I’ve got birds in my gutters,
bats in my shed,
mice in the basement
and cobwebs in my head.
~
I got up really early,
but I’ve nothing good to do.
I’d like to take a walk,
but I only found one shoe.
~
I’d love a cup of coffee.
But the water I can’t drink.
I turned on the faucet
and sludge filled my sink.
~
But the sun is soon to rise,
I’ll see a brighter day.
Though rain’s in the forecast,
there’s darker shades of gray.
~*~
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Hello friend, can you please spare a buck?
Sorry for asking but I’m down on my luck.
The wife kicked me out and kept my old truck.
She smashed my guitar, now I’ve nothin’ to pluck.
~
She said I’m lazy and got no ambition.
I said her happiness is my only mission.
I do what I can, but ain’t no magician.
Tell ya the truth I’d rather be fishin’.
~
But she kept my rods too, locked in the shed.
And she found all the money hid under the bed.
She threw the good pan right at my head.
She mighta been pretty but she ain’t well bred.
~
She’s as strong as an ox, same size too.
She wears a men’s size twelve shoe.
And when she smiles my brain turns to goo.
But she’s gone now, I’ll have to make do.
~
Just a buck, friend, that’s all I need.
I’d ask for more but that be greed.
I don’t need much, I’m easy to feed.
I can’t be a beggar, but I will plead.
~
Thank you, friend, for sparing that buck.
I’m thinkin’ this is a change in my luck.
I can walk, damn it, I don’t need no truck.
Thank you, friend, for returning my pluck.
~*~
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Today’s the day my wish came true.
I awoke to sunshine next to you.
Our bodies are warm and minds at rest.
Our evening’s past the very best.
~
Dreams before are no better than this.
We’re two souls made one, the feeling’s bliss.
I now look forward to each new day.
For when I awake you look my way.
~*~
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Instantaneous conception
Darkened suspension
Quintessential isolation
Thrusted illumination
Blissful termination
Trusted dedication
Explored dimension
Forced memorization
Infinite confusion
Rising tension
Tense deliberation
Lofty ambition
Numbing frustration
Occasional jubilation
Generational creation
Much tribulation
Restful justification
Deserved relaxation
Diminishing pension
Perpetual hibernation
But so far mostly fun
Sck120812
In these changing times,
minds cannot stay still.
Violence spreads like wildfire,
testing our strength and will.
~
Thought’s our only guide,
misguided we are lost.
Shooting from the hip,
destruction is the cost.
~
Love is shared by all,
hearts beat their choice.
Hate is the divider,
drowning out our voice.
~
High upon a tightrope,
this world can feel small.
Balance is required,
the option is we fall.
~*~
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~*~
I always carry
graduated glasses, then
one’s always half full.
~
sck062717
Mornings start with the sunrise.
Life begins with open eyes.
These eyes see you when you’re not here.
These eyes see stars when you’re near.
~*~
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In this instant our day’s to start.
The sun rises with imagination’s art.
Canvases unfurl forever changing.
Changes unfurl with minds raging.
Heads spin to lust and learn.
And the ageless age with every turn.
It’s time itself telling time.
By degree our world’s a chime.
A brushes stroke and all’s made right.
Then our sun will rise on another’s night.
~*~
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While you slept I shared your dreams.
We’ve happy times and future schemes.
While you breathe my heart does beat.
When two’s in sync a life’s complete.
The sun will rise, the birds will sing.
Your eyes will open and joy it brings.
Our day will start in warm embrace.
The love is felt on your sunlit face.
~*~
SCK061618
~
Grays are Lies
To write with the dawn,
sky’s to rise to brilliant eyes.
To her I am drawn.
~
Tests Are
Sunday mornings are:
times of quiet and peaceful rest,
shared zest, feeling best.
~
We Are We
We are as we are.
We’re at the place that we are.
We choose who we are.
~*~
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Quills tingle, thoughts mingle
Heavy breathing, passionate feeling
Verbiage fill sheets strewn scribe the day
No time for grieving, just believing
That love will write our way
~
Sck030515
Innocence and wonder,
a child’s eye view,
air, land and sea collide,
a world that’s all new,
each blink a new tide,
years but too few.
Life’s ever changing,
soar as you do.
~*~
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Mom’s always angry and I’m fed up.
The kids are a pain and won’t shut up.
The little brats scream, yell and they shout.
There is no relief, not even when out.
~
They cost a lot too and always want more.
I’ve tripped over packages at my front door.
Something’s always broken and the house a mess.
We need a vacation, I must confess.
~
A hammock for two on a deserted beach,
with the comforts of home well within reach.
We’ll eat when we want and we’ll get up late.
By day we’ll frolic, each night a hot date.
~
We’ll call the kids weekly, just to say high.
Then we’ll hang-up when they start to cry.
We’ll bring back presents, two for each.
But if they’re bad we’re back to the beach.
~*~
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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.
*
The End
sck2014
It was a rainy night at the beach.
Wishing a walk but out of reach.
The sun set, the stars slept.
The moon hid and the clouds wept.
The quiet masked in crashing seas.
And a little chill rides the breeze.
Yet warmth’s felt hand in hand.
Memories tickle of toes in the sand.
The nights wish changed when we kissed.
The stars will return, tonight unmissed.
~*~
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Chachingalingering
In the USA
it’s dollars first and
sense an afterthought.
~
Sensational
The golden hour calls
warmly glowing, beckoning
all who will listen
~
Painter’s Block
My porch awaits paint,
mind awaits motivation,
body weighs on chair.
~*~
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I watched the sun rise,
with big sleepy eyes,
while I wait for the day to begin.
There’s a chill in the air,
but warmth’s always there,
from a heart that lies within.
Soon I will see,
what love’s meant to be,
with a simple touch of your skin.
Thoughts start to flow,
on paper they grow,
my lips form a grin.
Thinking of you,
and for me what you do,
today I’m sure to win.
~*~
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Today I’m lost and can’t find my way.
I look toward the sky to guide the day.
The sky was blue; I shared a smile.
Still, I’m lost but gained a mile.
~
I look to the ground; I’ve a path to find.
The ground was hard; my steps were kind.
Yet still I wander, walking on air.
My head’s in the clouds, inward stare.
~
I look straight ahead, my path’s now known.
Each step forward is another step grown.
Journeys all end, destination’s the same.
Directions clear, be glad you came.
~*~
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Today will be different than yesterday.
Yesterday was sunny, today it’s gray.
Yesterday was warm with skies of blue.
Today is rainy and there’s nothing to do.
~
Oh, I’ve projects o’many, my list is long.
The radio blasts yet another old song.
With pencil in hand my mind goes astray.
I’ll scribble on paper things I don’t say.
~
Today will be different, I’ve changes to make.
Yesterday was wasted, but I did buy a rake.
Yesterday’s gone, its memory will wane.
Today is here and I’ve a future to gain.
~
I’ve done some bad, but mostly good deeds.
Now I’ve all the things that one really needs.
And for love, joy, health and youth I’m glad.
I scribble today: three out of four ain’t bad.
~*~
SCK050625
Whilst all the young may have youth,
not all the youthful young.
Youth’s not measured by our age,
or the passions we engage.
~
It’s not about time at all,
or being big or being small.
It’s not a question of maturity,
rock star travel or annuity.
~
It’s the way we feel and perceive,
of life’s fascinations to conceive,
hopes, dreams and wishes to believe,
it’s how we love and how we grieve.
~
A youthful heart’s quick to mend,
quick to receive, give and lend.
Wonders abound in youthful eyes,
birds soar higher in bluer skies.
`
Yet youth is stolen by the fiendish lie,
That getting older is preparing to die.
`
Sck030215
*
Some hearts warm, some cold,
yet all share a bloody thirst.
Circulating both love and hate,
who’s to shout or shoot first?
.
This darkness of man held in a hand,
yet the voice has never killed.
Though orders cried for more to die,
by others brave and skilled.
.
Organs strewn and heads hewn,
the victors’ lust begins.
Checks cashed then all gets smashed,
the big brass always wins
.
Mothers cry and babies die,
someone wins a pin.
The degree to which this hell’s risen,
is all an unforgiveable sin.
.
Some hearts warm and some are cold,
why can’t we try to neutralize?
Let’s build on our commonality,
returning joy to our children’s eyes.
~*~
sck032416
~
Full moon’s high in my window pane,
a sleepless night yet again.
I think of what that old moon’s seen,
and the billions of days in-between.
.
Billions of stories it could share.
But few like grandma’s can compare.
Her life began long, long ago.
Raised in places few ever know.
.
In forests, jungles and never-ending plains,
there were exotic cities and quiet country lanes.
Naturalist nurtured traversing the globe,
her parents explorers and professors in robes.
.
She too attended their university,
majoring, of course, in anthropology.
She graduated at the very top of her class.
Then returning to a high mountain pass.
.
A place where dear friends made, one nevermore,
new will be made though not as before.
For the sisterly love they both did share,
her dowry passed from generations with care.
.
Their rug was presented for the mutual esteem,
more cherished than a simple weaving would seem.
With sheep twists dyed and hands knotting all day,
life’s artful history’s made to give, barter or pray.
.
That winter spent mourning by choice and terrain.
Gram then ventured east with the new spring rain.
Her path soon ended on a long Pacific beach,
her life of the past now far out of reach.
.
She then called upon as never before.
She volunteered proudly as a nurse in the war.
Through years of blood, pain and tears she served,
refusing all the medals and honors deserved.
.
Though her true love was found slumped on a cot,
they soon returned home, where time was forgot.
Gramps got better and a new family sown.
their many shared scars were never to be shown.
.
Her old rug was placed by hearth and chest,
each full of stories though not all are best.
It’s a place we’d sit to hear grandma recall,
sometimes a place to do nothing at all.
.
So I tip-toed downstairs since sleep no option,
I’ll rest on that rug where dreams are begun.
It’s where secrets are shared and magic seen,
then a place for relaxing time in-between.
.
Once sewn as a bag keeping safe, precious things.
It’s been many a blanket with a picnic to bring.
It’s been a shawl in the cold and hood in the rain –
and a comfy pillow on the overnight train.
.
Adventures had in time that’s flown,
together worn from long years grown.
This rug’s grandma’s confidant and oldest friend,
soaring together their wove lives transcend.
.
Though colors now faded, ends torn and frayed,
beauty more timeless cannot be remade.
And when the winds do bellow just right,
we’re drawn up the flue and into the night.
.
Holding fast and climbing high,
we touched the stars in our moonlit sky.
We’d see twinkling lights in our town below,
then off to the hills where roads don’t go.
.
Over the wood, back to the place we all live,
where the door’s always open and love’s to give.
There blissful slumbers had snug as a bug,
whilst wrapped with a hug in grandmas old rug.
.
~*~
sck032116
rhymesalot 
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