Cadavers

Slammed upon a chilly slab

First a poke then a jab

Next the cuts, twists and pull

Placed in  boxes stuffed full

Locked in a closet dark and cold

Then forgotten until they’re old

Tossed from the boxes into green bags

Discarded with the garbage, bottles and rags

Thrown on a truck and driven to a boat

Holes are slashed so not to float

With procession of gulls bags dumped in the bay

The end of the cadaver’s very bad day

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Cookies

Cookies, cookies the perfect treat.
Eat them in shoes, socks or bare feet.
I’ve eaten them in my underwear.
You can eat them nude, if you dare.

Sometime just one, sometimes more,
Fresh from the oven or the store.
I prefer fresh, chocolate goo.
But from a box or bag will do.

There’s no time of the day or night,
When eating cookies isn’t right.
When times are good a cookie’s great.
When times are bad I might need eight.

In the kitchen with mom to bake,
The perfect gift cookies will make.
Cookies soon done and into the car,
Then to grandma’s house, it isn’t far.

That smell of cookies is taunting me,
Under the foil where I can’t see.
But I must wait, we’re almost there.
With bunches of cookies for us to share.

We pull in the drive, rush to the bell.
Running so fast I almost fell.
But I held tight to that plate in hand.
I don’t like my cookies mixed with sand.

My big pile of goodness for us to eat,
Stacked high on a plate, nice and neat.
Mom opens the door, I run right in.
Hugs for all, let the party begin!

The girls dance about in pretty new dresses.
The boys run and shout and make big messes.
When we’re done yelling, screaming and raving,
It’s time to quench our cookie craving.

Then back to the car and homeward bound.
Soon dozing off to a breezy sound.
While thinking of cookies I start to dream,
About a world of cookies and cream.

Cookies, cookies the anytime treat.
Eat them at home or the backseat.
You can eat them everywhere,
On the ground or high in the air.

Cookie rockets go to the stars.
Cookies for wheels on our cars.
I dream of a world of cookie dough.
Freshly baked and ready to go.

Cookies for beds for us to sleep,
We’ll count cookies instead of sheep.
Cookies we’ll roll all over town.
We’ll get some milk to wash them down.

A non-round cookie won’t be right.
Remember the poor gingerbread’s plight.
Cookies not round we’ll call them fakes.
They can all be just biscuits or cakes.

If all cookies where round by law.
We wouldn’t have circles or arcs to draw.
The sun would be a cookie shape.
And big cookie craters on a cookiescape.

A bump in the road made my dream roll away.
I’ll dream another, another day.
Where almost home and I’m glad.
A quiet snack is never bad.

It’s getting late, my day’s almost done,
But one last thing that’s always fun.
In-between the wash, rub and scrub.
I nibble a cookie in my tub.

But I never ever eat cookies in my bed.
You’ll sleep real crumby or so it’s said.
And now it’s time to turn off the light.
Sweet dreams to all and have a goodnight.

The End

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Old News

A milestone’s coming and it’ll be soon,
decades in wait, seen many a moon.
Suns have risen and all have set.
There’ll be a last, but not there yet.
~
A half dozen here and a half dozen there,
a middle’s been found, but I don’t care.
The body’s slowing, as is the mind.
Questions answered but still more to find.
~
Thoughts now scattered as a puzzle unmade.
Borders redrawn as the memories fade.
Steps now higher as heights decline.
Trips once painful now feel fine.
~
Aggression decreases and assertiveness rules.
Passivity wanes when there’s less to lose.
Life’s still good with passion unfazed.
With a muse to love I’m daily amazed.
~
The support of all knows no ends.
Thanks to be given to family and friends.
Yes, a milestone’s coming, but it won’t be bad.
Sixty’s just a number, no need to be sad.

~*~
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A Little Proof

The forest is gone where once a home.
A people lost, now destined to roam.
Legends of old speak of their race,
though only of blurs, never a face.
~
Smaller than dwarves, bigger than fairies,
their language mistaken for frantic canaries,
they’re easily missed being so small.
A full grown adult’s barely twelve inches tall.
~
Their numbers blossomed to one hundred per tree.
Nature, their home, they could be no more free.
They chose to stay hidden, out of harm’s way.
The choice wasn’t theirs, they learned the hard way.
~
The giants invaded with axes in hand.
They chopped and cut for towns they had planned.
Centuries have passed and the invasion persists.
The Liluns survived but only few still exist.
~
They still choose to hide and that’s probably good.
As the giants don’t always do as they should.
Their wishes fulfilled at whatever the cost.
This story’s the proof of the many who’ve lost.

~*~
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A Day on the Farm

The sun’s our clock, rooster alarm.

Up to start a day on the farm.

Fresh air and sunshine all long day.

Eat our breakfast then on our way.

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I put on my boots, coat and hat.

And find a glove under the cat.

Out the door to the bunnies hutch.

They eat  pellets they don’t like much.

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My dog follows, opens the door.

Sometimes gone for hours or more.

Jumping high, trips latch with paw.

The cutest thing I ever saw.

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Next we’re off to feed the plump hens.

Gather eggs, clean muddy pig pens.

We’ll hose it down then slop the sows.

Grab our pails and milk the cows.

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Feed the mare, sleeps in the sable.

I’ll ride her soon when I’m able.

First she’s brushed then gets oats and hay.

We do all these things twice a day

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In the garden, vegetables grow.

Sprout from seeds we plant in a row.

Water well, pluck weeds in between.

Shoe away pests when they’re seen.

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When all the digging and feeding’s through.

There’s still more on a farm to do.

Pick fresh fruit for mom’s best jelly.

Yummy sweet, wiggles in my belly.

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Orange balloons float above ground.

Pumpkin pies shared all around.

Our beans are red and peas are green.

The tastiest rainbows ever seen.

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Life on the farm is so much fun.

Little to do when work is done.

Get up early, busy all day.

We eat our supper then hit the hay.

*

The End

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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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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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Symptomatic

The day was young and the coffee’s old.
The season’s new and the outside’s cold.
The inside’s warm so in I’ll stay.
I’m not feeling well this chilly day.
~
I brewed some more and drink it all.
Saving none then duty did call.
Then back to bed, or at least I thought.
I forgot what excess has often taught.
~
I tossed and turned for a little too long.
Then to the bathroom, but nothing’s wrong.
I needed a tissue for a sneeze I felt coming.
Proven right the sensation was numbing.
~
My plans now nixed, the sniffles persisted.
Medicine taken, their side-effects listed.
I’ve started to doze and none too soon.
Please wake me up before the spring moon.

~*~
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Hot and Cold Memories

We all walked to school without a care.
We stopped at the store with pennies to share.
Cats and dogs always ran free.
Trees were claimed by them and me.
~
We rode our bikes like we were all nuts.
Our hands and knees came home with cuts.
Bikes had brakes most of the time,
or slowed by sneakers covered in grime.
~
Any spot with grass was called a yard.
We swam in places with no lifeguard.
Snowballs were made no matter the cost.
We wore socks on our hands when gloves were lost.
~
We all had to fight every once in a while.
Our moms would yell but dads would smile.
Rooms were shared and sometimes beds,
smelly feet tickling their brother’s heads.
~
Then junior high came and we had to change.
Our hair grew long and our clothes got strange.
Many smoked cigarettes and other stuff.
There were lots of choices but enough was enough.
~
Childhood then ended and the troubles began.
When the problems started most of us ran.
Some now have passed; some did well,
but all fondly remembered though it was hell.

~*~
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A Slap in the Hindsight

When I was just a small boy,
perhaps seven or eight,
I didn’t want to go to bed;
I wanted to stay up late.
~
But when I’d sneak back downstairs,
for some TV and a snack,
my mom would be there waiting.
And boy I’d get a smack.
~
That seems so long ago now,
and my how things progressed.
Slaps have been reconsidered,
now more creatively addressed.
~
The mischief too has waned,
but I still stay up too late.
The TV no longer excites me,
but man the snacks are great.
~
It’s funny what’s remembered,
and how it shapes our thought.
I’ve learned many lessons well;
now glad to be often caught.
~
My mom now long since passed,
her sacrifices never ignored.
I really was a bratty kid,
but at least mom was never bored.

~*~
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Pro-Procrastination

The house is quiet and the pets at ease.
The yard awaits, says “mow me please”.
But I’ve things to think and words to rhyme,
because love comes first all of the time.
~
The grass can wait and those dishes too.
There’s much to do and hours so few.
So busy I’ll be in La-La land,
love in my heart and pencil in hand.
~
I’ll pen her poetry of love, joy and bliss,
recalling how quick was our one millionth kiss.
I’ll wax poetic and melt in her arms,
though her hotness not needed, just her charms.
~
I’ll say “I love you” in every possible way.
And I’ll say it often every single day,
but words meaningless when actions speak.
So I’ll finish this poem and start my week.

~*~
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Precious Mettle

Off to the mailbox for my monthly check,
when a crashing blow hit my neck.
I woke in a cell filled with other old guys.
We all laughed to find we’re all old spies.
~
An enemy hacked us and addresses found,
We were all then hostages held underground.
Our brains to be picked for treasure long lost,
the knowledge valuable as noted by their cost.
~
Across the hall were ladies we knew,
agents we recognized, but for a few.
A plan was hatched, arthritis be damned!
When a guard comes by they’ll be slammed.
~
We then waited and rested no need to hurry.
Naps are good and we’ve no need to worry.
The ladies then flirted with mature confidence.
The guard withered by worldly effervescence.
~
The code culled we shuffled to get free,
arm in arm in groups of three.
Footsteps heard then alarm bells rang.
Adrenaline soared and up we sprang.
~
Youth’s no match for the well-seasoned mind.
We hid in the shadows for them to find.
One by one the threats were gone.
And soon I’d be home to cut my lawn.
~
The weeds a bugger and leaves make a mess.
The grandkids expected, sorry to digress.
Now back to the story, before I forget.
We found the exit but the passage was wet.
~
Those rascals in charge too had a plan.
They’d drown us all like the cruelest hit man.
But optimists they are thinking they’d win.
As experts we’re all with the simple hairpin.
~
The water knee high and their lock we’d picked.
And soon they’d see who’d be tricked.
Gray, white and bald we glistened in the sun.
We strode out together, too old to run.
~
The culprits scrambled but soon were caught.
The lesson learned is time has taught.
And sometime silver is better than gold,
a precious reward growing old.

~*~
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The Rebirth

I think today’s Saturday but I’m not sure.
It’s just another day waiting for a cure.
I tossed and turned all through the night.
I awoke to darkness but the sky was bright.
~
My input seems to be running out.
In silence I wish to scream and shout.
Coffee’s running low and milk’s getting old.
Veggies growing limp and bread’s growing mold.
~
The toilet paper’s still in good supply.
My hands scrubbed raw so I won’t die.
The day then turned the dullest of gray.
But it doesn’t really matter, cos in we’ll stay.
~
Plans for the future now put on hold.
So inside we’ll wait until we’re told.
I’ll make some calls to those I miss.
I’ll wake my sweetheart with a kiss.
~
While trying not to get the blues,
we’ll start our day with the news.
Breakfast we’ll share with lots of love.
And we’ll thank our lucky stars above.
~
We’ll visit the world on the screen.
We’ll watch the grass turning green.
We’ll happily spend time doing chores,
hoping for a chance to get outdoors.
~
I simply can’t bear another TV show.
The cars got gas but there’s nowhere to go.
Perhaps we’ll walk, but not too far.
Or we’ll play some cards and guitar.
~
We’ll write a little and maybe draw.
I’ll tell her she’s the cutest I ever saw.
We’ll have our supper with a candle lit.
Then it’s off to bed to read for a bit.
~
We’ll reflect on these times we now live in.
Then dream of the next to soon begin;
when doors will open from our self-made tomb,
awakened all, to a new spring bloom.

~*~
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A Lonely Princess

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Where rocky cliff meets stormy sea,

a castle perched, forever be.

Where gray stone surrounds little seen sky.

‘Twas this fortress a young princess cry.

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The princess post birth, her parents delight,

treasured by day, guarded by night.

Feasting with jesters, ponies, puppets and maids,

a gaggle of servants draw bright velvet shades

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With sentry of knight to share all her dreams,

her eyes shut tight to hide her screams.

Time wasted limitless, she wished for an end.

The princess was lonely without a true friend.

..

One morning awoken by a kiss from a queen,

sleepy eyes opened to a sight seldom seen.

Golden light sparkles in diamond pane rare,

a sapphire morn burns black coal night air.

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A tasty breakfast served on tray in bed.

Downy pillows fluffed to rest her head.

The king arrived more jolly than ever,

with riddle to solve, if anyone clever.

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“What may have wings cannot fly.

Holds a heart yet cannot die.

Shaken pitch laughs off rain.

Having one a princess to gain?”

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The joyous young girl made many a guess.

The kings’ piddling patience grew less and less.

The queen and knights all had a try.

The king muttered “castle!” with a loud sigh.

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The room bemused by the riddler’s zeal.

Most unconcerned with how others feel.

A castle repeated in more pleasant a tone,

a home for a princess to call her own.

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But first a short trip outside the wall,

where grass tickles feet and trees grow tall.

There are lessons to learn from tutors wise.

There are truths to see with growing eyes.

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Now’s time a princess must prepare,

for the eventual call of a prince to be dear.

A someday king awaits his throne,

whence you shall rest upon your own.

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The princess knew the day would come,

a bartered prize as was her Mum.

No fairy tale endings for spawn of kings.

“Tis a life shackled with heavy gold rings.

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Adventure awaits, no time for self-pity,

freedom’s short locked in a stone city.

Knowledge abounds beyond heavy gates.

The princess skips past on worn ancient slates.

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Beneath a fine bonnet of satin and lace,

excitement glowed on her adolescent face.

Her velvet shoes barely touching the dirt,

a merry cyclone a-swirl in silk skirt.

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Her mentor soon waves from path by wood.

Magical flora beckons, some bad, some good.

Wonders overwhelm in green forest lush.

An ocean of emeralds painted with brush.

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With each lash a-flutter bursts a new color.

Light and shades multiply them all more.

With the thirst of a sponge she did explore,

where surprises abound when not looked for.

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A gentle breeze blew, a little leaf flew,

bright sky filled in the space anew

A ray of sunlight kissed a shiny stone.

Atop a bed of dewy leaf it rests alone.

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With a tiny tap upon its shimmering side,

the distant fates of two collide.

Surface cracking on this egg thought stone,

a heartbeat wakened with thunderous tone.

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Out popped a plump lump, beneath wings of scale.

A pat on the rump exposed its long tail.

A final stretch thrust shell shards to leaf.

And there lie a creature beyond belief.

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Warm smiles shared with a new friend.

A precious little pearl, the girl’s to defend.

The gazes shattered by a howl from the trail,

‘twas the elderly teacher, impatient and frail.

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The princess knew what had to be done.

The babe hid under her bonnet and bun.

Down the path she ran back to the gate.

Yelled to the guards “The teacher was late”

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Gates barely open she slipped through the crack,

escaping notice of the tail down her back.

Safe in her chamber they shared the night’s meal,

both sharing puckers with fresh lemon peel.

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Then swathed in plush robes, kissed on the head,

the fledgling was tucked safely under the bed.

Each night passing, more robes to conceal,

this teething tot with big teeth that’s real.

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Each day growing from the princess’s scraps,

she grew thinner, now padded with straps.

The servants grew nervous at both the sight,

one lie near weightless, one flew in the night.

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The princess’s secret though soon was known,

when her expanding friend went out alone.

The knights became dazed by armored flight,

their swords no match for the hunger of night.

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The king and queen where too nearly maimed.

Pawns, bishops and rooks where all to be blamed.

A wizard was called to tame the toddler beast.

His tenure cut short when almost a feast.

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The creature now huge, truly loved the girl.

She called her Sunshine, the princess’s Pearl.

Together they frolicked on the castle rooftop.

The king spying danger called for a stop.

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Shouting “time’s come to put childhood behind,

It’s now time to marry, I’ve someone in mind.

He’s brave, sweet, wise and kind, at least I’m told.

There’ll be time to adjust as you both grow old.”

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Escorted by king to a royal coach and four,

off to be locked behind another gilded door.

Her fate was sealed by a noble families need,

alliances grown with common regal seed.

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But with a twist, jerk and a naughty giggle,

the squiggly princess was free now to wiggle.

Breaking free, running fast, past all unaware.

She zigged and zagged toward the rooftop stair.

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Screaming loudly for her only friend Pearl,

who tried to save the much pursued girl.

A guard with a pike held Pearl on a chain.

Blocking the Sunshine’s escape of the reign.

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Seeing her friend at the top of the stair,

Pearl snapped her links then into the air.

The petrified guard fled from his post,

grabbing for Sunshine he’d surely be toast.

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The princess ran to the edge of the roof,

yelling to Pearl, she feared aloof.

The big eared beast sharply turned about,

hearing her Sunshine’s gloomy shout

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The king with guards, knights and queen,

Stormed to the roof unprepared for what’s seen.

The princess looked back, blew a kiss to her mother,

and a warm thoughtful wave to all the other.

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Then with a carefree step she disappeared.

Plunging to her sudden death, or so was feared.

The mortified lookers all lunged for the ledge.

Hoping the princess landed safe in a hedge.

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The king peeked over, not wanting to see,

when up rose his honey like a big bumble bee.

She hung from the neck of her dear friend Pearl,

now bonded for life, this dragon and girl.

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Higher she climbed with a dragons eye view,

a view to be viewed by a very small few.

Now all surveyed, now all her realm,

Sunshine’s the captain, Pearl the helm.

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Over forest and mountains, ocean and stream,

free in a world where she need not dream.

Adrift on her Pearl upon the endless sea,

Alone they now be in their realm of fantasy.

.

The king broken hearted wept in his sleep.

The queen stricken ill with never a peep.

They later agreed to bare a new heir,

whether girl or boy was not a care.

.

The next child’s fate was sure to be better,

born free of mind and trappings that clutter.

With a loving heart nurtured by family and friends,

then given the choices to choose their own ends.

.

The princess returned in time for the birth.

The kingdom was full of merriment and mirth.

The princess enchanted with a friend who flew.

And all ends happily as fairy tales all do.

*

The End

Sck121414

The Wizard of Windham

The wizard of Windham lived on the hill.
His walls of stone are standing there still.
The roof’s now long gone as is the tower,
once a symbol of the wizard’s great power.
~
His age was unknown, a millennium guessed.
The first settlers awed, but some less impressed.
The natives too could never agree.
Were his acts wizardly or wise fakery?
~
The questions delayed with new problems brewing.
The settlers flourished and the natives were stewing.
Agreements were made and boarders were mapped.
The hill was the place where both overlapped.
~
The wizard then asked to choice just one side.
The wizard then answered with a grin, big and wide.
“I’ll choose no side as the hill is my own,
each stone hand-placed, a thousand years grown.”
~
“My family, you see, arose from these grounds.
We speak and we hear all natures’ sounds.
The grasses here grow tall to tickle my feet.
And the berries are delicious because I like sweet.”
~
The chiefs convinced as he spoke of their legends.
Each then agreed it’s best to be friends.
The settlers too thought that was best.
A treaty was signed and they all now could rest.
~
Years then passed with the wizard unseen.
But his tower stood proud on its hill of green.
The settlers now settled and their families grew.
The natives moved on leaving now but a few.
~
A new generation, now triple in size,
gazed at the hill with big greedy eyes.
The treaty forgotten as was the wizard.
They planned to start building after the blizzard.
~
The long winter passed, the spring brought more rain.
That summer was scorching, then autumn again.
Builders were hired that following spring.
A fortress they’d build with a big banquet wing.
~
Wagons were loaded and the horses well fed.
The mayor woke early from his big comfy bed.
A speech he’d planned for that very day.
But storm clouds moved in and the sky turned gray.
~
His speech was canceled but the builders went ahead.
The mayor scurried home then back to bed.
Rain soon started then followed by hail.
The wagons got stuck on the wet slippery trail.
~
The work then delayed until the skies cleared.
Months soon passed, much longer than feared.
Rumors spread of the wizards return;
if magic he has come summer they’ll burn.
~
By early June the sky hinted of blue,
the trail now firm and the grass green and new.
The builders then called to make a new start.
The horses led forward pulling wagon and cart.
~
The trail narrowed at the base of the hill.
Then the horses all stopped and just stood still.
The builders got scared and ran back to town.
The mayor got fired for being a clown.
~
Some say the wizard had gotten his way.
That legend lives on to this very day.
Does the wizard still live, well nobody knows.
But his hill’s still green as the little town grows.

~*~
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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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If 2 Be

If to live a life of fantasy,
immortality bound and trouble free.
Never to be a wannabe,
desires fulfilled by decree.
What would they be, Oh what would they be?
~
To be an explorer on the open sea,
nature bound and living free,
the entire world I would see.
I’d fulfill life’s destiny.
Where would it be, where would it be?
~
An artist perhaps, filling the world with glee,
history bound and creating free,
painting for all a new reality.
Or I’ll write a song with perfect harmony.
How will it be, how will it be?
~
Maybe a billionaire on a shopping spree,
luxury bound and spending free,
rolling about with bling and scree.
Or I’d give it all away to charity.
What would it be, what would it be?
~
A philosopher would be great, solving life’s mystery,
intellectually bound and thinking free,
cleaning up mankind’s debris.
And debate all who disagree.
When will it be, when will it be?
~
But I’m not, I’m just me,
homeward bound and mostly free,
curious of complexity.
Loving and loved I guarantee.
Who could it be, who could it be, it’s you and me!

~*~
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Poetry for a Lady

Poetry for a lady with much love I give.
I’ll write the unspoken as long as I live.
Mornings for her will be a cause for glee.
For me her glowing smile I long to see.
~
We share our first coffee, no concern for the time.
We’ll talk and we’ll laugh, I’ll record it in rhyme.
Our day will proceed with only one goal,
loving each other, mind, body and soul.

~*~
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Beerly

My beer’s warm and my bed’s cold.
My wife ran off and my car’s real old.
My dog’s half dead but that’s OK,
I can’t afford to feed him anyway.
~
The kids don’t talk to me anymore.
I go to see mom and she locks the door.
So I go to see dad in the old boneyard.
I drink and I cry and I fall real hard.
~
I get so drunk I can’t even stand.
I woke up once covered in sand.
My toilet’s broke so I pee in the sink.
There’s a shed outside, that’s where I think.
~
I got no lights to turn off or on.
The landlord screams “why ain’t you gone
But don’t weep for me cos I ain’t sad.
I ain’t never had a beer’s that bad.

~*~
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Unquestionable Quest

I’m on a quest for a treasure chest.
No pirate will stand in my way.
My maps were all in order.
My journey started that day.
~
My ship was ready to sail.
The sky was blue and clear.
The breeze filled my lungs.
The time was growing near.
~
Sunset ended a beautiful day.
Then the wind began to blow.
The rain soon was drenching.
My crew all hid below.
~
I manned the helm alone.
The sails I couldn’t adjust.
Lost and tossed in darkness.
I had to better my best.
~
The night felt never-ending.
My eyes began to close.
The air grew bitterly cold.
I couldn’t feel my toes.
~
Sunrise was surely welcome.
The rain began to wane.
The crew decided to join me.
They saw I was in pain.
~
I ate a hearty breakfast.
Then they all began to clean.
My sails were all mended.
The best I’d ever seen.
~
Spirits returned to normal.
Good cheer was felt by all.
Then days dragged on forever.
Soon it would be the fall.
~

The navigator came on deck.
He had some terrible news.
Our location was unknown.
The maps shed no clues.
~
Half whispered of a mutiny.
The rest was on my side.
Surprise was on their faces.
The fear they couldn’t hide.
~
The crew grew more impatient.
Our quest should’ve been done.
The lookout then spied an island.
It glowed in the noon day sun.
~
The boats then quickly lowered.
My crew abandoned ship.
I left standing all alone.
I wished to end this trip.
~
Another month had passed.
Then a ship came into view.
I was now found safe.
But no word of my crew.
~
I was angry for their failure.
I thought I was to die.
For this quest was sure to fail.
When the crew was only I.
~
I hope a lesson learned.
That help we all will need.
And me, myself and I,
always sounds like greed.
~
My quest is not forgotten.
A new ship I will find.
A new crew will be hired.
And to them I’ll be more kind.

~*~
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Start Your Day Write

Good morning all, the day is bright.
Let’s sip our coffee then we’ll write.
The night is done, the demons at rest.
Pick up your pens, time to be best.
~
We’ll reflect upon yesterday’s past,
the good and bad that didn’t last.
Check the boxes in columns we’ve made.
And erase the X’s we hope will fade.
~
The mission begins with a feeling or word.
The march is forward, never deterred.
Ideas explode and emotions guide.
Pages fill with what others would hide.
~
The rush then over, a battle won.
Some bring tears while others fun.
Sheets bare awaken surprise.
Good morning all lets open our eyes.

~*~
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Clueless

I heard a story when I was away.
It happened last year on New Year’s Day.
A man and his wife went out for a walk.
The beach was deserted, they had a talk.
~
No one knew what the two spoke about.
But it didn’t take long for them to shout.
The women ran back and checked out in haste.
The man was gone, his existence erased.
~
The spa was closed and the police had a look.
A comb was found with a watch and a book.
The detective knew that everything’s a clue,
later that day they found a lone shoe.
~
The sun soon setting, the search had to wait.
The police returned the next day before eight.
Records were checked and fingerprints taken.
Nothing was found but the detective unshaken.
~
Seems the couple paid everything in cash.
The deputy examined all of the trash.
The book, he exclaimed, the best clue they had.
There was also the shoe but that smelled bad.
~
The watch looked expensive but not all that nice.
The comb was filthy and covered with lice.
The detective re-examined all of the clues.
The phone then rang, he hoped for good news.
~
A body washed up on the beach overnight.
By the look of his face he lost a good fight.
The detective, excited, rushed to his car.
He arrived in minutes, it wasn’t that far.
~
Although disappointed when he finally got there.
The man had a watch but he had no hair.
One thing’s for certain, he was missing a shoe.
It was a little too late but now he had two.
~
Now two crimes to solve and surely related,
there’d be no rest until the criminal’s located.
Days soon passed but nothing new discovered.
A report then arrived saying the victim was smothered.
~
The man was attacked but surely not robbed.
The deputy was called and confessed while he sobbed.
The woman in question was the deputy’s wife.
The dead guy, her lover, had come with a knife.
~
The deputy, of course, had worn a disguise.
But tans are evident in those warm, sunny skies.
His wife’s still missing but his watch returned,
it covered the place on his arm not burned.
~
The book and the comb, both common beach finds,
returned to the spa and their curious minds.
Apparently I read it but the plot was old.
The next day I heard a more chilling story told.

~*~
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