story

The Blob

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I was out to lunch this early fall,

with my sweetheart, disturbed by a call.

Tried not to answer, boss wouldn’t wait.

“Go to the harbor”, he yelled, “before it’s too late”.

Duty calls, I sped to the pier,

swerved through traffic as fast as I dare.

Screeched to a halt at the dock by the bay,

the boat’s motors revved then underway.

Holding on tight I asked what’s the fuss?

The skipper pointed up at the blob over us.

It was big and gray, no particular form,

battered and tattered like a dingy in a storm

It hung from balloons, one at each end,

letting air out slowly to descend.

It kissed the calm harbor with hardly a swell.

A slit appeared then a putrid smell.

Followed by a ladder of rope dropped to the sea,

then an old head popped out “Ahoy thar matey.”

We climbed aboard the blob that fell from the sky.

Inside appeared to be a ship with no sails but masts high.

A portal to the past or future, it wasn’t clear.

My eyes wide open, couldn’t fathom what’s near.

Bos’n whistle blowing, ships bell ringing,

Captain’s on deck, old sailors singing.

Adrift in time for many a year,

brass shone bright, decks scrubbed bare.

Beards grown long, spirits grown weak,

searching endlessly for the end they seek

I asked many questions and he of I.

“How did you come to fall from the clear blue sky?”

He shrugged and answered “balloons in the sun.”

He asked how the war went; I said “you won”

Pleased by the news, great joy was abound.

The captain and crew, spirits were found.

We told him our location, name and job.

He told us the story of his great flying blob.

“I built her to survey the rogue enemy.

Launched in the spring, eighteen sixty-three.

But she rose too quickly and at too fast a pace.

Caught in a current and thrust into space.

She’s wrapped in layers of thick blubber.

Fin of spruce to serve as rudder.

A ship out of water floating in space,

propelled by methane made from our waste.

And in her belly the mighty tree grew;

wood for repairs, air for the crew.

Trimmed to perfection, nurtured with care,

the trees demise is all that we fear.”

“The tree is the living when all else seems dead.

Greens for the birds then eggs we are fed.

Twigs feed the fires for heat and our light,

the roots of survival the engine of flight.”

The captain paused for word from the mate.

A decision to make before it’s too late.

The blubber was oozing in the midday sunlight,

absorbing seawater, soon too heavy for flight.

He called out the order to make all lines taut.

Bid us farewell and shared one last thought.

“No matter how far our souls may roam –

the journeys not over until we are home.”

The blob sailed off high in the sky –

then disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The captain and crew homeward at last,

seeing the future, choosing and the past.

The End

Sck092914

Swap Meet

DSCN7253

*

We’re off to the swap meet today.

Dad says its work, I say its play.

Mom thinks it’s all a bunch of junk.

Who needs an old cast iron skunk?

~

Every year since I was two.

Seen the toes of many a shoe.

In my wagon with squeaky wheel,

once pulled string from an old fly reel.

~

Saw a ship of wood, bone and hair.

Dad got nervous, said don’t go there!

Great memories of dad and me.

I wish that mom would come and see.

~

Up before dawn, first at the gate.

If you’re not first, well than you’re late.

I think that second’s also OK.

Don’t follow, go the other way.

~

A laugh a push a yawn and sneeze.

New spring pollen made someone wheeze.

We’re squashed on the fence right up front.

Soon we’ll start a new treasure hunt.

~

The gate opens, I think we won.

I don’t care; I’m here to have fun.

We see faces we’ve seen before.

But the new ones are a lot more.

~

Soon the sun will rise in the sky.

Down the rows with treasures stacked high.

A day of fun, ready to learn,

Something new at every turn.

~

We pass the women in her shawl.

Sits alone, sells nothing at all.

Walking past, I’d wave and say hi.

But never did I catch her eye.

~

But now I’m ten, no chaperon.

Maybe she smiled because I’m grown.

She waved me over to come right in.

Glad to see her never seen grin.

~

I gazed into lots of old stuff,

even the best looked kind of rough.

She told me stories of each thing,

corner chair and ancient nose ring.

~

“I rarely sell my things of old.

They can’t be enjoyed when they’re sold,

loan things to friends once in a while,

like you” she said with a big smile.

~

“I’ve watched you pass since you were small.

On your dads’ shoulders, eight feet tall.

I’ve seen you smile and watched you grow.

Each time passing you’d say hello.

~

Walking past, eyes open wide.

You never dared to come inside.

Talking to strangers is unwise.

If I scare you, I apologize.”

~

She gave me a book that’s quite small,

not too many pages at all.

The book kept dreams lost in your head,

while you were sleeping in your bed.

~

She opened the book to page three.

Then whispered some secrets to me.

“Dreams are wishes stuck in your head.

They only come out when in bed.

~

Sleeping soundly, eyes shut tight,

mind wondering all through the night.

When you wake to start a new day,

write down those dreams before you play.

~

Follow your heart wherever it goes.

Record your trip in lovely prose.

Don’t stop writing until you’re done.

It’s never work when it’s all fun.

~

First open the book carefully.

Than close your eyes and wait to see,

all your dreams will come back to you.

But it might take a week or two.

~

Just be patient, don’t ever fret.

All things good you never forget.

I need not tell you anymore,

complete instructions on page four.”

~

She found a box, it fit just right.

I couldn’t wait to sleep that night.

Tied it up with ribbon and bow.

She gave me hug, told me to go.

~

It’s been a long winter since then.

Yes I’ve used up many a pen.

I wake each morning at sunrise.

Wipe the night’s sleepy’s from my eyes

~

Mom saw me writing early one day.

She asked to see, what could I say?

Together we both read out loud.

We laughed and hugged, she said she’s proud.

~

Now up after dawn, we’re not late.

Family’s first, treasure can wait.

Another year, there’s much to see,

at the swap meet; mom dad and me.

~

I hope to see my new old friend,

I’ll share my news with happy end.

I tried hard and my wish came true.

Now mom comes to the swap meet too!

*

The End

~

sck100914

Available at:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/470879

Egg Waits

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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Bountiful Blossoms Blooming

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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Left Behind

Lost in a wandering state of mind,
returning to memories I thought left behind.
A campground awaits from decades of yore,
There’s a lake nearby and nature galore.

Summers there filled with family and friends,
as the specter of youth unknowingly ends.
The journey’s now short to a time long past.
My cabin soon appears while the sun fades fast.

The sky was clear, blues deepened to black.
The stars shone bright, they welcomed me back.
I relaxed on the porch and sipped iced tea,
my friends due tomorrow the night was for me.

With waning moon the damp mist rose,
crickets serenaded, eyes started to close.
Blissful sensations then the start of dreams,
when startled was I by familiar screams.

Dolly, Dolly, Dolly! was all she ever said,
her childhood taunts now flooding my head.
She’s the ghostly remains of horrors we’d share.
The truth is haunting when better a nightmare.

She would scratch at the screen above my bed.
I’d shriek and shiver and cower with dread.
Mornings would come, I’d report of my fright,
“that little girl’s ghost came to take me last night”.

My brothers would tease and mom consoled,
dad says they’re figments of tales I’ve been told.
But when evenings cool and crescent moon high,
dense fog rose and that child would cry.

Dolly, dolly, dolly is all she would say,
Her bony hand summoned and pointed the way.
Never dared I answer her mournful request.
Silently I’d wait, ignoring my guest.

It’s been many years since last we met.
Time I’ve tried hard, but to never forget.
Now I’ve matured and conscience will decide.
Am I to seek or again shall I hide?

I know not what of this phantoms despair.
Yet together there’s grief we seemingly share.
Her woe is death while mine’s the living.
Each is assured though neither forgiving.

Our paths have crossed, all have an end.
My choice is made by this spirited friend.
With eyes open wide follow I must,
forsaking not, that lost child’s trust.

I rose and leaned forward, held out my hand.
Our fate’s to obey and to command.
We dashed through the field and into the woods.
A moment imagined of pleasant childhoods.

Each step echoes with brittle twig snap.
Till the shadows of trees soon overlap.
To guide my way mere slivers of light,
pursuing my phantom into the night.

Thicket and bramble claw at my skin,
bleeding the courage from deep within.
The worn paths end at fresh fallen leaf,
this forest beyond, beyond my belief.

Spirits roam free where the living don’t tread.
My friend had returned to her life of the dead.
I wished again to hide safe behind closed eyes,
trading this vision for dreams of blue skies.

The girl then pointed at boulders stacked high,
interwoven with brush to hide from the eye.
All layers of shadow, grays deepened to black,
foretelling the depth of crevice and crack.

Her hazy glow grew brighter, eyes more intense,
repeated cries for dolly now making sense.
She’s lost a dear friend and I’m chosen to find.
To abandon now this child was beyond unkind.

Exited are we, our quest’s nearly done.
‘Twas a test of persistence, both surely won.
My mind’s now a flutter, heart beating proud,
grasping in darkness through thick thorny shroud.

Our search going well till that last step was taken,
the ground then vanished, I was tumbled and shaken.
I awoke sometime later to whispers, mumbles and cries.
My new friend stood close as I opened my eyes.

I saw Dolly held tightly and a bustle nearby.
Mourners had grouped where a still body lie.
A lifeless figure with a familiar shape and size.
The live too are familiar, all saying goodbyes.

The little girl thanked me for my many good deeds.
As slowly she faded having found what she needs.
I begged to be taken for I’ve been truly kind.
When last she said “You need first find needs left behind.”

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Sck021616

Bird Brains

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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Easter’s Egging

~*~

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

Spring’s Returning

Thanks to all my many a friend.
My heart and mind’s on the mend.
The road behind bumpy and long,
twists and turns, some wrong.
~
Paths ahead are better viewed;
time’s taught life’s skewed.
All that’s known is there’s usually doubt.
But the ups and downs average out.
~
Like suns and moons we all rise and set.
And with changing seasons we freeze or sweat.
Grounding’s found in what’s always there,
the love of friends with time we share.

~*~
SCK030519

Springling

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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Fiscal New Year

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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My Christmas Eve

The day was frigid with snow piles high;
reindeer would never ever try to fly.
I hoped I wasn’t missed by Santa’s speeding sleigh.
Who can be called to postpone Christmas day?
~
I looked out the window at snow all day.
It was a day too cold to go outside and play.
Stores were closed and phone lines were down.
Street lights were flickering all over town.
~
Dad read some books and we played with blocks.
Mom knitted dad new Christmas knee-socks.
Our oven was warm so I sat close in my chair.
I was waiting for cookies for us all to share.
~
Our Christmas Eve had now just begun.
But supper was first before more fun.
The radio played softly out in the hall.
Eve, our shepherd chewed on her ball.
~
While sipping cocoa, I got foam on my nose.
Dad told a joke about a nose that glows.
Mom stacked some presents, but just a few.
She put Grandma’s aside, I had two.
~
We all went to bed with our flashlights ready.
I got tucked in and snuggled with teddy.
I couldn’t sleep thinking of all the snow.
And how Santa could see where he should go.
~
But when he gets here, he’d need a rest.
A warm comfy chair would be the best.
Maybe more cookies will help him to sleep.
So I slipped out of bed without a peep.
~
I went down to the kitchen on tippy toe.
The night lights flickered from the wind and snow.
The hallway was dark, it seemed longer than before.
The handle looked higher on the old kitchen door.
~
With each step a creak that sounded like “nooo…”
Each step I take I thought I shouldn’t go.
But go I must for old Santa’s sake.
Even Santa must need a break.
~

I’m sure he has other places to go.
How he does it I’ll never know.
But I’m glad to lend him a helping hand.
So he can have a rest that wasn’t planned.
~
Before I knew it the handle was near.
Reaching up I turned it without fear.
I opened the door and to my surprise,
Eve stayed asleep and didn’t rise.
~
I stepped softly past her moonlit bed,
then over to the cupboard just ahead.
I smelled the cookies hiding up there,
too high to reach with just a chair.
~
I felt all around in the dark of night,
looking for the stool with a height just right.
One more step and my stool was found.
I stubbed my toe but made no sound.
~
Eve stayed asleep on her warm cozy bed.
I quietly limped to the goodies ahead.
I climbed up on the stool so I could see,
then reached for the cookies for Santa and me.
~
The night-light went out and I couldn’t go far,
my hand was stuck in that cookie jar.
But with a wiggle and jiggle and lots of stress,
I freed my hand and with not much mess.
~
I put the jar back up high where it goes.
I closed the lid tight so no one knows.
Then I was frozen in that one scary spot,
doing something I should have not.
~
The floor seemed far and I felt small.
Slowly I sat, afraid I would fall.
Then Eve’s wet nose nudged my back,
a welcome touch when all was black.
~
We both snuggled in Eve’s warm, cozy bed,
her big drooling mouth rested on my head.
I woke up wet but toasty warm.
I was happy we survived the storm.
~

On the window sill our old cat lay.
She’s the first to see a bright new day.
She ate the crumbs I left on the floor.
Then back to her sill when there was no more.
~
I gave Eve a hug and thanks for last night;
she kept me safe when there was no light.
My cookies were crumbled all over Eve’s bed.
Though meant for Santa, now Eve’s instead.
~
She gobbled her snack and left no trace.
And when she was done she licked my face.
Then mom rushed in, glad I’m all right.
I told her about my plan for last night.
~
She wasn’t pleased, that I could tell.
She gave me a hug when I thought she’d yell.
Dad soon came in scratching his head.
He asked us why we were all in Eve’s bed.
~
Mom told him the story of my planned surprise.
Dad listed the reasons why my plan wasn’t wise.
I said I was sorry and from now on I’ll be good.
And I’ll sleep with Eve every night as I should.
~
Mom and Dad said later on we’ll talk.
Let’s first stand up and we’ll take a walk.
I followed them quietly with Eve by my side.
We got to the living room and I almost cried.
~
Santa had come and saved Christmas day.
But the presents can wait, Eve wanted to play.
We played together and now I believe;
Christmas is best with my Christmas Eve.

~*~
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A Christmas Tail

sleepy town

Chapter 1 ~ The Beginning

All’s quite this early winter’s night.
Embers fade in the candles dancing light.
I was thinking of Christmas, many years past.
Those fond old memories now fading fast.

I recalled when our home came alive.
I was just a small girl of about five.
It was a grand old house for mom, dad and me.
Sat perched on a hill overlooking the sea.

It’s still a museum in our little town.
It was built by a General of historic renown.
Shared with his bride Martha, she had a sad life.
The General’s a hero, she a young widowed wife.

h varnum door 2

We cared for the house and gave the tours.
All year long we opened our doors.
We welcomed the guest to step back in time.
So come on in and share our rhyme.

I lay awake and tossed and turned.
Thinking of school and all I learned.
Letters and numbers and new friends,
I hope kindergarten never ends.

My thought disturbed by shapes on the wall,
a moonlit dance, shadows big and small.
It pranced to my table that’s set for tea.
There’s a seat for Teddy and Dolly plus one for me.

It climbed the chair with a dancer’s grace.
She must be a girl with a whiskered face.
Dolly left some crumbs on her plate.
When I remembered it was too late.

I Left a treat each night for a week.
I tried staying awake to catch a peek.
I’ll call her Martha, like our homes bride
But when I giggled she ran to hide.

Chapter 2 ~ New Friends

The days passed, she’d visit most nights.
She kept unseen until I turn out the lights.
She knows I’m cozy in my warm bed.
She smiles and winks, thankful she’s fed.

One night I waited, still in my chair.
Starlight warmed the chilly night air.
Eyelids dropped like the falling moon.
I hope my visitor gets here soon.

Night turned to day, feet cold on the floor.
I missed my friend but goodies no more.
The next night I brought a cookie to bed.
I woke with my new friend by my head.

Days got colder, Christmas was near.
I looked forward to the snacks we share.
Each passing night our friendship grows.
We chat and laugh, I scratch her nose.

h 3

Thanksgiving’s past, Santa’s on his way.
The tree goes up, brighter each day.
We’re happy to welcome all our new guests,
while I wore my new colonial dress.

I tell them of the homes long past,
Of all that’s lived here, my family last.
I tell them of their history.
But never a word of Martha and me.

On the last day of school before the break,
we celebrated with carols and cake.
We shared cards and hugs then on our way.
We’re off to the bus and our long holiday.

Glad to be home, much to be done.
Baking and wrapping with mom will be fun.
I think Christmas is the best time of year.
There’s lots of visits from friends far and near.

Chapter 3 ~ Good and Bad

tree 4

It’s not just gifts that makes Christmas best.
It’s all the excitement, no time for rest.
One snowy day mom and I went to town.
Main Street’s so merry, never a frown.

When we returned from our last minute shop,
we saw a truck with a light on top.
A man in a hardhat talked with my dad.
They both spoke quietly and looked very sad.

My parents whispered, thought I didn’t hear.
Something’s was broken too much to repair.
Said we’re leaving, where they don’t know.
I loved our home and didn’t want to go.

I gave the last tour on that very sad day.
We finished our cocoa with little to say.
Mom read aloud then kissed me goodnight.
Dad tucked me in, turned out the light.

I lay sobbing at the loss of our house.
No new friends, no Martha the mouse.
I then had a plan and ran for my bank.
Shook out the coins and my little heart sank.

Martha came close, she knew I was sad.
I forgot the snacks but she wasn’t mad.
We counted my pennies in moonlight,
then crept downstairs later that night.

We tucked my bank under the tree.
It’s for our old house from Martha and me.
But one last thing and then back to bed,
a snack for Martha and a pat on her head.

My dad woke me early that Christmas day.
I knew he was sad, he smiled anyway.
We met mom in the hall, headed downstairs.
We all acted happy while holding back tears.

Chapter 4 ~ New Beginnings

The cookies were gone, Santa was here.
Beneath the tree, present are there.
But shocked to see something I’d never seen.
There are stacks of coins, sleeping mice in between.

They ate Santa’s cookies then took a nap.
All snuggled together in the Christmas wrap.
Sleeping soundly until mom screams.
Then all were awakened from their dreams.

Martha stood out front and winked at me.
She waved me over to come and see.
The piles of treasure they found last night.
That was lost under the floorboards out of sight.

The Generals treasure, his coins of gold.
There’s enough to fix our homes splendor of old.
Martha saved our house and Christmas too.
She helped write this rhyme to share with you.

mouse 5

From all of us here at our house of fun,
we’re glad to have shared our time as one,
We wish you the all best this holiday.
And may all your days be just your way.

The End

Steve Kittell 120114

The Plump Rump Present Dump

There is an old hippy that lives at the North Pole.
He chugs from his mug and puffs on his bowl.
His mug of cider is both warm and sweet.
His bowl of tobacco is his once a week treat.
~
Mama makes brownies to keep hubby plump.
This task is made easy as he sits on his rump.
The elves do the work most of the year,
until Santa is called to guide his reindeer.
~
He then flies the globe in the dark of night.
And he’s only one chance to get it all right.
The clock is ticking with no hour hand.
Quickly he soars over cities, oceans and sand.
~
A long list he keeps so no one is missed.
He then gobbles up cookies and sometimes is kissed.
Then kids everywhere wake to presents galore.
Then Santa will rest for another year more.

~*~
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Chasing Spirits

It was up to the attic for decorations to find.

But halfway there it just slipped my mind.

I’ve got cards to send, I made a list.

But it’s too late now, another year missed.

~

There are presents to get and beautifully wrap.

But I’ll give cash and save on the scrap.

I’ll need some food, so a trip to the store.

Or we can get pizza delivered to our door.

~

I’ll need clean towels for this year’s guest.

Or they can bring some that they like best.

And of course a Christmas tree, how could I forget.

But there’s always more so I won’t fret.

~

My house is mess and needs to be swept.

But it got a little late so to bed I crept.

Now I lay pondering how my time’s gone astray.

I think my Christmas spirit’s gone on holiday.

~*~
SCK122018

Virtual Mistletoe

It’s time for another Christmas poem,
cos it’s that time of year.
It’s to be filled with good will,
love and holiday cheer.
*
I could write about Santa,
with his busy little elves,
maybe an ode to their toys,
now cluttering my shelves.
*
I can get sappy for a tree,
our little spire of light,
I could rhyme about nothing,
as I do every night.
*
My purpose was clear,
at the start of this poem.
Blessings received I was to emote,
but that’d be a tome.
*
So now I’ll just end with good will to send.
Happy holidays to all, to all a good friend.
May your new year be one to transcend.
And a kiss to some, but that’ll depend.

~*~
SCK122118

Figmented

In a little town not far from here,
there lived a star, a puppeteer.
She entertained children near and far.
While her husband played his old guitar.
~
The puppets danced and the kids all giggled.
The guitarist sang and everyone wiggled.
But behind the show’s curtain of green,
the puppeteer performs, always unseen.
~
But she’s not sad, she’s quite content,
the show’s always fun and it pays the rent.
Their home life is great with two cats and a dog.
And in a pond nearby they had a pet frog.
~
Their children, now grown and moved far away,
but they all get together for Christmas day.
The tree lit up bright and gifts piled high.
They await the sunrise in the cold winter sky.
~
First up’s the grandkids, it’s time to explore.
Next was the dog that sleeps by the door.
The children were silent peaking at the gifts.
Each on lookout in five minute shifts.
~
Tape’s gently pulled and corners peeled back,
they had to work fast to get through the stack.
The children were careful to not make a mess,
because if caught, next year there’d be less.
~
It didn’t take long for them to realize,
the presents were fake and the pets were spies.
The children panicked and ran back to their beds,
to dream once more of dolls, blocks and sleds.
~
But the parents sat waiting at the top of the stairs.
The kids now caught broke down in tears.
They ruined Christmas and the parents were mad.
The grandparents were disappointed and that was sad.
~
A lecture was given while breakfast they ate.
Grandma’s lesson was good things are worth the wait.
And that things are not always as they appear,
you can take it from her, she’s a puppeteer.
~
Breakfast was finished at a leisurely pace.
Anticipation beamed from everyone’s face.
Then a puppet appeared dressed as Santa Claus,
who passed out presents to much applause.

~*~
SCK022321

A Gift of Sixty-Four

Fancy wrap can’t hide from my eyes,

A gift that’s familiar in shape and size.

It’s the present that I adore.

They’re the toy that’s never a bore.

*

They’re a box of possibilities,

a forest full of Christmas trees.

A blanket of snow and garlands bright,

with a flicker of lights in the night.

*

They’re singing birdies just for me,

or a sailing ship on a stormy sea.

They’re autumn play and a summer breeze,

the colors of spring and buzzing bees.

*

With this one gift I’ll need no-more.

It’s a box of sixty-four!

There are colors for sad and more for glad.

They’re all perfect and none are bad.

*

What endless choices to be found.

But what is the color of sound?

What is the color of a kiss?

I’ll someday find those colors amiss.

*

They’re jewels in a treasure chest.

Something shared with a special guest.

We draw and print or color books,

while snuggled in our secret nooks.

*

I’m glad they float, though labels’ lost.

Nothing left to be peeled and tossed.

Then guides are gone for shades unknown.

But I’ll know them all, when I’m grown.

*

My cat swats greens under my bed.

My dog’s favorite to eat is red.

We all roll fast and giggle for more.

When they’re like bearings on the floor.

*

We build rainbows to the sky.

Stacked like logs to make towers high.

We lose the ones we like the best.

Then have extras of all the rest.

*

They’re a gift that’s always welcome.

They’re used up quick or saved by some.

Look what Harold did with just one.

My sixty-four are much more fun.

*

Stored neat in a box with a lid that flips,

and a hole on the back to sharpen tips.

Enough to share with all my friends,

we can draw a line that never ends.

*

Though mostly used sparingly,

tucked safe in a drawer, just for me.

They somehow seem to go away.

And just in time for Christmas day.

*

The End

SCK100815

Under Wraps

The holiday’s upon us, still there’s much to do.
Decorations aren’t yet finished, more presents needed too.
Christmas cards must be sent; first I’ll need a list.
I’ve mistletoe to hang, hoping to be kissed.
~
I’ll skip the wreath this year, unless I find one cheap.
Maybe I’ll get plastic, something I can keep.
There’ll be no fancy paper, tied with ribbons and bows.
The wrap doesn’t matter; it’s the thought that truly shows.
~
The weather is quite nice, I think today’s the day.
I’ll finish all my shopping; make more bills I can’t pay.
Oh! And yes I need a tree, how could I forget.
I’d feel really silly and I’d lose another bet.

~*~
SCK121221

The Gift That Keeps Giving

(rated R)

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! That’s all I gotta say

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! It’s almost Christmas day

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! Yea – Santa’s on his way

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! I hope he doesn’t stay

*

Christmas last year was our first as newlyweds

Our little home smoky with burnt gingerbreads

Rooms festively strewn and splattered with glitter

The kind of memories that’ll be around forever

 *

His reindeer chomped topiary, displayed in my backyard

Now I have to lie and say it’s really avant-garde

Rudolph took a shining to a bright-eyed decoration

Now he’s singing high notes from electrical castration

*

I also saw Santa smooch my wife under mistletoe

Not a friendly peck but a kiss, deep and slow

I’m ready for him this year, cameras everywhere

I’ll edit-out tomorrow, things I shouldn’t share

*

My lovely mate now fast asleep, safe in our cozy room

Windows shuttered tight, door wedged with a broom

While plump little Nicki slumbers soundly in her cradle

It’s now time for me to prepare, egg-nog, cups and ladle

 *

Plus a special surprise for Santa, it’s sure to be a hoot

I long to see his rosy cheeks when slapped with a paternity suit

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! I’ve one last thing to say

Ho, Ho, Ho to all and have a very merry holiday

 *

Sck122414

Could Have Been

It was the dawn of the new,
where a seaside village grew.
Novice and native confused.
From each, the other felt used.

Forests deep and oceans wide,
The future unknown, nowhere to hide.
Then hovels cluster to brave surrounds.
Yet perils beckon with all new sounds.

Ships multiply within the decade.
Promises broken to many made.
Seeds planted and families grown,
with the first of the babes now on their own.

One such named Sam, out to fetch wood,
kept up with his mom, best he could.
Yet he dallied about and lost his way,
the first of many, an enlightened day.

Surrounded by darkness, Sam froze, afraid,
awaiting death from his error made.
The silence broken by crackling leaf,
eaten or captured will soon end his grief.

There, in the moonlight to Sam’s surprise,
a scared young native shone in his eyes.
Sam huddled close to his new friend Fawn.
They shared the warmth to the new day’s dawn.

Their words spoken with only a glance,
parting dear friends made by chance.
Fawn pointed east, Sam’s path home.
He turned to thank her, yet she did roam.

Sam soon safe, years soon pass.
Herds dwindle, slaughtered in mass.
Danger dies when dangers’ burn,
for the dream of freedom, we all yearn.

With prey all around for the attack,
it’s the hardy to fore and lesser to back.
Muskets in hand they hunt the beast.
The fallen the joy of the autumnal feast.

Alone in the wood, sun’s fading fast,
Sam’s in a daze lost in the past.
He sat and pondered without any fear,
recalling Fawn, his long-lost dear.

Thanks to her, Sam’s here today,
assisting her ruin to make his way.
Then silence broken by crackling leaf,
there stood his Fawn, ending his grief.

Sam rose in the moonlight that shone in her eyes.
Her pain carved deep by the years of her cries.
The pair ventured north, as far as they could.
Their legend ends there in the peace of the wood.

Sck113015

Spooky House

At the end of my street, quite near,

Sits the source of all that I fear.

Now a horror, once a jewel,

I run fast on my way to school.

`

Looms alone behind a high wall,

Watching me pass, the house sees all.

Hidden by trees most of the year.

But when fall comes so does my fear.

`

Autumn leaves drop, crunch under feet.

Out pops the house that haunts our street.

Halloween comes, chill in the air.

But trick-or-treaters won’t go there.

`

Lights never on, no cars in drive.

Shades always down, nothing alive.

I’ve heard stories, sounds in the night.

Of the house that causes our fright.

`

The shutters bang and hinges creak.

But no one dare to take a peek.

Many a ball lost over the gate.

Remember the score, game can wait!

`

Spooky shadows in the moonlight.

Ghostly shapes in the dark of night.

The vines on the porch creep and crawl.

Been scaring kids since mom was small.

`

Bats in attic, mice in the shed,

Phantoms inside or so it’s said.

Some say it’s empty, some say not.

Either way I’m worried a lot.

`

Off to bed one dreary fall night.

A bad time to turn off the light.

Mom tucks me in, we chat awhile.

She kissed my cheek, left with a smile.

`

My sleepy smile soon fades to fear.

When spooky house dreams soon appear.

I close my eyes and try to sleep,

Ran out of numbers counting sheep.

`

Outside shadows all a quiver.

Howling winds making me shiver.

I peeked from under my blanket,

The darkness said no sunrise yet.

`

I turned on the light to just wait.

For morning to come, that’ll be great.

Awoke to good news, called my friend.

Our sleepless nights where soon to end.

`

Someone bought the spooky old place.

Hopes to restore its former grace.

House got painted, bushes cut down.

What a great home, what a great town.

`

Windows fixed fresh grass on the ground,

Sunshine and flowers all around.

New families in, kids galore.

And I’m not afraid anymore.

`

We play in the yard, ride the swing.

We make up rhymes for us to sing.

Now my favorite place to be.

But once I thought the house spooky.

`

The End

Sck091914