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

The End       sck081514

Hamper

It’s not just a bin for dirty clothes.

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

My favorite place for hide and seek.

No one ever dares to take a peak.

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 is 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 imaginations there.

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

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

sck081914dft

Lessons

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The more costly the watch the freer the time

The louder the song the looser the rhyme

Turn on the light half the world’s dark

Smell the gas we see with a spark

Life in a bubble called atmosphere

Poking holes without a care

Drink deep from fragile stemmed glass

Candlelit dreams with time to pass

To guess and be wrong a zero gain bet

The higher the proof the more wrong we get

To prove the proof a wasted equation

Pens against bombs can never be won

Words in the air unheard over fuss

Numbers on paper not to discuss

Lessons of life shared by all; never stand, never fall

Never swim, never sink, never thirst, never drink

Always bright much unseen, blind to details in-between

Never laugh, never weep, never dive unless it’s deep

Never leap in the melting caps ice

A lesson we can never learn twice

The End

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Questions

Which came first?

The egg or the hen, children or men,

now or then, the poet or the pen?

What comes last?

The future or the past, rising high or sinking fast,

a little fizzle or mighty blast, a crumpled sketch or final cast?

What is the end?

Goodbye to a cherished friend, a straight path or twist and bend,

a love note always meant to send, a dark void to descend

or love, joy and happiness to share and to lend?

These questions are the same for all but our answers will depend.

The End or Beginning

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Cloudy Ceiling

Dirty windows rattle overhead.

Broken switch won’t turn off dread.

A flower cart sleeps with gray canopy.

Blue hides beyond infinity.

`

Tiny world, walls surround.

Door jambs swell, I am bound.

The smaller my cube the more I pick.

Yet droplets spill without a lick.

`

Hunger consumes wasted words.

Cupboards cluttered with thirsty birds.

Procrastination wears heavy on my floor.

Stained and crumpled dreams clutter more.

`

Showers will come. The well will fill.

Current flows once still.

Walls disappear. Windows clear.

The beyond invites, if I dare.

`

The End

`

Sck081714

Choices

Colors abound, many unseen

Warm, cold and in between

Good, neutral or just plain mean

Perfectly flat or ultra-high sheen

 

Blackness paints the hue of night

Shades of gray fill the light

Morning comes all is bright

Gaze the sun all is white

 

Breathe deep, share the haste

Air fresh or full of waste

Seas of warmth or frigid ice

Hairs of decision some with lice

 

A spectrum of options everyday

Wheels and dials all have their say

Black or white, shades of gray

But choose we must somehow, some way.

 

The End

Sck081514

Two to One

Too few natives, too many a chief

Too few police, too many a thief

Too much sun, too little rain

Too much tan, too little grain

 

Too few balls, too many sports

Too many yachts, too few ports

Too few hearths, too many homes

Too much warmth under too few domes

 

Too many shakes, too few hugs

Too little trust, too many bugs

Too little love, too much hate

Too little planning, too much fate

 

Too much running, too little soul

Too much waste, too small a hole

Too many pages, too few to conserve

Too many titles too few deserve

 

Too many thinkers, too little thought

Too many lies, too little truth sought

Too much war, too little gain

Too little peace, too much pain

 

Too many arms, too few fists

Too few battles won to list

Too little time, too much to lose

Two choices remain – which one do you choose?

 

 

The End                                          sck081314

Seasons

Spring

Life blossoms shedding care

Day’s grow longer, nights dear

Not too hot, not too cold

Perfect time, young or old


Summer

Always warm, always fun

Life outside in the sun

Day’s long, grass grows tall

Night’s breeze welcome by all


Autumn

Full of color, golden bed

On the ground, leaves shed

Getting shorter, day’s fair

Night’s crisp, chill in the air


Winter

World of white, weather bold

Day’s short, nights long and cold

Holidays, many friends

Bittersweet when it ends

Bad Vacation

Forbidden Pool2

Vacation’s soon and I can’t wait.

On the calendar mark the date.

Planning and dreaming all long year

Soon our vacation will be here.

*

I  started to pack weeks before.

A few clothes and toys galore.

I need a lot for our long stay.

But mom repacks it anyway.

*

Alarm didn’t work, taxi was late.

With seconds left we made the gate.

Sat in the plane with no fresh air.

Waiting for bad weather to clear.

*

Hours wasted then off we fly.

Wings wobble, we bounce in gray sky.

Black night rain, runway wet and slick.

Vacation starts, we all get sick.

*

We landed late our luggage not there.

Just full of clothes, I didn’t care.

Late night taxi cost us double,

Big tip needed for his trouble.

*

Get to our rooms, sun starts to rise.

Daylight’s wasted with closed eyes.

Day one of vacation’s now done,

Hope the next six will be more fun.

*

But first a shower then some rest.

Than out for breakfast that’ll be best,

Eggs and juice, toast with warm butter.

Opened the door our hearts flutter.

*

Toilets broke, no shower at all.

A sign on door said tub down hall.

Beds were unmade, hot water cool.

Mom’s mad, dad joked about the pool.

*

We went to the lobby to protest.

Stood in the line with all the rest.

The man at the desk did all he could.

Some of the guests didn’t treat him good.

*

Threw down his pen, could take no more.

Grunting and shouting ran for the door.

“Hotel closed” he said running out.

Leaving us stranded, all in doubt.

*

Where would we go, where would we stay?

Yet another bad vacation day.

We found a place, it wasn’t cheap.

But we needed a place to sleep.

*

Cramped and dark but at least clean.

The tiniest bathroom I’d ever seen.

Just two beds, no TV at all.

One small window looked at a wall.

*

Settling in to rest our eyes.

Then off to lunch in clear blue skies.

But halfway there it starts to rain.

My jackets gone, left on the plane.

*

We ran fast to a place nearby.

Sitting soaked on stools too high.

Fish only menu, not for me.

Hours passed drinking pop, refills free.

*

Bellies bloated, day spent.

The sun came out and down it went.

Saw a movie we saw before.

Back to our rooms, locked the door.

*

Much the same the rest of the week.

Sun came out once, we caught a peek.

Went to the beach, waters to cold.

A bad vacation getting old.

*

Good news came later  that week.

Luggage found but in Chesapeake.

Put back on  plane, soon to leave there.

They’ll be back late, we won’t be here.

*

Trip soon over saw a new place.

Lots of ant bites, rash on my face.

Dad lost his watch, mom caught a bug.

Stuffed plastic bags with things  to lug.

*

Our ride to the airport, not much fun.

Stuck in traffic in the noon day sun.

Bad vacation was had this year.

Being home soon is all I care.

*

One good part of a trip gone bad.

Is getting home and being glad.

Vacations done, better next year.

You go and have fun, I’ll stay here.

*

The End

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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 never 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 sleepys 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

~

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

Beach Day

SK_BeachDay_4

Tomorrow’s to be the best day.

A day of sunshine, swim and play.

Must get to sleep, morning is near.

We’ll wake early, much to prepare.

*

Eat breakfast, find my pail and rake.

Great big castles of sand we’ll make.

Pack cooler with lunch, bring a hat.

Bags for towels and this and that.

~

Morning has come, wide open eyes.

Hoping for those clear blue skies.

It must be early, sky’s still gray.

Maybe I woke on the wrong day.

*

Waited all winter, now’s in reach,

sunny day of fun at the beach.

Went back to bed, nothing to do.

Closed my eyes then the sun shined through.

~

Jumped out of bed, day’s second chance.

Brush my teeth and put on short pants.

Ran downstairs for breakfast and more,

a surprise friend waits at my door.

*

We all got packed into the car.

Hoping the drive won’t be too far.

Wheels turn, were almost there.

Windows open, I smell the sea air.

~

Pull in the lot, our fun begins.

Unpack the car, pull out the bins.

We carry the bags, two for each.

Umbrellas up, blanket on beach.

*

Cooler wheels stuck in the sand.

Dad asked me to lend him a hand.

We’re all set up, time to explore.

There’s much to do at the seashore.

~

We hurry down to take our dips.

First toes then knees, up to hips.

The water’s cold, we jumped back out.

To thick towels we run and shout.

*

My fingers wrinkle, lips turn blue.

The sunshine’s warming me and you.

Sand’s sticking to my wet swimsuit.

Mom gets lunch; sandwich, drink and fruit.

~

Our feast is done, time to play ball.

Huffing and puffing, shared by all.

We blew it up then threw it high.

Caught by the wind, kept by the sky.

*

Grab our shovels, pile the sand.

Moats and towers, kings of this land.

Then waves came in with a crash.

Hours to build, gone in a splash.

SK_BeachDay_6

Now we’ll find some big new sea shells.

Some are flat some shaped like bells.

Some you hear the sea in your ear.

Some will have things living in there.

~

Sifting for treasure in the sands.

Time slipping through our small wet hands.

We keep the best in a small sack.

To be explored when we get back.

*

Now let’s try the water again.

First you go then I’ll jump right in.

Dive and swim, watch seaweed float by.

Then the sun sank low in the sky.

~

We all go home, skin pink, eyes red.

Take a cool bath then off to bed.

Going to sleep dreaming of more,

a day at the beach is best – I’ m sure!

*

The End

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Swing Band

~

While riding today on my swing,

Heard a song, started to sing.

Beatles click and chirping bird,

An outside song, inside not heard.

*

In the wood wind blows through the trees.

Back-up came from buzzing bees.

The babbling brook played the rhythm.

Over smooth stones the waters strum.

*

Keeping the beat atop a log,

Bass was played by a croaking frog.

It’s nature’s band with me to sing.

Soaring high on my backyard swing.

~*~

sck092114

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

Waking Up

~

Waking up’s the best time of day.

What will I wear, what will I play?

It’s time to think of things to do.

First find my pants and missing shoe.

~

Wipe from my eyes the sleeps last trace.

I’ll brush my teeth, wash hands and face.

My bed’s made, teddy’s on pillow,

But one last hug before I go.

~

To the kitchen, mom will be there,

Making breakfast for us to share.

We chat about things to be done,

Some of it work, some of it fun.

~

Finish dressing put dreams away.

It’s time to start a brand new day.

That’s why waking up is the best.

But can’t do that without your rest.

~

The End

*

Sck092114

Ben to Sea

DSCN7227

I am Ben and I’m off to sea,

ships ahoy and aye, aye matey.

I’ll sail all the oceans blue,

or maybe just a chosen few.

*

Pack my coat and hat for my head.

Bring a blanket for my new bed.

Teddy must stay with all my toys.

Sailors don’t need them, just small boys.

*

I’ll have no school or boring chores.

Just climbing rigging, manning oars.

I’ll tie knots and tell sea tales –

of pirates treasure, storms and whales.

*

I’ll sleep at sunset, rise at dawn.

Then swab the decks not mow the lawn.

I’ll eat ships biscuit and dried peas.

But hold the weevils if you please.

*

I’ll make new friends, captain and crew.

I’ll polish the brass just like new.

I’ll travel to faraway lands.

See new faces, shake lots of hands.

*

I’ll grow muscles and learn to swim,

never a splash over the rim.

I’ll grow a beard and get a tan.

Mom won’t know her new little man.

*

I’ll write her name on my sea chest.

Then she’ll know I love her best.

I’ll miss my cat, sister and dad.

I hope leaving won’t make them sad.

*

But I’ll return with gifts for all.

Dads will be big and sister’s small.

Jewels for mom, fish for my cat.

Gramps will get a new sailors hat.

*

Now mom’s calling, bedtime is near.

My journey starts, nothing to fear.

My tub is full, ships wait for me.

Always too short, my trips to the sea.

*

I rub and scrub and have some fun.

Until mom says my bath is done.

Voyage over, out goes the light.

Snug in my bunk I’ll say goodnight.

*

The End

~

Sck090214

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/472790

Wheels

~

I like wheels – that’s what I like.

Cars or trucks or a motor bike,

wheels make me smile and grin.

Some wheels spin in wind on a pin.

~

I wish I had wheels on my feet.

Then I can zoom down the street.

Up the ramp and flying high,

wheeling through the open sky.

~

I wish I had wheels on my chair.

I could get things way over there.

I could scoot in my stocking feet.

Or reach things high standing on seat.

~

Wheels go round and round in my head.

I wish I had wheels on my bed.

Then I can drive to all my dreams.

Win all the races, hear crowd screams.

~

In the garage, my wheels parked there.

Soon I’ll be out, wind in my hair.

First kick tires, adjust the seat.

Polish the chrome isn’t she sweet.

~

Check the mirror so I can see,

everything – way behind me.

Yes – riding fast is what I like.

On all three wheels of my trike.

~*~

The End

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