
The day’s begun and the air quite still.
The heat is building to test our will.
Temperature’s high for this first of July.
August’s soon and I hope we don’t fry.
~*~
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The day’s begun and the air quite still.
The heat is building to test our will.
Temperature’s high for this first of July.
August’s soon and I hope we don’t fry.
~*~
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There’s little more pleasant than a summer breeze,
cooling the senses, sure to please.
Bliss is felt across our skin.
The sun is falling. Let the starlight begin.
~*~
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A simple flower, delicate and strong,
its life has meaning though not for long.
Enduring the sun, wind and rain,
it’s simple of purpose, a day again.
Nurturing beauty for all to share,
flowers all, if simply we dare.
~*~
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The wait is long, the reward sublime.
In search I am for the perfect time.
My heart is beating and lungs are full.
My mind is racing, I feel the pull.
~
I’m tired but wired, I can’t sleep a wink.
I think I’m unsure of whatever I think.
Thoughts of the past reflect on the now.
Tomorrow’s soon and the why, what and how.
~
I sat and I pondered; what am I to do?
A question confounded by where, when and who.
Then in an instant the answer was clear.
A fool am I, the time now is here.
~*~
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~
Life creates the lines we wear.
They’re traced upon the face we share.
Smiles turned up spread everyday joy.
Pouty faces think hearts a toy.
~
Lips arced down build no bridges.
Crinkled brows scaled ridges.
Eyes bright glow through the night,
eyes down dwelt shade their light.
~
Enthusiasm shines with a spark.
Heartache shines in the dark.
Time wrinkles the more we press.
Smooth is felt, not a guess.
~
Directions clear when maps unfold.
Routes we’ve drawn, our story told.
Hellos leave more to see.
Loves image is good bye free.
~
I wish for the lines of long ago.
I wish to watch that of another grow.
A fateful glance we’re sure to know,
little things make the big picture show.
~*~
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Awaiting a shells fateful date,
eggs alone beat in wait.
When a pair scrambles to meet,
futures fertile swim to greet.
~
Pairs joined to each a share,
new is made over easy with care.
Hatched a recipe for pure delight,
sliding from heat, home plate’s in sight.
~
Yet time fragile, forking’s no joke,
bad luck befallen bound by yoke.
Getting fried never rehearsed.
And the wait answers which came first.
~*~
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I have a plan to save mankind.
I’ve just a few things left to find.
First is a place we all can hide.
It’ll need big windows to feel outside.
~
Next is food, but we can’t be too picky,
just nothing too spicy, gooey or sticky.
There’s coffee, for sure with sugar and cream,
then a really big bed for all to dream.
~
We’ll need some music so bring guitars.
Smoking’s optional but no cigars.
There’s no heavy drinking or hard drugs.
No need for violence or unruly thugs.
~
There will be no jail or a court.
So bring no weapons of any sort.
We’ll all need to promise to get along.
It sounds pretty easy, what can go wrong.
~
You’ll never find a happier place.
It’ll fill up fast so reserve your space.
Now one last thing before I take leave;
it’s best not come if you can’t believe.
~*~
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We work by day and dream at night.
In between we live and fight.
We fight for peace and for love.
We fight to live, we push and shove.
Sometimes we give, sometime we break.
We sometime take more than we make.
We fight for much and for less.
We fight for time to fight off stress.
We’ve fought for us and for them.
We fought for merit and to condemn.
We fight the ills that lurk within.
We fight our demons so we may win.
Yet battles won are never done.
And battles lost are never one.
But still we fight until at last we die.
We’ll fight for breath to at last ask why.
~*~
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When values are charismatic
and thought becomes plutocratic,
participation is devoid.
Then hardship is systematic.
~
When this world seems dramatic
and our head’s full of static,
anger’s then employed.
And hate becomes pragmatic.
~
When life, it seems erratic
and joy becomes sporadic,
worry fills the void.
Then the gloom is traumatic.
~
When time itself is problematic
and the future’s enigmatic,
trust is then destroyed.
And solitude becomes symptomatic.
~
But when we are diplomatic
and compassion’s automatic,
violence we avoid.
Then love is democratic.
~*~
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Where bumble bees sing to morning blooms,
sunshine fills sleepy rooms.
Little birds chirp to ring in the day.
The town folk thrive and children play.
~
Evening’s all spent cozy and warm;
everyone huddles at word of a storm.
With a common goal of tranquility,
their smiles all share the harmony.
~
Freedom reigns and peace assured,
caring for all, we’re all adored.
And though this place is yet to be found,
in dreams we meet when feet leave the ground.
~*~
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Around the bend from the church on main,
lies a quaint little street, called Skipper’s Lane.
T’was on this path a young lad dwelled,
before the streets’ name or the lad propelled.
~
The tale goes: At the head of a cove the sandbar’s long.
The water’s choppy and the currents strong.
A young lad fished, he netted all day.
At sunset he rowed to the town up the bay.
~
He traded his catch for supplies and some cash.
He then rowed back home and buried his stash.
Years soon passed and the lad’s now a man.
The time was now to dig up an old can.
~
The cans held his savings, he’s more than a few.
The man, now called Netty, had something to do.
Netty rowed into town, to buy but not sell.
He bought a new boat with a bright shiny bell.
~
He towed the boat home not knowing how to sail.
A year’s practice behind then caught in a gale.
Netty stayed calm, his life, spent afloat.
Home was in sight when he saw a tossed boat.
~
The boat missed the inlet, now blowing out to sea.
Though Netty unsure, he could not leave them be.
Adjusting his sails Netty raced to give aid.
Soaked and battered he would not be afraid.
~
Lost memories filled young Netty’s head.
Recalling the night, he was almost dead.
The sky was black and the water cold.
The ship sat heavy, filled with gold.
~
Remembering screams and cracking wood,
the ship’s bell rang, gone childhood.
The boy hit the water and woke on the shore.
The life he once knew was no more.
~
A crashing wave broke Netty’s trance,
one second more he’d lose his chance.
He leaned on his tiller to bring his boat near.
The boats colliding mustered everyone’s fear.
~
Netty thought quickly and dropped his sheet,
then heaved his net around a cleat.
He pulled and pulled with all his might.
His biggest catch was that stormy night.
~
All returned safely before the sun rose.
Netty now a hero was gifted new clothes.
New friends were made, now one’s Netty’s wife.
Recounting his memories he bought a new life.
~
The gold recovered, Netty bought lots of land.
He built a grand home well away from the sand.
The harbor in view he watches over his fleet.
The town, now prosperous, gave Netty a street.
~*~
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I woke up early and the sky was gray.
The world’s in turmoil yet I’ve little to say.
But the birds are happy in the mulberry tree.
I can hear them laughing, maybe at me.
~
They see our world from high above,
whether gull, robin or mourning dove.
Their time alive is soaring free,
while looking down on you and me.
~
For if to fly like a bird,
we’d then flock but never herd.
We’d hatch into a nest well made,
free of worry cos no rent’s paid.
~
Just think of the places we could go.
We could fly south before the snow.
We could eat berries, bugs and worms,
pretty much anything that wiggles or squirms.
~
There’d be no alarms or jobs we hate.
We could fly to the stars our very first date.
Then glide back down to a favorite tree.
There we’d rest harmoniously.
~
But we’re not birds and that’s a shame.
Our lives are grounded and mostly tame.
But if to wish on this day that’s gray,
I’d poop on those who stand in the way.
~
So maybe my wish is not about birds.
It’s about people I think are turds,
those who’ve prevented a world of peace,
for you and me and a gaggle of geese.
~*~
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~*~
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.
~*~
Sck030916
http://www.childrens-stories.net/featured-childrens-story/featured-childrens-story.htm
Baby’s first spring blooms with joy.
There’s grass for sitting and nature’s their toy.
There are leaves to touch and bugs to see,
flowers to smell and the buzz of a bee.
~
The sun is warm and the sky is blue.
A breeze tickles toes where once a shoe.
Daring they get and start to crawl.
They chase the cat chasing the ball.
~
Mom gets it first and giggles they share.
She tosses the ball high in the air.
Little eyes get rubbed, its naptime soon.
Then there’s lunch on a spring afternoon.
~*~
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I’m going to write a poem so everyone feels good.
I’ll make it bright and cheery as I know I should.
Peculiar times upon us, isolation’s now the norm.
But spring is out in force; soon we’ll all feel warm.
~
Trees are soon to blossom, grass is soon to green.
Flowers will share their colors, bees will tend their queen.
Nature shares her secrets, life does rise again.
Birds are already singing, though we’ve a bigger brain.
~
The future has no guide; we live from day to day.
Optimism is our key to find a better way.
Life will throw some curves and everyone has a pitch.
Some may catch a virus, some will find their niche.
~
Love is in our heart, compassion’s in our soul.
Thoughts fill our heads, they make us feel whole.
The earth will stay in motion; the sun will rise and fall.
Time’s now to show our mettle and share with one and all.
~*~
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Ice moon full, clouds float by.
Snow aglow, one with our sky.
Numberless air, frozen in wait.
Thaws to feel by degree or date.
~*~
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The mistletoe’s gone for another year.
Alarm bells ringing bring no cheer.
The party’s over, Monday’s arrived,
the holiday’s done, at least I survived.
~
Back to normal I must now go.
Work I must to pay what I owe.
Bills are coming and debts surely grew.
Saving’s diminished; it’s time to make new.
~
Coffee is drunk but the mood is sober.
I’ve interest to pay, maybe done by October.
A resolution I’ve made to end this spree.
But Valentines is coming and gifts there will be.
~
So returns I’ll exchange as sales are waiting,
There are deals galore, no time for debating.
There’s much to do to start this New Year.
Hopefully by spring my plan will be clear.
~*~
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Now my tail’s in my head.
Fingers crossed, prizes shed.
Eyes ate walks and talks.
Cents blind doves and hawks.
~
Feet tripped, miles earned.
Mind fogged, still yearned.
Heads up, air’s free,
time finite, go see!
~*~
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Autumn’s upon us, nights grow long.
Days get shorter, our love grows strong.
Winter’s soon and with it the gloom.
But warmth we’ll share, forever to bloom.
~*~
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Summer love leads to fall.
Autumnal changes effects all.
Leaves turn, soon to drop.
Life moves on and won’t stop.
.
Chills felt to the bone.
Warmth’s gone when alone.
Seasons cycle as they must.
Tomorrows come, we have to trust.
.
Truth felt in the heart.
Minds make lies art.
Sleep’s unknown for many a night.
Sadness fills each line I write.
.
If not loved a future is to find.
If not a poet, perhaps then blind.
Hues created we want to see.
Now the fall’s here for you and me.
~*~
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Waking up contented,
I’ve a morning that’s well scented.
The smell of autumn’s in the air.
And soon enjoyed as a pair.
~
But for now she sleeps in peace,
intertwined with cats and fleece.
But after coffee or maybe two,
I’ll wake my love to skies of blue
~
Her eyes will open and I’ll be there.
Morning smiles we’ll then share.
As we’ve done since the spring,
we’ll listen to the birdies sing.
~
We’ll chat about the future ahead,
or muse about our dreams instead.
But no matter, we always agree,
there’s no place we’d rather be.
~
Our day’s now filled with joy and bliss,
always time to hug and kiss.
Our love’s created a lifelong bond,
forever contented and beyond.
~*~
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Autumn’s now upon us, leaves soon to fall,
Halloween’s next and the witches’ ball.
Then comes Thanksgiving, turkeys best beware.
We’ll all give our thanks then devour our share.
~
But then it’s winter and snow glazes our thought.
Christmas sneaks up and we give things we bought.
New Year’s follows and we all share a toast.
Then we long for Valentines to indulge who we love most.
~
We wait in gloom for spring to see flowers sprout.
The days now growing longer, jackets now in doubt.
Summer arrives to much fanfare, hot dogs fill our guts.
We’ll bake in the noon day sun, I think that we’re all nuts.
~
Then summers shine finally dims.
We’ll wish for fall and cover limbs.
And another year now is done.
And another year’s now begun.
~
Every season is a special time.
Some have favorites and that’s no crime.
Some may feel that they all are bad.
But not the poets and for that I’m glad.
~*~
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