Lew Gordon

Lew Gordon: Private Eye
(In the style of a film noir limerick)

He hides behind the tree in the park,
lurks in the shadows and the dark,
following at night,
he stays out of sight,
and he never even leaves a mark.

He’s become the master of disguise,
the privatest of private eyes.
Quick-change like chameleon,
speaks Italian and Korean.
The silent, slickest spy of spies.

Sewing trenchcoats to fit in,
of wallpaper, wood or tin,
hides in the fog,
or dressed as a dog
he has even painted his skin.

So when you feel someone’s  in your midst
know that Lew Gordon exists.
It’s not a mirage,
he’s in camouflage,
And now you’re on his watch list.

Detective Burkes

Detective Burkes

Lament the story of Detective Burkes.

Long hours in the field and behind the desk.

Prickly puzzles loom, unsolved cases grow,

yet on, he moves to close them one by one.

Burkes solved the case of the burned post office.

He spent days getting out of the blackmail.

The man who was shot with no entry wounds,

was finally solved as an inside job.

A donut or three and cups of coffee

help him persist when others are asleep.

“Save us!” they all yell, when troubles arise.

Then Pig, Scum and Bacon, spitefully spewed.

The poor, the beaten yet so gallant knight,

a brave, lone sailor in a sea of corrupt.

The rumpled detective, a dying breed,

humble silent solver, Detective Burkes.

For Illustration Friday’s “Puzzle”