Thanks to all my many a friend.
My heart and mind’s on the mend.
The road behind bumpy and long,
twists and turns, some wrong.
~
Paths ahead are better viewed;
time’s taught life’s skewed.
All that’s known is there’s usually doubt.
But the ups and downs average out.
~
Like suns and moons we all rise and set.
And with changing seasons we freeze or sweat.
Grounding’s found in what’s always there,
the love of friends with time we share.
~*~
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Baby’s first spring blooms with joy.
There’s grass for sitting and nature’s their toy.
There are leaves to touch and bugs to see,
flowers to smell and the buzz of a bee.
~
The sun is warm and the sky is blue.
A breeze tickles toes where once a shoe.
Daring they get and start to crawl.
They chase the cat chasing the ball.
~
Mom gets it first and giggles they share.
She tosses the ball high in the air.
Little eyes get rubbed, its naptime soon.
Then there’s lunch on a spring afternoon.
~*~
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***
If a painter I to be,
filling life with discovery,
penning sonnets with oceans green,
there to paint an endless sea.
Or if an explorer I am to be,
quills soaring high and free,
dancing in fields of clover green,
there to ponder what yet to foresee.
Perhaps a poet I to be,
painting rainbows in hues of glee,
paper mountains yet printing green,
there stars aglow gaze back at me.
But a simple man confused I be,
feeling love am I as you can see,
gazing endlessly into eyes of green,
there my heart knows for her I be.
~*~
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I’m going to write a poem so everyone feels good.
I’ll make it bright and cheery as I know I should.
Peculiar times upon us, isolation’s now the norm.
But spring is out in force; soon we’ll all feel warm.
~
Trees are soon to blossom, grass is soon to green.
Flowers will share their colors, bees will tend their queen.
Nature shares her secrets, life does rise again.
Birds are already singing, though we’ve a bigger brain.
~
The future has no guide; we live from day to day.
Optimism is our key to find a better way.
Life will throw some curves and everyone has a pitch.
Some may catch a virus, some will find their niche.
~
Love is in our heart, compassion’s in our soul.
Thoughts fill our heads, they make us feel whole.
The earth will stay in motion; the sun will rise and fall.
Time’s now to show our mettle and share with one and all.
~*~
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Dreams of woke and emperor nude.
Word salad spewed to be misconstrued.
The bolster and bluster, loud and crude.
Humping and pumping mega attitude.
~
Outfoxed cons conned into servitude.
Bonded by hatred, yesterdays glued.
Tomorrow awaits their imaginary feud.
Until nuts bolt and the free unscrewed.
~*~
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Valentine’s Day comes once a year.
It’s the only day of poet fear.
Words flow freely, most every day.
But once a year, I’ve nothing to say.
~
I share my love with dreams and wishes.
And little things, sometimes dishes.
I hold you close and we stick like glue.
Because every day I love you.
~*~
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Observing a foible in real time,
much longer than a typical rhyme.
The clock’s ticking and time will tell,
will I finish, or, again say Oh well.
~
Time goes through cycles; we all have our own.
We cycle through life; each turn we’ve grown.
Turns’ incomplete, bumps we will feel.
Will I roll to the end or find a new wheel?
~*~
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Ice moon full, clouds float by.
Snow aglow, one with our sky.
Numberless air, frozen in wait.
Thaws to feel by degree or date.
~*~
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Existing in a parallel reality,
stepping in and out unconsciously.
It’s always good when there’s a word,
a word that’s not too, too absurd.
~
Something descriptive for something unknown.
Letters arranged so there are none left alone.
Horizons abound, three-sixty and more.
Infinite options with only one door.
~
In and out realities converge,
yet this moment’s word yet to emerge.
Thoughts divided twixt hither and yon,
Yin and Yang got up and gone.
~
The quest getting long, parallels evade,
as does reality, mind’s left unmade.
My word yet forthcoming, my tongue tip awaits.
Desire’s strong, my hook salivates.
~*~
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If perfection could be found,
is it in or above the ground.
Or in the air or in the sea,
it could be you, not likely me.
~
Does it make a sound, or does it smell?
If found, might I say, “Oh well.”
Is it the same for one and all,
is it big or is it small?
~
Question’s many, quests never end.
Clues abound but truth can bend.
Eyes perceive a painter’s stroke,
meaning safe in a canvas cloak.
~
Circles run in boxes made,
glasses worn throwing shade.
Seekers sought surely stun.
Perfection is: never done.
~*~
SCK012526
If no two snowflakes are the same,
When melted do they come back again?
How do all the storm clouds know,
What each other makes for snow?
**
Though thought all different, ingredients same
Freely floating flakes, cousins of rain
Minuscule crystals suspended in lines
Destiny’s same – the kiss of sunshine
*
Just another of natures’ follies, like we all
The higher the cloud, the faster the fall
The longer the blizzard, the deeper the strife
The hotter the day, the shorter the life
.
Do we really care if snowflakes are the same?
Or are we just repeating an old silly game?
A game that can never ever be won –
When all the pieces melt in the sun
~*~
Sck121314
The mistletoe’s gone for another year.
Alarm bells ringing bring no cheer.
The party’s over, Monday’s arrived,
the holiday’s done, at least I survived.
~
Back to normal I must now go.
Work I must to pay what I owe.
Bills are coming and debts surely grew.
Saving’s diminished; it’s time to make new.
~
Coffee is drunk but the mood is sober.
I’ve interest to pay, maybe done by October.
A resolution I’ve made to end this spree.
But Valentines is coming and gifts there will be.
~
So returns I’ll exchange as sales are waiting,
There are deals galore, no time for debating.
There’s much to do to start this New Year.
Hopefully by spring my plan will be clear.
~*~
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Walked the streets in mismatched shoes.
Every time I win, twice I lose.
Suffered a poke and many a bruise.
Newspapers for blankets, I live the news.
~
Time’s lived, no need for clues.
Eyes now open the world’s my muse.
This guitar and me, we got no blues.
No shackles for us, it’s freedom we choose.
4~*~
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The day was frigid with snow piles high;
reindeer would never ever try to fly.
I hoped I wasn’t missed by Santa’s speeding sleigh.
Who can be called to postpone Christmas day?
~
I looked out the window at snow all day.
It was a day too cold to go outside and play.
Stores were closed and phone lines were down.
Street lights were flickering all over town.
~
Dad read some books and we played with blocks.
Mom knitted dad new Christmas knee-socks.
Our oven was warm so I sat close in my chair.
I was waiting for cookies for us all to share.
~
Our Christmas Eve had now just begun.
But supper was first before more fun.
The radio played softly out in the hall.
Eve, our shepherd chewed on her ball.
~
While sipping cocoa, I got foam on my nose.
Dad told a joke about a nose that glows.
Mom stacked some presents, but just a few.
She put Grandma’s aside, I had two.
~
We all went to bed with our flashlights ready.
I got tucked in and snuggled with teddy.
I couldn’t sleep thinking of all the snow.
And how Santa could see where he should go.
~
But when he gets here, he’d need a rest.
A warm comfy chair would be the best.
Maybe more cookies will help him to sleep.
So I slipped out of bed without a peep.
~
I went down to the kitchen on tippy toe.
The night lights flickered from the wind and snow.
The hallway was dark, it seemed longer than before.
The handle looked higher on the old kitchen door.
~
With each step a creak that sounded like “nooo…”
Each step I take I thought I shouldn’t go.
But go I must for old Santa’s sake.
Even Santa must need a break.
~
I’m sure he has other places to go.
How he does it I’ll never know.
But I’m glad to lend him a helping hand.
So he can have a rest that wasn’t planned.
~
Before I knew it the handle was near.
Reaching up I turned it without fear.
I opened the door and to my surprise,
Eve stayed asleep and didn’t rise.
~
I stepped softly past her moonlit bed,
then over to the cupboard just ahead.
I smelled the cookies hiding up there,
too high to reach with just a chair.
~
I felt all around in the dark of night,
looking for the stool with a height just right.
One more step and my stool was found.
I stubbed my toe but made no sound.
~
Eve stayed asleep on her warm cozy bed.
I quietly limped to the goodies ahead.
I climbed up on the stool so I could see,
then reached for the cookies for Santa and me.
~
The night-light went out and I couldn’t go far,
my hand was stuck in that cookie jar.
But with a wiggle and jiggle and lots of stress,
I freed my hand and with not much mess.
~
I put the jar back up high where it goes.
I closed the lid tight so no one knows.
Then I was frozen in that one scary spot,
doing something I should have not.
~
The floor seemed far and I felt small.
Slowly I sat, afraid I would fall.
Then Eve’s wet nose nudged my back,
a welcome touch when all was black.
~
We both snuggled in Eve’s warm, cozy bed,
her big drooling mouth rested on my head.
I woke up wet but toasty warm.
I was happy we survived the storm.
~
On the window sill our old cat lay.
She’s the first to see a bright new day.
She ate the crumbs I left on the floor.
Then back to her sill when there was no more.
~
I gave Eve a hug and thanks for last night;
she kept me safe when there was no light.
My cookies were crumbled all over Eve’s bed.
Though meant for Santa, now Eve’s instead.
~
She gobbled her snack and left no trace.
And when she was done she licked my face.
Then mom rushed in, glad I’m all right.
I told her about my plan for last night.
~
She wasn’t pleased, that I could tell.
She gave me a hug when I thought she’d yell.
Dad soon came in scratching his head.
He asked us why we were all in Eve’s bed.
~
Mom told him the story of my planned surprise.
Dad listed the reasons why my plan wasn’t wise.
I said I was sorry and from now on I’ll be good.
And I’ll sleep with Eve every night as I should.
~
Mom and Dad said later on we’ll talk.
Let’s first stand up and we’ll take a walk.
I followed them quietly with Eve by my side.
We got to the living room and I almost cried.
~
Santa had come and saved Christmas day.
But the presents can wait, Eve wanted to play.
We played together and now I believe;
Christmas is best with my Christmas Eve.
~*~
SCK120821
Chapter 1 ~ The Beginning
All’s quite this early winter’s night.
Embers fade in the candles dancing light.
I was thinking of Christmas, many years past.
Those fond old memories now fading fast.
I recalled when our home came alive.
I was just a small girl of about five.
It was a grand old house for mom, dad and me.
Sat perched on a hill overlooking the sea.
It’s still a museum in our little town.
It was built by a General of historic renown.
Shared with his bride Martha, she had a sad life.
The General’s a hero, she a young widowed wife.
We cared for the house and gave the tours.
All year long we opened our doors.
We welcomed the guest to step back in time.
So come on in and share our rhyme.
I lay awake and tossed and turned.
Thinking of school and all I learned.
Letters and numbers and new friends,
I hope kindergarten never ends.
My thought disturbed by shapes on the wall,
a moonlit dance, shadows big and small.
It pranced to my table that’s set for tea.
There’s a seat for Teddy and Dolly plus one for me.
It climbed the chair with a dancer’s grace.
She must be a girl with a whiskered face.
Dolly left some crumbs on her plate.
When I remembered it was too late.
I Left a treat each night for a week.
I tried staying awake to catch a peek.
I’ll call her Martha, like our homes bride
But when I giggled she ran to hide.
Chapter 2 ~ New Friends
The days passed, she’d visit most nights.
She kept unseen until I turn out the lights.
She knows I’m cozy in my warm bed.
She smiles and winks, thankful she’s fed.
One night I waited, still in my chair.
Starlight warmed the chilly night air.
Eyelids dropped like the falling moon.
I hope my visitor gets here soon.
Night turned to day, feet cold on the floor.
I missed my friend but goodies no more.
The next night I brought a cookie to bed.
I woke with my new friend by my head.
Days got colder, Christmas was near.
I looked forward to the snacks we share.
Each passing night our friendship grows.
We chat and laugh, I scratch her nose.
Thanksgiving’s past, Santa’s on his way.
The tree goes up, brighter each day.
We’re happy to welcome all our new guests,
while I wore my new colonial dress.
I tell them of the homes long past,
Of all that’s lived here, my family last.
I tell them of their history.
But never a word of Martha and me.
On the last day of school before the break,
we celebrated with carols and cake.
We shared cards and hugs then on our way.
We’re off to the bus and our long holiday.
Glad to be home, much to be done.
Baking and wrapping with mom will be fun.
I think Christmas is the best time of year.
There’s lots of visits from friends far and near.
Chapter 3 ~ Good and Bad
It’s not just gifts that makes Christmas best.
It’s all the excitement, no time for rest.
One snowy day mom and I went to town.
Main Street’s so merry, never a frown.
When we returned from our last minute shop,
we saw a truck with a light on top.
A man in a hardhat talked with my dad.
They both spoke quietly and looked very sad.
My parents whispered, thought I didn’t hear.
Something’s was broken too much to repair.
Said we’re leaving, where they don’t know.
I loved our home and didn’t want to go.
I gave the last tour on that very sad day.
We finished our cocoa with little to say.
Mom read aloud then kissed me goodnight.
Dad tucked me in, turned out the light.
I lay sobbing at the loss of our house.
No new friends, no Martha the mouse.
I then had a plan and ran for my bank.
Shook out the coins and my little heart sank.
Martha came close, she knew I was sad.
I forgot the snacks but she wasn’t mad.
We counted my pennies in moonlight,
then crept downstairs later that night.
We tucked my bank under the tree.
It’s for our old house from Martha and me.
But one last thing and then back to bed,
a snack for Martha and a pat on her head.
My dad woke me early that Christmas day.
I knew he was sad, he smiled anyway.
We met mom in the hall, headed downstairs.
We all acted happy while holding back tears.
Chapter 4 ~ New Beginnings
The cookies were gone, Santa was here.
Beneath the tree, present are there.
But shocked to see something I’d never seen.
There are stacks of coins, sleeping mice in between.
They ate Santa’s cookies then took a nap.
All snuggled together in the Christmas wrap.
Sleeping soundly until mom screams.
Then all were awakened from their dreams.
Martha stood out front and winked at me.
She waved me over to come and see.
The piles of treasure they found last night.
That was lost under the floorboards out of sight.
The Generals treasure, his coins of gold.
There’s enough to fix our homes splendor of old.
Martha saved our house and Christmas too.
She helped write this rhyme to share with you.
From all of us here at our house of fun,
we’re glad to have shared our time as one,
We wish you the all best this holiday.
And may all your days be just your way.
The End
Steve Kittell 120114
There is an old hippy that lives at the North Pole.
He chugs from his mug and puffs on his bowl.
His mug of cider is both warm and sweet.
His bowl of tobacco is his once a week treat.
~
Mama makes brownies to keep hubby plump.
This task is made easy as he sits on his rump.
The elves do the work most of the year,
until Santa is called to guide his reindeer.
~
He then flies the globe in the dark of night.
And he’s only one chance to get it all right.
The clock is ticking with no hour hand.
Quickly he soars over cities, oceans and sand.
~
A long list he keeps so no one is missed.
He then gobbles up cookies and sometimes is kissed.
Then kids everywhere wake to presents galore.
Then Santa will rest for another year more.
~*~
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Our day of thanks is past.
And Christmas is coming fast.
Now all the roads are jammed.
And mailboxes are getting spammed.
~
Traveling from all around,
our friends and family abound.
The mistletoe will hang in wait,
ready for the kissers’ fate.
~
With ornaments galore arranged,
precious gifts will be exchanged,
The food and fun will joyfully flow.
But then it’s back to shoveling snow.
~*~
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It was up to the attic for decorations to find.
But halfway there it just slipped my mind.
I’ve got cards to send, I made a list.
But it’s too late now, another year missed.
~
There are presents to get and beautifully wrap.
But I’ll give cash and save on the scrap.
I’ll need some food, so a trip to the store.
Or we can get pizza delivered to our door.
~
I’ll need clean towels for this year’s guest.
Or they can bring some that they like best.
And of course a Christmas tree, how could I forget.
But there’s always more so I won’t fret.
~
My house is mess and needs to be swept.
But it got a little late so to bed I crept.
Now I lay pondering how my time’s gone astray.
I think my Christmas spirit’s gone on holiday.
~*~
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It’s time for another Christmas poem,
cos it’s that time of year.
It’s to be filled with good will,
love and holiday cheer.
*
I could write about Santa,
with his busy little elves,
maybe an ode to their toys,
now cluttering my shelves.
*
I can get sappy for a tree,
our little spire of light,
I could rhyme about nothing,
as I do every night.
*
My purpose was clear,
at the start of this poem.
Blessings received I was to emote,
but that’d be a tome.
*
So now I’ll just end with good will to send.
Happy holidays to all, to all a good friend.
May your new year be one to transcend.
And a kiss to some, but that’ll depend.
~*~
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The season is upon us,
Christmas is almost here.
Trees are going up,
lights are everywhere.
~
Stores are getting crowded,
traffic’s now a mess.
Shoppers fill the streets,
more than I would guess.
~
Some lists are getting shorter,
mine has far to go.
But no time to worry,
I hope it doesn’t snow!
~
Kids are getting excited;
they know the day is near.
Adults too are frazzled,
overwhelmed by all the cheer.
~
There’re stockings to be filled,
then stockings to explore.
Goodies there are waiting,
a welcome end for sure.
~*~
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In a little town not far from here,
there lived a star, a puppeteer.
She entertained children near and far.
While her husband played his old guitar.
~
The puppets danced and the kids all giggled.
The guitarist sang and everyone wiggled.
But behind the show’s curtain of green,
the puppeteer performs, always unseen.
~
But she’s not sad, she’s quite content,
the show’s always fun and it pays the rent.
Their home life is great with two cats and a dog.
And in a pond nearby they had a pet frog.
~
Their children, now grown and moved far away,
but they all get together for Christmas day.
The tree lit up bright and gifts piled high.
They await the sunrise in the cold winter sky.
~
First up’s the grandkids, it’s time to explore.
Next was the dog that sleeps by the door.
The children were silent peaking at the gifts.
Each on lookout in five minute shifts.
~
Tape’s gently pulled and corners peeled back,
they had to work fast to get through the stack.
The children were careful to not make a mess,
because if caught, next year there’d be less.
~
It didn’t take long for them to realize,
the presents were fake and the pets were spies.
The children panicked and ran back to their beds,
to dream once more of dolls, blocks and sleds.
~
But the parents sat waiting at the top of the stairs.
The kids now caught broke down in tears.
They ruined Christmas and the parents were mad.
The grandparents were disappointed and that was sad.
~
A lecture was given while breakfast they ate.
Grandma’s lesson was good things are worth the wait.
And that things are not always as they appear,
you can take it from her, she’s a puppeteer.
~
Breakfast was finished at a leisurely pace.
Anticipation beamed from everyone’s face.
Then a puppet appeared dressed as Santa Claus,
who passed out presents to much applause.
~*~
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Fancy wrap can’t hide from my eyes,
A gift that’s familiar in shape and size.
It’s the present that I adore.
They’re the toy that’s never a bore.
*
They’re a box of possibilities,
a forest full of Christmas trees.
A blanket of snow and garlands bright,
with a flicker of lights in the night.
*
They’re singing birdies just for me,
or a sailing ship on a stormy sea.
They’re autumn play and a summer breeze,
the colors of spring and buzzing bees.
*
With this one gift I’ll need no-more.
It’s a box of sixty-four!
There are colors for sad and more for glad.
They’re all perfect and none are bad.
*
What endless choices to be found.
But what is the color of sound?
What is the color of a kiss?
I’ll someday find those colors amiss.
*
They’re jewels in a treasure chest.
Something shared with a special guest.
We draw and print or color books,
while snuggled in our secret nooks.
*
I’m glad they float, though labels’ lost.
Nothing left to be peeled and tossed.
Then guides are gone for shades unknown.
But I’ll know them all, when I’m grown.
*
My cat swats greens under my bed.
My dog’s favorite to eat is red.
We all roll fast and giggle for more.
When they’re like bearings on the floor.
*
We build rainbows to the sky.
Stacked like logs to make towers high.
We lose the ones we like the best.
Then have extras of all the rest.
*
They’re a gift that’s always welcome.
They’re used up quick or saved by some.
Look what Harold did with just one.
My sixty-four are much more fun.
*
Stored neat in a box with a lid that flips,
and a hole on the back to sharpen tips.
Enough to share with all my friends,
we can draw a line that never ends.
*
Though mostly used sparingly,
tucked safe in a drawer, just for me.
They somehow seem to go away.
And just in time for Christmas day.
*
The End
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rhymesalot 