Lust makes one happy.
Hate’s never alone.
Love’s always plural.
Choices are our own.
Lust makes one happy.
Hate’s never alone.
Love’s always plural.
Choices are our own.
I bought the line I was sold.
I did the things I was told.
Now I wait for my silver and gold.
But yesterday’s news is already old.
Tomorrows will come, again I’ll try.
I’ll great the day with the morning sky.
Horizon bound, I’ll not ask why.
I’ll know the answers when I die.
But today’s today, I see the sun.
Eyes are open, the start’s begun.
The day is long at two to one.
Before I sleep I’ll have some fun.
When I rise the future’s new.
Options abound but choices few.
I think I know what I will do.
But that’s a guess, I have no clue.
My poem today starts at the end.
It begins with a letter I didn’t send.
She kissed my cheek then closed the door.
We departed as friends though I hoped for more.
Our morning was rushed and I left in haste.
My ship was sailing, I’d no time to waste.
A week then passed and her letter I received.
Perhaps her feelings were more than perceived.
Her English was poor but my French was nil.
If it were better I might know her still.
I reread that letter ten times a day.
Her words, once vibrant, soon faded away.
Her youth’s everlasting as I’ve grown,
decades long past, her name’s now unknown.
And now miles divide as the time multiplies.
Yet still in mind I gaze in her eyes.
Awake to a dream and all of our wishes,
we’ve cuddles and kisses, a hit with the misses.
Good morning my love a new day’s begun.
Let’s rise to new heights and follow the sun.
On a breeze we’ll soar and glide evermore,
with stars to guide our fates we’ll explore.
Our views aligned our vision’s ahead,
our eyes on each other and forward we’re led.
Laughter we treasure with each new endeavor.
Time on our side our love is forever.
Our evening’s sublime our morning’s delicious,
we’ve cuddles and kisses there are no near misses.
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.
Where rocky cliff meets stormy sea,
a castle perched, forever be.
Where gray stone surrounds little seen sky.
‘Twas this fortress a young princess cry.
The princess post birth, her parents delight,
treasured by day, guarded by night.
Feasting with jesters, ponies, puppets and maids,
a gaggle of servants draw bright velvet shades
With sentry of knight to share all her dreams,
her eyes shut tight to hide her screams.
Time wasted limitless, she wished for an end.
The princess was lonely without a true friend.
One morning awoken by a kiss from a queen,
sleepy eyes opened to a sight seldom seen.
Golden light sparkles in diamond pane rare,
a sapphire morn burns black coal night air.
A tasty breakfast served on tray in bed.
Downy pillows fluffed to rest her head.
The king arrived more jolly than ever,
with riddle to solve, if anyone clever.
“What may have wings cannot fly.
Holds a heart yet cannot die.
Shaken pitch laughs off rain.
Having one a princess to gain?”
The joyous young girl made many a guess.
The kings’ piddling patience grew less and less.
The queen and knights all had a try.
The king muttered “castle!” with a loud sigh.
The room bemused by the riddler’s zeal.
Most unconcerned with how others feel.
A castle repeated in more pleasant a tone,
a home for a princess to call her own.
But first a short trip outside the wall,
where grass tickles feet and trees grow tall.
There are lessons to learn from tutors wise.
There are truths to see with growing eyes.
Now’s time a princess must prepare,
for the eventual call of a prince to be dear.
A someday king awaits his throne,
whence you shall rest upon your own.
The princess knew the day would come,
a bartered prize as was her Mum.
No fairy tale endings for spawn of kings.
“Tis a life shackled with heavy gold rings.
Adventure awaits, no time for self-pity,
freedom’s short locked in a stone city.
Knowledge abounds beyond heavy gates.
The princess skips past on worn ancient slates.
Beneath a fine bonnet of satin and lace,
excitement glowed on her adolescent face.
Her velvet shoes barely touching the dirt,
a merry cyclone a-swirl in silk skirt.
Her mentor soon waves from path by wood.
Magical flora beckons, some bad, some good.
Wonders overwhelm in green forest lush.
An ocean of emeralds painted with brush.
With each lash a-flutter bursts a new color.
Light and shades multiply them all more.
With the thirst of a sponge she did explore,
where surprises abound when not looked for.
A gentle breeze blew, a little leaf flew,
bright sky filled in the space anew
A ray of sunlight kissed a shiny stone.
Atop a bed of dewy leaf it rests alone.
With a tiny tap upon its shimmering side,
the distant fates of two collide.
Surface cracking on this egg thought stone,
a heartbeat wakened with thunderous tone.
Out popped a plump lump, beneath wings of scale.
A pat on the rump exposed its long tail.
A final stretch thrust shell shards to leaf.
And there lie a creature beyond belief.
Warm smiles shared with a new friend.
A precious little pearl, the girl’s to defend.
The gazes shattered by a howl from the trail,
‘twas the elderly teacher, impatient and frail.
The princess knew what had to be done.
The babe hid under her bonnet and bun.
Down the path she ran back to the gate.
Yelled to the guards “The teacher was late”
Gates barely open she slipped through the crack,
escaping notice of the tail down her back.
Safe in her chamber they shared the night’s meal,
both sharing puckers with fresh lemon peel.
Then swathed in plush robes, kissed on the head,
the fledgling was tucked safely under the bed.
Each night passing, more robes to conceal,
this teething tot with big teeth that’s real.
Each day growing from the princess’s scraps,
she grew thinner, now padded with straps.
The servants grew nervous at both the sight,
one lie near weightless, one flew in the night.
The princess’s secret though soon was known,
when her expanding friend went out alone.
The knights became dazed by armored flight,
their swords no match for the hunger of night.
The king and queen where too nearly maimed.
Pawns, bishops and rooks where all to be blamed.
A wizard was called to tame the toddler beast.
His tenure cut short when almost a feast.
The creature now huge, truly loved the girl.
She called her Sunshine, the princess’s Pearl.
Together they frolicked on the castle rooftop.
The king spying danger called for a stop.
Shouting “time’s come to put childhood behind,
It’s now time to marry, I’ve someone in mind.
He’s brave, sweet, wise and kind, at least I’m told.
There’ll be time to adjust as you both grow old.”
Escorted by king to a royal coach and four,
off to be locked behind another gilded door.
Her fate was sealed by a noble families need,
alliances grown with common regal seed.
But with a twist, jerk and a naughty giggle,
the squiggly princess was free now to wiggle.
Breaking free, running fast, past all unaware.
She zigged and zagged toward the rooftop stair.
Screaming loudly for her only friend Pearl,
who tried to save the much pursued girl.
A guard with a pike held Pearl on a chain.
Blocking the Sunshine’s escape of the reign.
Seeing her friend at the top of the stair,
Pearl snapped her links then into the air.
The petrified guard fled from his post,
grabbing for Sunshine he’d surely be toast.
The princess ran to the edge of the roof,
yelling to Pearl, she feared aloof.
The big eared beast sharply turned about,
hearing her Sunshine’s gloomy shout
The king with guards, knights and queen,
Stormed to the roof unprepared for what’s seen.
The princess looked back, blew a kiss to her mother,
and a warm thoughtful wave to all the other.
Then with a carefree step she disappeared.
Plunging to her sudden death, or so was feared.
The mortified lookers all lunged for the ledge.
Hoping the princess landed safe in a hedge.
The king peeked over, not wanting to see,
when up rose his honey like a big bumble bee.
She hung from the neck of her dear friend Pearl,
now bonded for life, this dragon and girl.
Higher she climbed with a dragons eye view,
a view to be viewed by a very small few.
Now all surveyed, now all her realm,
Sunshine’s the captain, Pearl the helm.
Over forest and mountains, ocean and stream,
free in a world where she need not dream.
Adrift on her Pearl upon the endless sea,
Alone they now be in their realm of fantasy.
The king broken hearted wept in his sleep.
The queen stricken ill with never a peep.
They later agreed to bare a new heir,
whether girl or boy was not a care.
The next child’s fate was sure to be better,
born free of mind and trappings that clutter.
With a loving heart nurtured by family and friends,
then given the choices to choose their own ends.
The princess returned in time for the birth.
The kingdom was full of merriment and mirth.
The princess enchanted with a friend who flew.
And all ends happily as fairy tales all do.
I’m starting my day in a positive way.
Good morning to all is what I say.
If it’s not morning have a good night.
Your time will come to see the light.
Life will be both happy and sad.
When it’s not bad you should be glad.
And when it’s good share your bliss.
If you’ve a partner, share a kiss.
Share your joy with one and all;
acts of kindness are never small.
A simple smile will brighten a day.
A simple good morning will have its sway.
Awake is a plus, the future starts there.
Dwell on the positives and subtract despair.
Time keeps ticking and forward we go.
Don’t be conned, think like a pro.
When a loved one’s in need and miles divide,
time compounds the hurt inside.
The pain felt distance can’t hide.
The mind wanders far and wide,
Visions conjured amplify dread.
The voices within, anticipation bred.
Polished words redundantly said.
Perception altered in a scattered head.
Fantasy and reality bear casualty.
Tears shed overflow with charity.
Hopes guide tomorrow’s clarity.
End’s certain with endless certainty.
The sun yet risen, the sky yet blue.
Yet my day grows brighter in my view.
A dream begins when I open my eyes.
The truth is seen as she lies.
Truth is felt with a gentle kiss.
She pulls me closer to share the bliss.
I feel her breath, our heartbeats in sync.
Our body’s one, none to think.
But if thoughts be had none compare.
A fantasy found, in love we stare.
Temperatures rise in the new dawns glow.
Our senses awaken, whispers flow.
Visions guide our pleasures sought.
Tomorrow’s now, time has taught.
Our love given is love received.
And another day we’ve achieved.
I’ve nothing to write, nothing to say,
nothing to do this fine spring day.
I’ve nothing to wish for, nothing to dream.
I’ve no reason to belt out a scream.
But scream I will if I choose,
what the hell, I’ve nothing to lose.
Well, maybe a little, as we all do.
But if you choose I’ll scream with you.
Feeling better, so do I,
now to enjoy the morning sky.
That was easy, why’d I wait?
I woke up neighbors but I feel great.
It’s always good to blow off some steam.
It’s always faster than it would seem.
If you’re not moved, stay out of the way.
Good morning to all, have a nice day.
It fogs my thoughts and ruins my sleep.
I now count likes because I’m the sheep.
Powerless for a day and I went insane,
I think the web’s controlling my brain.
I spend many hours checking the news.
Then I research the reasons for my blues.
The puzzled web of opinions never ends.
And I’ve games galore so I don’t need friends
I can take lots of photos no one will see,
recording things that were important to me.
I can compose emails and send a text,
then constantly wait for what comes next.
I can phone in my car with maps on the screen.
The music’s unlimited and videos seen,
I can cast to TV and see it large.
But I need a break; it’s time for a charge.
Love poems are many.
True love’s but few.
Love poems worked out.
True love’s in you.
Love poems imagined,
penned from the blue.
True love is felt,
a shared point of view.
Love poems warm hearts.
True love warms through.
Love poems we read.
True love we do.
I warn you now, do not read this.
There are no verses of enlightened bliss.
There’s not a word you would ever miss.
It’s but a passage as I reminisce.
Parts are true, some maybe not.
Time has fogged and some forgot.
Its pages of perspective yet to have a plot,
it’s yet to have an end or a juggernaut.
To a readers’ mind it’s a fictional brew.
And like yours parts too are true.
Our characters blended to shade our hue.
Our morals sculpted to fit our view.
Dreams are added, we all share those.
They’re a third of our life no one knows.
They’re also the guide that shapes and grows.
Our time awake, the dreaming then shows.
Memories linger and lessons remain.
There’s good and bad but none to regain.
Forwards the choice regardless the brain,
the author’s irrelevant; we’ve all had our pain.
If you’ve read this far just wait and see.
Our stories are similar, I think you’ll agree.
Our life is lived with hopes to be free.
And the ending’s the same for you and me.
A page from my book of dreams;
a tale of love, or so it seems.
I wake each day the dream doesn’t end.
Will she ever love me or shall I just pretend?
Technicolor visions and her scent in the air
Awaken from this dream I could never dare.
Her touch always welcome on my trembling skin.
When she says she loves me, my life will then begin.
Encounters of the flesh, too few to ever last.
Music of her voice now echoes of the past.
Sunlit voids surround were daylight once was bright.
Now only darkness brightens our rendezvouses of night.
Time for time-out it’ll end soon.
Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.
She’s had it since her wedding day.
Used just for holidays, not play.
I said that it was shaped just right,
to dig a trench where armies can fight.
Needs to be deep but not too wide.
Had to dig fast so they can hide.
Buried far down just like a tomb.
Guarding treasure found in your room.
Found in a box high on a chest.
It’s the booty pirates like best.
I must protect those shiny things:
chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.
Hid them good, remembered the map.
But then forgot after my nap.
To help me dig I found a pet.
The best digger there is I’ll bet.
Finished our yard then went next door.
Found nothing, ran off to dig more.
Chased our cat high up in the tree.
Grandma called the police for me.
Her nurse had to help make the call.
The police came, that isn’t all.
While chasing his dog that I found,
the man fell from holes in the ground.
He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.
I said it was his dog, not me.
His face was red, limping away.
But grandma’s heart will be okay.
And I have some more good news.
While digging today, I wore no shoes.
They’re nice and clean and tucked away.
I’ll try no pants some other day.
Though mess was made with my bare feet,
I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.
Pushed all the water out the door.
Then to your room, I cleaned some more.
Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.
I luckily then found the bleach.
You’ll smile when you turn on the light.
I know you like things clean and white,
with spots of color here and there.
You’ll surely hug your little dear.
I’m glad you’re home early today.
Don’t believe what the neighbors say.
The rescue came, Dad’s all right.
Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.
Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.
I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.
I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.
Fix the chair dad broke with his back.
He climbed too high to find his keys,
lost his balance from wobbly knees.
I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.
Then found soldiers under my bed.
Recalled the mission to be done.
Ran downstairs to start the fun.
Found no spoons not already bent.
But then found yours and out I went.
And that’s where my story began.
Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.
I know that time-outs hurt you too.
But when it’s done I’ll still love you.
Behold this welcome image.
Where a hill rises from a bay.
There a tiny sheltered village lay.
All in the shadow of Windmill Cottage.
Steady breeze most every day.
Sails from afar spill their goodwill.
From their nets sea treasure abound.
Farms thrive above on fertile ground.
Good fortune trickles down the hill.
Sea birds fill the air with sound.
Ancient timbers shade from lofty stage.
Labored grain grows upward at the season’s rate.
Winds howl, warmth’s aglow on the hill top grate.
Flour flows freely down from Windmill Cottage.
Where nature’s breath spins the wheel of a poets estate.
He attends happily to familiar chores.
Quarterly ledgers bulge beneath waistcoat fair.
His quarterly journey to the bankers’ lair.
His shadow alone opens Main Street doors.
Harvest moon will guide homeward the fortunate heir.
Dusk creeps up as day slips by.
Modest and ordered with nothing ablaze.
Must avoid the many scrupulous gaze.
In the shadows inhibitions die.
A visit with strangers, heads all a daze.
Journey’s end in darkness where hill meets bay.
Tufted coaches dash the posh up to their inns.
Others huddle by fire pits drinking homemade gins.
The trades of the night swap those of day.
Church bells echo, atoning for their sins.
Just another blurry face on the wooden shores.
Where the day’s death lingers and ships bells ring.
Taverns fill, ale flows and drunken sailors sing.
Fiddles play and jigs are had on the dirty floors.
Habitual killers all, Oh what joy they bring
Few will stay, most homeward bound.
Some laugh loudly while others cry.
Some will fight, some will die.
In search of peace to be found –
In the deep or endless sky.
Faceless comfort fills empty space.
Men with silver are sick for a day.
Boys with gold suffer years away.
Moonlit romance lingers on perfumed lace.
Then life’s anew beyond the tiny bay.
Sharing much common thread,
In this moment “ brothers all.
Whale lamps flicker on sooty wall
Making friends while breaking bread.
All await the Bosun’s call.
In a corner where shadows overlap.
The poet searches for his light,
Where the day’s brew flows all night.
Safe, for now from his hilltop trap,
Layers of darkness, out of sight.
Behold this most unwelcome image.
The seat no more where the poet presides.
Now in his shadow a filthy little demon hides.
Return not quenched to Windmill Cottage –
And wait again for the new moon tides?
Lonely candle spews depth on a lonely face.
Unseen pests sing their unwanted song,
The scent of time ticking long.
His travels must be many, all left a trace.
In the darkness our senses strong.
Hat brim low to hide his shame.
The poet stutters with utter surprise.
The traveler snickers, doesn’t rise.
With sideways glance he asks the poets name.
Honestly answered by the fear in his eyes.
When after long hesitation a hasty reply ”
“A traveler like you” was all that he said.
But after some ale the silence was dead.
Yard by yard many distant words fly.
Palettes grow when faces shade red.
Cider was next and followed by rum.
The traveler’s tales all told in prose.
The wetter the lips the faster it flows.
Hated by most, loved by some.
That’s how a traveler’s life often goes.
The poet a rather tall fellow.
The traveler a poet by name.
So many ports traveled they all looked the same.
His heart pumped blue, the poet gay and mellow.
Opposite sides of a coin, no one is to blame.
“With little time to hone a craft –
With a draft from an open door.
To close then return no-more.
To open then evermore – the draft.
Spirits gone, gone the craft – nevermore.”
What dribble do you speak my friend?
The poet inquired in disgusted tone.
“The dribble I think when thirsty and alone.”
The traveler quipped with message to send.
I’ll tell you another, that’s my own.
“Silent words are never heard –
The voiceless poet stuttered.
Repeated babble muttered.
His rhymes always sputtered.
More mindless words would be absurd.
The air he breathed was glutted.
His helm so poorly ruddered.
His shirts all heavily buttered.
From his many toasts self-uttered.
His mind so free and uncluttered.
His weaknesses many and unobserved.
Blinded to the Reaper’s shadow – deserved.
Soon the voiceless poet will be unheard.
Then blissful quiet on his paths wandered.
His welcome silence – forever heard.”
Drunken rabble roared with delight.
The poet withered belittled.
The traveler’s attention fizzled.
When laudanum’s sipped out of sight.
The poet escaped most grizzled.
Out of the dark into the night.
Bellowing air; cold, wet and starless.
His poisoned lips know no finesse.
His state of mind out of time – not right.
The poet’s mind wanders aimless.
The traveler tucked snugly in his bunk.
With help from many new joyous fan.
All loved the howls of this traveled Wild-man.
His tales make perfect sense “ drunk.
The favorite carried and the pompous ass ran.
Boot heals clack on cobble slick.
While stallion slumbers atop golden bed.
The poet stumbles upward with achy head.
If only to have his gilt throat-ed stick.
This shadowy path he may be found dead.
The wind that is my fortune is slowly killing me.
This hill of heritage too high for me to climb.
With forceful push from the hands of time.
Drawing me back to a frigid sea.
My misery oh-so great ” it is oh-so sublime.
Head tucked low, bottom up always slow.
Darkness wanes to purples then red.
Day is born, horrors of the night soon dead.
Hands and knees bloodied and bruised – falls of woe.
Alas the bodies of servants to guide to downy bed.
Winter’s behind, graven plans regress.
Fevered sleep past, shadows of death dawdle.
Summer awaits, the poet’s lessons dwindle.
His magnum opus went off to press.
Journey to Main Street, praise to guzzle.
Surveying high atop his magnificent mount.
The poet exclaimed “behold this welcome image”
Deceived by the bustle, not he the homage.
But a tome by a worldly traveler – no doubt.
It was “In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage”
Life fades to fallen hues.
Winter’s white with deepest blues.
Spring’s upon a pastel moon.
And summer shines none too soon.
Off to the mailbox for my monthly check,
when a crashing blow hit my neck.
I woke in a cell filled with other old guys.
We all laughed to find we’re all old spies.
An enemy hacked us and addresses found,
We were all then hostages held underground.
Our brains to be picked for treasure long lost,
the knowledge valuable as noted by their cost.
Across the hall were ladies we knew,
agents we recognized, but for a few.
A plan was hatched, arthritis be damned!
When a guard comes by they’ll be slammed.
We then waited and rested no need to hurry.
Naps are good and we’ve no need to worry.
The ladies then flirted with mature confidence.
The guard withered by worldly effervescence.
The code culled we shuffled to get free,
arm in arm in groups of three.
Footsteps heard then alarm bells rang.
Adrenaline soared and up we sprang.
Youth’s no match for the well-seasoned mind.
We hid in the shadows for them to find.
One by one the threats were gone.
And soon I’d be home to cut my lawn.
The weeds a bugger and leaves make a mess.
The grandkids expected, sorry to digress.
Now back to the story, before I forget.
We found the exit but the passage was wet.
Those rascals in charge too had a plan.
They’d drown us all like the cruelest hit man.
But optimists they are thinking they’d win.
As experts we’re all with the simple hairpin.
The water knee high and their lock we’d picked.
And soon they’d see who’d be tricked.
Gray, white and bald we glistened in the sun.
We strode out together, too old to run.
The culprits scrambled but soon were caught.
The lesson learned is time has taught.
And sometime silver is better than gold,
a precious reward growing old.
The church bell rang and doors flung wide.
We raised our heads and ran outside.
Sitting’s done, now’s time for fun.
Our Easter egg hunt has now begun.
It’s a perfect day with bright sunshine.
Our baskets ready we waited in line.
Till all were scattered on the count of three,
in every direction kids ran free.
I ran first to my favorite tree.
I found it’s the favorite of not just me.
So off to the hedge where eggs always found,
none’s left there so to the playground.
While the others searched I rode the swing.
When they had gone I heard birds sing.
I glanced to the trees and sounds nearby.
Then off jumped I and into the sky.
I landed in sand on two feet and one hand,
then a tumble or two and up I stand.
I turned to the fence where tall trees grew-
to search for a prize of an egg or two.
The chirps grew louder with each step I took.
Did they tell me to leave or tell me to look?
I kneeled near bushes and peeked below.
I stuck in my hand as far as would go.
Feeling around for a tasty surprise,
I pulled out an egg but smaller in size.
Holding tight it felt warm to the touch.
Then I knew why that bird chirped so much.
Gently I put the egg down on the ground,
took a few steps back not making a sound.
A whistle blew, the hunt was now done.
But silently I waited in the midday sun.
My basket is broken and clothes dirty and torn.
I knew I’d face my mother’s scorn.
But there’s more to life than clothes un-ripped.
There are some events that can’t be skipped.
There’s saving the things that you love.
Then a bird swooped down from above
She tapped the shell lightly with her beak.
A tiny head popped out to take a peek.
The mom nudged her chick back into the bush.
Her frightful chirping turned to a shush
Then another whistle blew, louder than ever.
To stay any longer just wouldn’t be clever.
I hurried back, joining up with the rest.
Our search was now over finding the best.
My cousin won second, they had four.
I found just one but I think I won more.
I’m taking a break from this pen and folly,
as my words of late have not been so jolly.
The spring is here and the flora’s in bloom.
Why should I wallow locked in this room?
I can’t spend my days writing alone,
I can’t watch more news or play with my phone.
My body needs movement and my brain needs repair.
So I’m going outside to enjoy the fresh air.
But not to worry, I’ll be back soon,
perhaps inspired by a beautiful moon.
Enough is enough of the weeks’ melancholy.
The weekend is here and I hope pen and folly.
I knew one day the time would come.
I knew one day my mind would numb.
This world it seems has gone awry.
Opinions flourish and people die.
Violence consumes and tears are shed.
Words are spoken but nothing’s said.
Charts are made to show us why.
Colors obscure the pictures’ lie.
Don’t be fooled this April day.
For one and all is what I say.
Numbers are tricky and often sly.
So think more equal so less will die.