Adventures begin

When four wheels spin

On shady paths and city streets

In knitted booties or tiny bare feets


Our big happy faces loudly giggle

My little pink piggy’s squiggle and wiggle

When breezes tickle in warming sun

Our shiny four wheels are always fun


We go fast and slow, up and down

Sometimes mom calls dad a clown

Birds and dogs, signs and sound

There are moving pictures all around


With me always on journey’s far

Folds up neat to fit in the car

Adventure time’s what I like best

But sometime strollers need a rest


The End



Four See a Poet Well

Dive deep into this poets well

Rise with weighty, weedy shell

Float atop seas warm and clear

Drown in waves of icy despair


To the heavens soaring high

Gravity wins in darkened sky

Climb a ladder to emerge

Swim alone I do not urge


Forever shaken out to dry

Life is ripped with tear in eye

Lips conform to truth or lies

Four see and hear no silent cries


Poets tend to dive too soon

Writes tomorrows under moon

Sees a future without a past

Writes first, questions last


Boards to spring, slides to climb

Empty wells all fill in time

Time gives, takes and lends its hands

Turning forever in shifting sands


A place alone when hot

Vibrant when others not

A place that’s cooler than hell

Welcome all to a poets well



Empty Lot

Our empty lot’s not empty at all.
There’s a tree that’s extra big and tall.
It’s a place that us kids love to share.
It’s on my street so mom needn’t care.


We spend our sunny days in the shade.
There’s lots of dreaming in forts we made.
There’s bunches of dirt to dig deep holes.
Rainy puddles for toy fishing poles.


Our empty lot really has it all,
We hide and seek and sometimes play ball.
It’s the place where adventures begin.
A fence that keeps city out, kids in.


We’ve bugs and spiders, squirrels and cats.
There’s soft grass to sit for quiet chats.
We see dogs on leashes and birds without,
Some tweet, sing sweet others shout.


There’s rope jumping girls and running boys.
Everyone brings their favorite toys.

Weeds make jungles for our tiny men.
Tiny cars we lose then find again.


A place on Sundays for dads to mow.
A place anytime where friendships grow.
When the day’s fun’s done, I say goodnight.
To my old friend, under the street light.


The End



Cuckoos Clock

Hands rise

Weights fall

Chimes sing

Birds see

Cuckoos all


Keys twist

Springs wind

Gears mesh

Spindles turn

Hands unkind


Travel on

Sunny face

Divided lines

Hide numbers

Perpetual race


Hands fall

Weights rise

Chimes strike

Birds die

Cuckoo’s wise


Keys open

Spring trap

Hours Chime

Birds sing

Hands clap


Travel off

Years shock

Number’s turn

Time winds

Cuckoos clock



The Mothers Way

Cradles all her precious kin

Judges not, where life begins

Cherished breast nurture space

Moving forward her many race


One side day the other night

One side dark the other light

Sheds cool and rain, heat and snow

Her orbits share all else to know


Oceans deep, skies bright

Growing all, her suns might

She frees to wander, endless whys

Her moons revolve before her eyes


Dancing tides flowing minds

Infinite movement never binds

In this universe family all are we

This milky galaxy our mother be


The End



-Cherry on Top Sundries Shoppe

Every Sunday me and my Pop

Take a walk to the old sundries shop

Winter’s in boots and summer flip-flops

Anytime to the Cherry on Top


It’s not just a store, it’s so much more

A magic box filled with sundries galore

It’s everyone’s first and their last stop

All the time at the Cherry on Top


Welcoming doors always polished bright

Welcoming all to their sundries delight

Every week is a brand new crop

Any time at the Cherry on Top


A place with things too many to list

Lipsticks for lips that want to be kissed

There are bouncing balls and bats that bop

All the time at the Cherry on Top


Combs and brushes for hair and teeth

Halloween treats and Holiday wreaths

Baskets for bunnies with ears that flop

Any time at the Cherry on Top


Row after row of this’s and that’s

There are racks for jackets, hooks for hats

Handles for brooms and buckets for mops

All the time at the Cherry on Top


There’s cases packed with trinkets so bright

Batteries stacked for flashlights at night

They’ve got cards to send and cards to swap

Any time at the Cherry on Top


Way at the back, there’s medicines there

Carefully mixed by people who care

They carefully measure, count and chop

All the time at the Cherry on Top


Then the place – my favorite of all

It’s the lunch-counter, where I sit tall

Serving pie with whipped cream and gumdrops

Any time at the Cherry on Top


They’ve cakes, cookies, turkey and roasts

My dad always gets; juice, eggs and toast

Sunday’s best at the old sundries Shoppe

I get my sundae, cherry on top


The End




Pearls of beauty cost time and luck.

Pearls of wisdom spend lives in muck.

Pearls displayed on treasured chest,

  not the pearls that pearl’s love best.

A pearl adorned was a life we shuck,

  a pearls death when freed from muck.

Wisdom counters folly’s haste.

Pearls of nature are not to waste.

Muddy visions count the buck.

Oceans clear drown in muck.

Seas to rise in polar heat

Saving pearls from Follies Street

Pearls of wisdom we won’t pluck,

When life returns to natures muck.


The End


Mourning’s Time  

Mornings lost to mourning

Day’s lost to night

Night’s lost in darkness

Darkness longs for light


Sleepless nights, hopeless days

Hopeful nights, time slight

Day’s lost in hands-of-time

Time  wins times fight


Fists hide mourning’s face

Gentle hands, mornings bright

Night stars light mourned

Suns rise, all’s right


Nights fall, mourning ends

Faces shine ending fright

Mourning put to rest

Day returns to sight



Drink Deep

Puddled quill, a poet be

Inky shadows, light to see

Rest on well, tasting never


Awaken sun, rain is glee

Oceans spill when feathers free

Birds in flight swim forever


What is found, given thee 

Thirsty hands to quench the sea

Where not  to ask why is to err


               Where those who sink, never flee               

How?  Is to ask for the key

Those who don’t, don’t ever


Quill remiss begs heavy plea

The pond’s dry, no sweetened tea

When flightless fish, this poet be




Charlie’s Treat

Yesterday I won a ride on a Willy ship

Wasn’t long but a sweet little trip

Talked about the sun and jumbo gumdrops

Laughed at the moon and fuzzy lollipops


Weightless in a dark chocolate sky

Chasing ants – Oh! How fast they fly

Confections consume, the slim lie waist-ed

The best of the worse I’ve ever tasted


Rainbow sprinkles linger, floating past

Though sugar eyes aren’t meant to last

Adventures end on marshmallow bed

Sticky goo all stuck in my head


Tummy aches and tired teeth hurt

My cocoa now looks and tastes like dirt

But candy bars will, will never stop me

Needed warmth they’re enjoyed tooth free


Sliding down the licorice string

To rest in a basket bunnies bring

Waiting for hands of time to shake no more

Then I’ll re-wrap and go out for s’more