poetry

My Pencil

My pencil in hand – mind set free
Erasing the chains binding me
Safe in my world of poetry
A better friend there cannot be

No rhyme or reason there’s to flee
No shackles of society
No meter of conformity
No question of sincerity

No judge, jury or guilty plea
No door can stop my slender key
I’ll wander through infinity
Another side of life’s journey

Draw lines that know no boundary
Return with words for all to see
Arrange them well – create beauty
Then thank my little piece of tree

~

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I Saw Today

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(Memories of birthdays past)

* 

I saw today my baby’s start

 Opened her eyes and stole my heart

 ~

 I saw today her smile at me

 We brought her home, safe as can be

 ~

 I saw today her tucked in bed

 Gently leaned over to kiss her head

 ~

 I saw today my baby weep

 Snuggled her gently back to sleep

 ~

 I saw today my baby eat

 Covered from head to little feet

 ~

 I saw today my baby sit

 Then fell over in a giggle fit

~ 

 I saw today my baby crawl

 Tried to escape down the hall

 ~

 I saw today my baby stand

 Holding my finger in her hand

 ~

 I saw today my baby walk

 Then soon after began to talk

 ~

 I saw today my baby run

 Laughing and screaming, having  fun

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 I saw today her surprise art

 The wall and it shall never part

 ~

 I saw today her bruise her knee

 Climbed too high and fell from the tree

 ~

 I saw today her play tattoo

 0n her belly, red, green and blue

~

I saw today her find a cat

Opened the door and that was that

~ 

I saw today her ride a bike

Though too young to be off  her  trike

 ~

I saw today she learned to swim

Tub’s full, splashes over the rim

 ~

I saw today her play a song

Tiny violin with bow so long

~ 

I saw today my baby grew

She had to shop for something new

 ~

I saw today her off to school

Not holding hands, acting cool

 ~

I saw today she was funny

On the coach napping with bunny

 ~

I saw today her go to the dance

Just for fun and not for romance

~ 

I saw today her drive a car

I hope she doesn’t go too far

 ~

I saw today her graduate

Then off to college, she’ll do great

~

I saw today my baby grown

Off to the city, on her own

 ~

I saw today her new career

Making art for people to wear

 ~

I saw today she’s just like us

The best of both, with little fuss

*

The Beginning

~*~

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Today’s Poem

Today’s poem’s a mixed bag of thought,
overwhelmed with input this poet fraught.
Barraged by beginnings, none’s caught,
words forged honesty’s wrought.

Hours fly, seconds’ drag, a minute sought.
Dreaming recollections, time’s bought.
Feelings unchanged, thinking’s naught.
Patience perseveres, love has taught.

~*~
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The Fragrance of Fickle Follies

Where jester’s king and knights a daze,
sunsets fade to a mushroom haze.
In castles walled the future’s stalled,
the heat of the moment is to forever scald.
~
When dollars found is sense lost,
we’re all to share the eventual cost.
For horizons lured never reached,
minds obstructed always breached.
~
Yet an open mind like and open gate,
frees the fears, ignorance and hate.
And whilst moats are filled from the waste within,
their funny stench is where their ends begin.

~*~
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Contrasts

I need a new color or maybe a sound.
I need something to get my head off the ground.
High in the clouds is where I should be.
Soaring with eagles; majestic and free.
~
Exploring a world where peace is the norm.
A place where everyone survives the storm.
A place where kids all laugh and parents sing.
Where old folks still giggle on the backyard swing.
~
We’ve no need for bombs, guns or war.
We’ll all have love, can’t hurt, can cure.
Oh, What a place this world could be.
If only that eagle, were you and me.

~*~
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Guns, Gods & Greed

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Sowing a hideous seed, nourished with gas dug from our past.

Shoot first ask questions last. But hurry they’re going fast.

Guns, gods and greed

Suckled breast corporate laced, plastic faces our world graced.

We share with all what we waste from our piles made of haste.

Winner takes all, just make the call. Man is big the earth small.

Enemies don’t grieve, faith does not deceive.

Much to achieve, just believe.

Guns, gods and greed

The seed grown, seeds of their own, on the wind they’ll be blown.

 Or from our hands they’ll be thrown all to cast the final stone.

Spreading death, division and despair – when thrice comes to bear.

The end may be near, a warning shot we’ll never hear.

But never fear.

Guns, gods and greed

Raise our arms to the skies, pop goes the fireflies.

Screams drown out the cries.

Close your eyes daylight dies, truth within, outside lies.

We laugh at others strife. Define who’s to be a wife.

Skewer the peace with our knife.

But soon we’ll all be saved – from life.

Guns, gods and greed

The  End

Steve Kittell 2014

Sandbox

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Shades of blue peeking through gray

Spring is here and outside we’ll play

First thing I’ll do is hug my tree

It’s waited alone all winter for me

~

In my backyard under that tree

Is my most favorite place to be

Swing’s on one side, sandbox the other

And a house above for my big brother

~

I’ll fly for a while on my swing

And listen to the birdies sing

Then to the place I love the best

Where I can build castles or take a rest

~

My sandbox is this magic place

A shipwreck beach or planet in space

It’s a summer toy box in my backyard

And cleaning up is never hard

~

Though last summer we made a big mess

I played in the mud in my best dress

We found a small puddle, my friend and I

The last thing needed for our mud pie

~

First scooped with shovels, most was spilled

Thought of a bucket, then soon filled

A couple of pails and puddle’s dry

But the sand’s to soupy for our mud pie

~

So we dug in the yard to get more sand

The sand was brown, squishy in hand

But it was fun, mushy and wet

A sandbox time we’ll never forget

~

Then my brother jumped in with a splash

Mud flew high, our clothes where trash

Then mom came out, we thought she’s mad

Till she hosed us down, now we’re all glad

~*~

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Stung by the Firefly

Summer days of long ago

Carefree times we all know

Pollen tickles our little nose

Grass tickles our little toes

~

Morning dew make footsteps glisten

The birdies make us stop and listen

Morning knocks on the old screen door

Weekend swims with friends at the shore

~

Afternoons spent being lazy

Evening sunsets being crazy

Chasing fireflies into the night

Kept in a jar for a magic nightlight

~

Then off to bed to dream of tomorrow

Waking with screams of death and sorrow

My firefly’s magic all died overnight

Now haunted am I by the sting of their light

~*~

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Shades of Gray

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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It’s All Pluckin’ Good

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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Shunned for life

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

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Summer To Fall

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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A Stroke of Time

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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Morning Triku #166 ~ We Are

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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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Fed-Up Back-Up

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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