that very hour.

 

 

Mosquitoes and the like

These enduring pests

Should be good-by for good

So that we can rest.

  

In that sense, I suppose

The for good would be good:

Forever no pests

Not just a lull.

 

For good is forever

As in the case of good-bye

Or it might be a benefit

On which one can rely.

 

They meant it for evil

But God meant it for good,

Follow God’s example:

We really should.

 

 

Good-bye for good

Is the last good-bye:

It could make you happy

Or it could make you cry.

 

In the case of a pest

You can see what I mean,

But in the case of a loved one:

That’s a different scene.

 

So, bear in mind

When you think of this theme

Good-bye for good

Could be nightmare or dream.

 

Stewart Russell © August 2020

 

Barbecued Mosquitoes

 

Barbecued mosquitoes

Cooked on a grill,

Smelling this aroma

Will never be a thrill.

 

I just stopped for a moment

To grill another one,

I am praying and hoping

They will soon be gone.

 

These pesky little nuisances

Have nothing to do

But incessantly buzz and bother

Both me and you.

I make grilling them

A satisfying pastime,

In that regard they and I

Are one of a kind.

 

They come at me

And their intent is not good,

I zapped them every time

To protect my blood.

 

Sometimes you can hear

But you cannot see them,

A swing of my zapper

Takes care of this problem.

Pax!  Pax! Pax!

And immediately you smell,

Three on the grill

And they are dead.

 

At night it’s a wonder

As like fireflies they light,

But unlike the fireflies

That was their last flight.

Sometimes you grill one

That is loaded with blood

And with a sense of satisfaction

You say, “That was good!”

 

Barbecued mosquitoes

But not to eat,

And given how they smell

They would not be sweet.

 

By the way the electric charge

Just left the barbecue grill,

Hence, for a couple hours or so

That ends my thrill.

 

 

Just two zappers around

But they do quite a lot,

We have to make them work

They are all we’ve got.

 

Care for some barbecued mosquitoes?

Place your order now,

We don’t want a rush

And we don’t want a row.

 

They are free of cost

And they are going fast,

Don’t misunderstand me

I mean, they are flying past.

The zapper is being charged

And so am I,

I am now defenseless

As the mosquitoes fly by.

 

Forget the ad

That I placed three verses ago,

The grill is no longer available

Hence, no barbecued mosquito.

 

Stewart Russell © October 9, 2020

 

Unregulated Blood Transfusions

 

 

Blood transfusions

Every day and night,

Tell me, my friend,

How can this be right?

No request is made

No form to sign,

They just take your blood

Any place any time.

I was here writing a poem

And I had to stop,

A mosquito on the floor

And much blood it got.

It was flying low

Like my wife would say,

Too heavy with blood

To quickly get away.

I grabbed a napkin

And she tried to fly,

But that collection of blood

Cause her to die.

I said 'her'

Because that is what I was told,

Apparently, it is the female

That is this bold.

I don’t feel them bite

But my wife always does

But day and night

I could hear them buzz.

I understand too,

That they know blood types,

Apparently, there are some people

That they never bite.

You might be a blood donor

To a mosquito,

It is taking your blood

And you do not know.

They don’t need permission,

They just don’t care,

They might be tiny

But they have no fear.

Once they were nocturnal

But now, also operate in the day,

With things getting scarce

They too must find a way.

These transfusions

That are from us to them,

Causing us health challenges

And medical problems.

Lots of these technicians

Buzzing ‘round day and night,

Tell me the truth,

Can this be right?

Anesthesia for some

No anesthesia others,

Especially for my wife,

This sure is a bother.

That napkin was so bloody

No wonder it couldn’t fly,

Blood saves lives

But some mosquitoes die.

I shall now return

To the poem I was typing

But, please, I beg,

No more mosquitoes biting.

Stewart Russell © November 2019