poetry

Cherry on Top Sundries Shoppe

Every Sunday me and my Pop

Take a walk to the old sundries shop

Winter’s in boots and summer flip-flops

Anytime to the Cherry on Top

*

It’s not just a store, it’s so much more

A magic box filled with sundries galore

It’s everyone’s first and their last stop

All the time at the Cherry on Top

 *

Welcoming doors always polished bright

Welcoming all to their sundries delight

Every week is a brand new crop

Any time at the Cherry on Top

*

A place with things too many to list

Lipsticks for lips that want to be kissed

There are bouncing balls and bats that bop

All the time at the Cherry on Top

 *

Combs and brushes for hair and teeth

Halloween treats and Holiday wreaths

Baskets for bunnies with ears that flop

Any time at the Cherry on Top

 *

Row after row of this’s and that’s

There are racks for jackets, hooks for hats

Handles for brooms and buckets for mops

All the time at the Cherry on Top

 *

There’s cases packed with trinkets so bright

Batteries stacked for flashlights at night

They’ve got cards to send and cards to swap

Any time at the Cherry on Top

 *

Way at the back, there’s medicines there

Carefully mixed by people who care

They carefully measure, count and chop

All the time at the Cherry on Top

 *

Then the place – my favorite of all

It’s the lunch-counter, where I sit tall

Serving pie with whipped cream and gumdrops

Any time at the Cherry on Top

 *

They’ve cakes, cookies, turkey and roasts

My dad always gets; juice, eggs and toast

Sunday’s best at the old sundries Shoppe

I get my sunday, cherry on top

~

The End

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A Poet’s Desire

~

If I could turn my words into the finest wine

We’d sail on those balmy seas until the end of time

If I could print money on all the paper that I use

Our sky would rain confetti any time you choose

~

If my wishes granted for all that I desire

We’d spent our moonlit evenings cuddled by a fire

And if my fantasies could ever be reality

All I’d ever need is for you to be with me.

~*~

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Natures’ Poetic Puzzle

Why can’t I be a bumble bee?

Bumbling about, nectar’s free

I could hover or dash in a flash

Come home to a queen with my golden stash

 ~

I’d love to be a robin on the first day of spring

I’d soar from my nest and into the sky I’d sing

Perhaps a baby bunny, nibbling on fresh greens

I’d hop from clump to clump napping in-between

 ~

Maybe a child on their first new bike

That new sense of freedom that’s what I’d like

Until, of course, the inevitable fall

Some try again, some not at all

 ~

I want to be a billionaire

Living life without a care

A mighty oak would be grand

Or Saguaro cacti, kings of the sand

 ~

But I’m not, I’m just me

Thankful for the nature that I see

Writing of things I can’t be

Content with the puzzle of poetry

~

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Life is Trying

I got fired from my job for eating French fries.
I had some good reasons but the boss said they’re lies.
I only yelled a little and someone called the cops.
My life got put on hold but the bullshit never stops.
~
I couldn’t find work and couldn’t pay my rent.
So I slept in my car, I didn’t have a tent.
I didn’t have an address, didn’t get my mail.
I missed my court date and almost went to jail.
~
The judge gave me a choice of prison or the service.
Prison was no choice but the service made me nervous.
I made my decision, the Navy was my place.
I wasn’t truly free but had a smile on my face.
~
Things were going pretty well at least for a bit.
Then I got really drunk and caught a rash of shit.
Apparently I said too much to the girl of my dreams.
Turns out she’s a narc, cos nothing’s as it seems.
~
My career ended there and I was back out on the street.
I had to do something just so I could eat.
By chance I found a carwash whose owner’s never there.
I spoke with the manager with issues that we share.
~
I spent my days getting dirty cleaning others’ gloom.
I didn’t like the job but it paid for my room.
Then I got my GED and was ready for a change.
I enrolled in junior college but the kids all seemed strange.
~
I didn’t quite finish but I did learn to learn.
I found what we do best are for things we truly yearn.
I wanted a big house, so an architect I would be.
But I couldn’t get the money to earn that degree.
~
I settled on drafting and those two years served me well.
I finally saw a future beyond my life in hell.
Life could be no better, found love and raised a child.
The world blossomed before my eyes until it all went wild.
~
Agony drained my beautiful wife.
Her eyes closed and ended our life.
In the shadows of sorrow I wished for an end.
My long upward spiral was now a downhill trend.
~
Several years have passed and the future again looks bright.
I count my many blessings each and every night.
Time can slip away but I’ve got none left for crying.
And if to ask why it’s that I’m truly trying.

Keep the Change

Yesterday’s banked, tomorrow’s free.
Value’s relative but worth you’ll see.
Invest yourself and profits soar.
Share goodwill and you’ll get more.
~
Money’s made and money’s lost.
The time that’s spent is the cost.
There are no rain checks or returns.
The change that’s kept is what one earns.
~
Rich or poor, young or old,
forget the bull you’ve been sold.
I’m here to say, without a doubt;
love is what this life’s about.

~*~
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Cuckoos Clock

Hands rise

Weights fall

Chimes sing

Birds see

Cuckoos all

`

Keys twist

Springs wind

Gears mesh

Spindles turn

Hands unkind

`

Travel on

Sunny face

Divided lines

Hide numbers

Perpetual race

`

Hands fall

Weights rise

Chimes strike

Birds die

Cuckoo’s wise

`

Keys open

Spring trap

Hours Chime

Birds sing

Hands clap

`

Travel off

Years shock

Number’s turn

Time winds

Cuckoos clock

~

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Over the Rainbow

Good morning to my brethren, our time has begun.
Let’s don our garb; share a toast and all have some fun.
It’s finally St. Paddy’s day, cheers to one and all.
Our heritage’s expansive, though our part may be small.
~
Diaspora may dilute our tasty brews of green,
the potency of the day now not clearly seen.
But snakes can’t writhe when we happily parade.
And a festival it is and never will it fade.
~
From Pagan and Druid to the trinity of leaf,
a saint named Patrick triumphed over grief.
His plight heroic and his resilience reinforced,
a feast deserved, though now locally sourced.
~
With homage to our forebears, together we shall stand.
Today I’ll wear my green and gladly shake your hand.
Our faith in worldly friendship unites, dare to be bold.
Good luck to all and may you find your pot of gold.

~*~
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Distractable

I woke before the sun.
To have my morning fun.
But I couldn’t see my pad.
And my memory’s really bad.
~
I waited for the light.
To free me from the night.
But my pencil disappeared.
And my memory is as feared.
~
I found a piece of chalk.
But then I saw a hawk.
I forgot the task at hand.
I’m sure it would be grand.
~
I took a step outside.
The hawk flew off to hide.
A squirrel then ran past.
Man, are those guys fast!
~
The chalk now is dust.
My morning’s now a bust.
The sun’s now getting high.
And I now wonder why.

~*~
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Seasonal Opinions

Springtime beckons to one and all;
life’s beginning, unlike the fall.
Evening’s crisp and tomorrow shines,
blooms hide the naked lines.
~
The air is fresh with skies of blue;
warmth thaws the winters’ view.
Days growing longer on a smiling face,
sunset walks set the pace.
~
Summer’s next, its appeal clear,
but cool it’s only one fourth the year.
Spring is best I must confess,
a shared opinion’s my seasoned guess.

~*~
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Everyday Holiday

With Valentine’s Day now over,
it’s time to think of clover.
The reds have left the room,
now’s time for greens to bloom.
~
Soon Saint Paddy will have their say.
And everyone’s Irish for that one day.
We’ll all feel lucky and have great fun.
Our joy will be shared, all as one.
~
Like the four seasons the clover has four leaves.
And luck too will change as one believes.
While some things are real, some we choose to see.
And like a Valentine nothing’s ever free.
~
The winter soon will end, spring’s almost here.
Summer and autumn will complete our year.
Though another year older we’re a bit more wise.
Think every day a holiday but without the lies.
~
Share a toast with someone new.
Pick a flower for a special few.
And show your love to all your friends.
Then our holidays will have no ends.

~*~
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Inept

The world has changed while we slept.
The changes swift when once crept.
Boundaries crossed and overstepped.
A sea of red this world’s been swept.
~
Some have saved, some have prepped,
some have learned and others pepped,
some laughed while others wept,
the choice is freedom or precept.
~
With every end comes incept.
Those unbroken, will is kept.
Off the cliff we’ve now leapt.
Do we soar or blindly accept?

~*~
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My Hamper

It’s not just a bin for dirty clothes.

It’s a place to hide things where no one goes.

My favorite place for hide and seek.

No one ever dares to take a peek.

~

I could stay in there for a week,

But that’s too long not to speak.

And if I never change my clothes,

My hamper never fills, the pile never grows.

~

My hamper can be a chest for treasure.

With extra socks just for good measure.

Hampers are never quite big enough.

Always too small for all of your stuff.

~

The bigger the hamper the less room they take.

Fill it right up and room you’ll make.

Some hampers are big, some are small.

Some are just piles, some not there at all.

~

Some might have handles, liners or lids.

Some come with gadgets to keep out kids.

Hampers never hamper or get in the way.

They’re used for something each and every day.

~

Mostly an eyesore, mostly unseen.

Hidden in bedrooms, bathrooms or in-between.

They can be baskets or made of wood.

Plastic or metal but a bag’s just as good.

~

Hampers are magic – things disappear.

Then surprise, something old will be there.

A best friend to have on clean-up day.

They help to decide what can and can’t stay.

~

They can be luggage when away from home.

The smaller they get the further you roam.

Sometime my hamper is what I long to see,

A familiar moonlit shadow that keeps me company.

~

My hamper can be a rocket ship,

There’s always space for a lengthy trip.

Or submarine to explore the sea,

It can be anything; it’s up to me.

~

Some hampers have wheels for delicate dears.

Though not much help on dark cellar stairs.

They can be a target or a catcher’s mitt.

Or a moldy archive for clothes that don’t fit.

~

Sometime it sits lonely, quiet as a mouse.

Sometime screaming loudly – stinking up the house.

My companion always since I was very small.

The stories it could tell, we really had a ball.

~

If you’re sad or a little mad, I’ll share a secret trick.

Visit your trusty hamper and give it a little kick.

My hamper and I put on shows; I hope you all will come.

I sing and dance; make up tunes, my hamper’s the drum.

~

Sometimes hampers break, a leaning twisted thing,

Thrown away with no regard to all the joy they bring.

Replaced by a new one with very lofty goals.

Someday we might be friends when it gets some holes.

~

Whether sparse or cramped you need not have a fear,

The voids will always fill when imagination’s there.

Oh – I could wax poetically until the end of time.

But hampers full, its laundry day, time to end this rhyme.

~*~

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WAKE UP!

I woke up this morning. WOW!
Realizing then that when is now.
Plans were made, now they’re done.
Twenty plus years, most were fun.
~
Knowledge, experience, often joy,
the world of art was my toy.
Objects of yore floated my way.
Yes, no or maybe is all that I’d say.
~
The good stuff was mine to freely explore.
I’d do my magic and ask for more.
All was good then a new owner came.
AI is here and nothing’s the same.
~
Most often it’s wrong, sometimes it lies.
It can’t see age or brush strokes in eyes.
Partial signatures’ will blow its mind.
So, no dollars there for it to find.
~
It only recalls and cannot deduce.
The language is wrong and always obtuse.
Those not knowing think it’s a no-brainer.
But people who do need no disclaimer.

~*~
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Morning Triku #178B ~ Change

Cool

A warm winter day,
snows melting, Spring’s on the way.
Good or bad, let’s play.
~

Lukish

Work’s a place to go;
when you can’t afford better,
or work is your life.
~

Heated

When left in the dark,
Most people will light matches.
Then it all burns down.

~*~
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