Rest in Fleece

One more month and spring is here.
When freezing to death’s no longer a fear.
We’ll pack our sweaters, hats and coats.
Soon the bay will fill with boats.
~
Flowers will bloom and temps will rise.
Trees will green before longing eyes.
Days get longer, nights a bit cool.
But now we wait, because time’s cruel.
~
I don’t hate winter or the cold.
But those months are growing old.
I do like autumn but spring is still best.
So for one more month I’ll just rest.

~*~
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Figmented

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 shows 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 that 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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Soupy Forecast

Whenever I think I’ve been reinvented,
something gets lost, broken or dented.
Change is good is what they say.
But then I don’t know who I’ll be that day.
~
Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or coffee,
there’s no one best we all can agree.
Fit and lean or skinny and wasted,
personal palettes are always what’s tasted.
~
Intelligence’s graded by those who agree,
calamity then guided by another’s stupidity.
Sink or swim, lose or fight,
will it matter when the victor’s right.
~
As of today I have no conclusion,
just more questions and confusion.
Perhaps tomorrow I’ll know what’s what.
So for now I’ll just follow my gut.

~*~
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Snakes in the Grass

black and red snake on green grass

My story began on the fifth of May.
The day was chilly with a sky of gray.
In my tent, cozy, I woke to a scream.
Was it a person or was it a dream?
~
Morning dew thick, I stood there alone.
The sun newly risen, I reached for my phone.
No urgent messages or a soul in sight.
No reason at all to cause such a fright.
~
The bikes were still leaning on a nearby tree.
They’re the only way home for my pal and me.
I then ran to the tent of my snoring friend,
who’s along for the ride this spring weekend.
~
But the roar from within made it quite clear,
my old friend’s just fine, no need to fear.
I then glanced down the path to a campsite nearby.
Something felt wrong but I didn’t know why.
~
I tiptoed closer when another scream was heard.
It was the voice of a child, but that seemed absurd.
I then ran to the shrieking and what did I find?
Kids with a snake and they weren’t being kind.
~
I said hey kids “what’s with the noise?
And why do you think that snakes are toys?”
One little girl about seven or eight,
said she wanted a pet and snakes are great.
~
Her brother the screamer cried at the thought.
He’s afraid of snakes or anything caught.
The other two children stood quiet and surprised,
their naughty ways they now realized.
~
I said all life should be treated as if it’s your own.
A lesson you should have already known.
Soon the kid’s parents arrived on the scene.
Their mother was angry, their father, big and mean.
~
He yelled loudly at his children and then at me.
Saying stay away from my kids or trouble you’ll see.
I knew not to argue or make a big fuss.
But there was something I hoped to discuss.
~
I said “no problem, it’s not what it seems.”
I then told them my story of snakes and screams.
Their mom, disgusted, took the kids back to camp.
The dad growled asking “do you think I’m damp?”
~
Puzzled, I asked “what do you mean,
I’ve only told you what I’ve seen.”
“I saw no snake, just my kids and you.”
The dad replied, “What would you do?”
~
I know what I thought, but I couldn’t say.
I felt it best to live through the day.
I could’ve run, but to where?
I could’ve fought him, but I didn’t dare.
~
He then picked up a very big stick.
Then he charged at me like a lunatic.
I stood frozen awaiting my demise,
when the little snake caught the big man’s eyes.
~
He stopped on a dime and screamed in fear.
His reptilian angst now was clear.
So I slowly bent over and picked up the snake.
The big man then started to tremble and shake.
~
“This is the culprit,” I loudly said.
As I waved it gently near his clammy head.
Sobbing, he begged, “Please take it away.
I now believe everything you say.”
~
I took a step back, surprised and relieved.
The turn of events was hardly believed.
I thanked that snake and said goodbye to the dad.
He just waved, whimpering and sad.
~
I then put the snake down and walked quietly away.
I was relieved we survived this fine spring day.
I went back to my tent then fell back to sleep,
never to tell who a snake made weep.


~*~
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Left Behind

Lost in a wandering state of mind,
returning to memories I thought left behind.
A campground awaits from decades of yore,
There’s a lake nearby and nature galore.

Summers there filled with family and friends,
as the specter of youth unknowingly ends.
The journey’s now short to a time long past.
My cabin soon appears while the sun fades fast.

The sky was clear, blues deepened to black.
The stars shone bright, they welcomed me back.
I relaxed on the porch and sipped iced tea,
my friends due tomorrow the night was for me.

With waning moon the damp mist rose,
crickets serenaded, eyes started to close.
Blissful sensations then the start of dreams,
when startled was I by familiar screams.

Dolly, Dolly, Dolly! was all she ever said,
her childhood taunts now flooding my head.
She’s the ghostly remains of horrors we’d share.
The truth is haunting when better a nightmare.

She would scratch at the screen above my bed.
I’d shriek and shiver and cower with dread.
Mornings would come, I’d report of my fright,
“that little girl’s ghost came to take me last night”.

My brothers would tease and mom consoled,
dad says they’re figments of tales I’ve been told.
But when evenings cool and crescent moon high,
dense fog rose and that child would cry.

Dolly, dolly, dolly is all she would say,
Her bony hand summoned and pointed the way.
Never dared I answer her mournful request.
Silently I’d wait, ignoring my guest.

It’s been many years since last we met.
Time I’ve tried hard, but to never forget.
Now I’ve matured and conscience will decide.
Am I to seek or again shall I hide?

I know not what of this phantoms despair.
Yet together there’s grief we seemingly share.
Her woe is death while mine’s the living.
Each is assured though neither forgiving.

Our paths have crossed, all have an end.
My choice is made by this spirited friend.
With eyes open wide follow I must,
forsaking not, that lost child’s trust.

I rose and leaned forward, held out my hand.
Our fate’s to obey and to command.
We dashed through the field and into the woods.
A moment imagined of pleasant childhoods.

Each step echoes with brittle twig snap.
Till the shadows of trees soon overlap.
To guide my way mere slivers of light,
pursuing my phantom into the night.

Thicket and bramble claw at my skin,
bleeding the courage from deep within.
The worn paths end at fresh fallen leaf,
this forest beyond, beyond my belief.

Spirits roam free where the living don’t tread.
My friend had returned to her life of the dead.
I wished again to hide safe behind closed eyes,
trading this vision for dreams of blue skies.

The girl then pointed at boulders stacked high,
interwoven with brush to hide from the eye.
All layers of shadow, grays deepened to black,
foretelling the depth of crevice and crack.

Her hazy glow grew brighter, eyes more intense,
repeated cries for dolly now making sense.
She’s lost a dear friend and I’m chosen to find.
To abandon now this child was beyond unkind.

Exited are we, our quest’s nearly done.
‘Twas a test of persistence, both surely won.
My mind’s now a flutter, heart beating proud,
grasping in darkness through thick thorny shroud.

Our search going well till that last step was taken,
the ground then vanished, I was tumbled and shaken.
I awoke sometime later to whispers, mumbles and cries.
My new friend stood close as I opened my eyes.

I saw Dolly held tightly and a bustle nearby.
Mourners had grouped where a still body lie.
A lifeless figure with a familiar shape and size.
The live too are familiar, all saying goodbyes.

The little girl thanked me for my many good deeds.
As slowly she faded having found what she needs.
I begged to be taken for I’ve been truly kind.
When last she said “You need first find needs left behind.”

.
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That’s It

Hello world, how do you do?
I’ve got a little something to share with you.
The sun has risen and the day is new.
But what comes next I’ve not a clue.
~
I’m sure you’re feeling much the same,
though to be confused there is no shame.
Mistakes get made, we share the blame.
Wouldn’t it be nice if life were tame?
~
Imagine the place this world could be,
if all could live both safe and free.
Think of the wonders we’d all see.
See you tomorrow, that’s it for me.

~*~
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All Ends Dwell

I’m sorry I have no poem today.
I’ve actually started two.
But I have no endings.
So I’ve nothing to share with you.
~
Fortunately there are tomorrows.
Perhaps I’ll end them then.
Or maybe this is a metaphor;
for the fickleness of the pen.
~
Many things get started.
Only some will see an end.
But until there’s a conclusion,
a finish, we can pretend.
~
So I’ll pretend my poems are great.
They start off really well.
And I’ll imagine it’s a perfect day.
For the unknown we shouldn’t dwell.

~*~
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Always Sunny Sometimes Funny

Valentine’s Day now is near.
But again I’ve no poem this year.
I find the day a stressful time,
my mind goes blank and I’ve no rhyme.
~
But I do have love and she loves me.
And the day’s still young, so we’ll see.
My pencil’s sharp and coffee’s ready,
the sun now risen, my hands still steady.
~
An hour’s past and words are few;
perhaps a card will have to do.
But just wait, I’m no quitter.
Though a bit lazy and a prolific sitter.
~
So I’ll take a break then try once more.
I’ve enough to say, that’s for sure.
I could write of the things she does for me.
And of the beauty she helps me see.
~
I could mention the way she makes me feel;
each day assured our love is real.
I must also include our morning kisses,
and how she exceeds all my wishes.
~
There’s also the snuggling every night,
and how wonderful she is in the morning light.
And how she makes my heartbeats race,
my worries vanished without a trace.
~
We both laugh a lot, though I’m not always funny.
Her tolerance’s high and disposition’s sunny.
Our future’s bright, what more can I say?
Oh yeah; Happy Valentine’s Day!

~*~
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Ready, Set, Love

With a poem to view and flowers to smell,
candies to nibble and jokes to tell,
I’m ready for this Valentine’s Day,
when love is shared the old fashioned way.
~
I’ll wake her gently with a kiss on the cheek.
Then sneak one more before she can speak.
I’ll say good morning, happy Valentine’s Day!
We’ll snuggle awhile then up and away.
~
We’ll sip our coffee and enjoy the blooms.
And then when we’re done the kissing resumes.
I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful day.
Why would it be any other way?

~*~
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Stress Test

A poet’s life should bear no stress.
But once a year’s OK, I guess.
It’s the only day that I truly fear.
And Valentine’s Day is growing near.
~
It’s the only day when something’s expected.
And a bad poem that day may be rejected.
So I show her my love in every way.
She’s awakened to kisses every day.
~
Flowers not often but she likes the surprise.
I love to see the joy in her eyes.
I tell her she’s lovely, my beautiful queen.
And that she’s the star on my big screen.
~
Hugs are many and poems not a few.
After all, it’s what I supposedly do.
But today I’m stressed as the day is near.
I expect something special for my beloved dear.
~
So alone I sit with pencils all ready.
My mind’s jumbled but my hands are steady.
I think of the love she gives to me.
And that she’s the one I long to see.
~
The hour grows late, now time for a rest.
I’ll awaken tomorrow and be at my best.
I’ll hold her close and nibble her ear.
And I’ll try not to worry about one day a year.

~*~
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Getting Old

My story today is put on hold.
I’ve snow to shovel in the cold.
This foolish weather’s getting old.
I should move south, so I’ve been told.
~
Fresh air and sunshine’s what I need.
No more boots or coats of tweed.
No more shovels, my winters freed.
But there’ll be no speedo, that’s agreed.
~
What about sunburn, I burn fast,
a lesson learned from my past.
And the bugs, their numbers vast,
hurricanes too are often forecast.
~
I’d miss the autumn with colors bright.
And the pleasant walks on a summer’s night.
Spring of course brings a new days light.
So one more year I guess is alright.

~*~
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Forgotten Peace

Peace is free but war is not.
Values burn and soon forgot.
Life’s the goal or so is told.
But talk’s cheap and death is gold.
~
Peace is free, fingers crossed.
Once caught worries tossed.
Savings saved and tucked away.
But safety ensured by others sway.
~
Peace is free so why not?
Prides delusion never forgot.
Hands of few guide the masses.
Feet of all climb the classes.
~
Peace is free, what’s the cost.
Friends made and pennies lost.
Keys are many, eyes in the slot.
Peace is free but we forgot.

~*~
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What the Schmuck

With icy fingers and hidden hands,
an unseen face footless stands.
Awaiting the cough of their next guest,
no’s no answer for their request.
~
“Follow me; your time has come,
the path is short, the feeling’s numb.
Two packs a day gives you early admission.
Your time with me is but a transition.”
~
The reaper laughed at their instructions,
fearing not their many abductions.
They said the pain would fade away,
but how long they wouldn’t say.
~
I gasped for breath, not wanting to go.
Why must it be now I didn’t know.
I said I quit the smokes a few weeks back.
“I’ve only a cold so please cut me some slack.”
~
They laughed again at my poor excuse.
Saying my line was long but I choose the noose.
I begged and pleaded to be set free.
They replied that they had a deal for me.
~
I said “that’s great”, not having a clue.
They then told me all the things I must do.
Their list was long but I happily agreed.
I’d now do anything, if to only be freed.
~
They said they’d go but they’d leave a scar.
Then a loud scary cry was heard from afar.
The reaper then vanished and I lay alone,
reflecting on the habits I’m prone.
~
A new day’s begun and life’s the more dear.
The clock’s still ticking but the ends not so near.
I bargained with death but won’t press my luck.
And my future’s now brighter, no longer a schmuck.

~*~
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Acme

Acme is the place we all want to be.
It’s the pinnacle and the entire world’s to see.
It’s where our flights of fancy are flying free,
anvils no problem with the power of we.
~
A peek at our peak we imagine and seek.
Up and down in waves we speak.
Whether yacht or dingy, they all will leak.
And my day’s high point is to kiss your cheek.
~
Now back to acme before I wander too far.
It’s the place that sets the bar.
Most won’t get there with just a car.
But our match is won, no need to spar.
~
Optimally positioned to spend time with you,
our love’s a summit seen by a few.
And with you I’m at my apogee,
that’s why you’re the acme for me.

~*~
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Just Because

My machine is broken on this cold winter’s day.
I woke up early but I’ve nothing to say.
My pad looks lonely with no words on it yet.
So I looked out the window for inspiration to get.
~
But the sky is gray and the snow is brown.
And the hour’s too early for any action in town.
The birds are still nested and the squirrels asleep.
The cats are about but not making a peep.
~
My world is quiet, silence is heard.
My vision is clear but my thoughts are blurred.
So I look at the news, but nothing’s good there.
So alone I sit on my old kitchen chair.
~
Something will come, it usually does,
I don’t know the reason so I say it’s because.
Because, because is the answer we give when we’ve none,
so that’s all for now because I’m done.

~*~
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The Plump Rump Present Dump

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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Shady Chances

The sun’s yet risen and the wait’s begun.
The weather is miserable and not much fun.
Yet here I stand shivering and wet,
desperately hoping I’ll win this year’s bet.
~
Losers are more than winners by far,
but another day’s wages I slapped on that bar.
Chances we take most every day,
so by this hole I’m going to stay.
~
Just a little sunshine is all it will take,
so I look to the clouds, hoping they’ll break.
Will that big rodent peek from their den?
We all know why but no one knows when.
~
Then out pops a head in search of a treat,
as it’s been a long winter with nothing to eat.
But a shadow was seen, so more winter’s to follow.
Now I’m cold, broke and tired and pride I must swallow.

~*~
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