Goldies Luck


There once were three bears living in the wood.

A small happy family, their life was good.

While out one day picking berries to munch,

a boy chanced by their cabin smelling of lunch.


He knocked on the door but no answer returned.

So he walked right in for the meal he yearned.

First he saw a fish stew with fins and a tail,

till luckily finding jellies and honey in a pail.


A feast this sweet thought he cannot be ignored,

so he nibbled, dribbled, slurped and then snored.

He woke sometime later with his teddy close by.

He thought it a dream till Teddy said “Hi”


The boy tried getting up to run for the door

But sleeping in honey made him stick to the floor

The little bear giggled and papa was mad.

Mama bear unstuck him and the little boy’s glad.


Then he’s off to the tub to scrub off the goo.

His lips staying stained a bright jelly blue.

He then cuddled by a fire feeling warm and dry.

While mama finds a recipe for a golden top pie.


After their lunch the bunch are full once more.

The little ones dashed to the forest to explore.

The boy returned stung by bees, wasps and fleas,

with scrapes and bruises on his hands and knees.


There’s dirt and rashes covering the rest,

that poor little boy was quite a mess.

He then nursed with care by the big mama bear,

while papa bear dozes in his huge favorite chair.


The little cub sent to finds some PJ’s to wear.

Then it’s time to sleep in a bed they all share.

After weeks of bear life the food made him ill.

Yet bears have no doctors or get well pill.


Papa bear knew what had to be done.

So to town he ventured with the rising sun.

The boy held secure, they arrived near noon.

Police with guns surrounded them soon.


The bear roared “Don’t shoot, I mean no harm.”

The little boy wiggled his weak little arm.

The shooters stood down till help arrived.

Watchful eyes waited for the boy to be revived.


Papa soon freed, went home and lived well.

The boy recovered then surely caught hell.

All knew the boy lucky surviving this time,

though chances golden when writing the rhyme.


And as with all tales there’s a lesson taught,

That running away won’t find what’s sought.

And if you chance a bear on some future journey,

good luck to you and say hello for me.



Seasonal Burps


April’s in with a wash, May’s out with a bloom.

June’s always good, July ends too soon.

August is hot, a time for the beach.

September’s when summer’s furthest from reach.

October refreshes with crispness and hue.

November we’re thanked for so much to do.

December’s for holidays when winter’s still bright.

January is mostly a long frozen night.

February’s short yet seems without end,

it’s the month of love and a shadowy friend.

Then time for the lion to come marching in –

for a spring outing with lambs and a grin.



Saw Was


Beneath a vast sky blue dome,

birthed in green the youthful roam.

Two decades nurtured by proctor and friends,

then thrust into space till their journey ends.


This planet called earth now but a machine,

where pits mined with mounds plied placed in between.

This once great population soon scattered far and wide,

sprinkled throughout the galaxy, but still nowhere to hide.


All in search of a place to start their lives anew,

into the infinite heavens where choices are but few.

Each spot of light that sparkles in this universe,

any may be our savior or another travelers curse.


In a quest never-ending for a world as it was,

when nature provided for all life – just because.

Billions have ventured none to return.

Yet explore they must for the past they yearn.


Their history blurred when what’s saw was to be.

Our future is the answer if we choose to see.



The Lottery

I’ll buy the ocean, tallest tree.

When I win the lottery.


A never-ending shopping spree.

When I win the lottery.


The good times we’ll have, you and me.

When I win the lottery.


I’ll share it all, just wait and see.

When I win the lottery.


 Can you spare a buck, it’s not free.

Then I’ll win the lottery.


The End