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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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Bountiful

~

Summer’s at its end, no paths leading home,

memories haunt, hunger leads wherever he does roam.

The hazy starlight setting, the sun’s ready to rise.

A frightened little orphan wipes dreams from sleepy eyes.

~

Soon the bells will ring calling all’s return.

The timid sure to flounder, the hardy always earn.

Darting through the alleys, the bay comes in view.

Ships aplenty ply the piers promising something new.

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Upon these docks seabirds feast,

sharing the waste with all other beast.

Flies swarm, rats persist and hungry dogs bark.

There are many unseen faces lurking in the dark.

~

Survivors all, as is he, sharing the spoils of a bountiful sea,

no masters’ switch or mothers’ screams when a life is free.

Two pockets and a mouth full will feed for a day.

Fancy cord or carved wood may even bring some pay.

~

Scavenging for a morsel, a meal comes in sight.

Tis crated fruits from afar, a taste of pure delight.

Brushing off the larvae and peeling rotted skin,

sweet sensations pass the lips, a smile grows within.

~

Then giggles gurgled from his blissful throat.

Till greed consumes and bellies bloat.

Euphoria swells and inhibitions subside.

The bustle begins there’s no need to hide.

~

While hunger had made his mind alert.

Gluttony now makes his body inert.

Guard lowered, feet slow to run,

this young boys’ journey’s now just begun.

~

Sailors seized the well fed thief.

Then shackled aboard to ease their grief,

a gift for the captain from his loyal crew.

A cabin boy’s needed, there’s much to do.

~

Soon underway and far from land,

the mate unlocks the orphans’ hand.

The boy then runs toward sun and air.

On deck he cries watching land disappear.

~

Formalities scant then forced to chores,

His long nights stowed behind locked doors.

They voyaged south where weather’s warm,

when the waters grew bumpy ahead of a storm.

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The captain commanded his capable crew.

And the boy was forgotten with so much to do.

The bright sun fell with the dark rising sea.

Freedom escapes when nowhere to flee.

~

The howling winds and roaring waves,

called heroes and fools to watery graves.

The skipper stood bravely at his battered helm,

barking out orders to all in his realm.

~

He called for his servant to secure a line tight.

The boy climbed too high, falling into the night.

The bosons’ pipe blew and bells rang out,

muffling the sounds of the orphans last shout.

~

The boy sank fast with his final breath.

When suddenly snatched by the jaws of death.

In a cage of tooth and tongue for seat,

waiting was he to be something’s treat

~

Swimming as fast as ever she could,

the serpent’s intensions were soon understood.

Diving through darkness then leaps in the air.

A long journey had, till the weather was fair.

~

He awoke on a beach, the serpent close by.

Being baked in hot sand to be eaten and die.

Before he could run the beast came near.

She patted his head and said “Have no fear.”

~

She gazed into his scared little eyes.

Assuring him serpent myths were lies.

“We’re not all monsters or killers you see,

though maybe a few but certainly not me.”

~

“Serpents get angry when harpoons fly their way,

or when dragged ashore for a tasty fillet.

Bounties are had that pay by the pound,

riches await when a big serpents found.”

~

The new friends chatted the rest of the day.

They shared their pasts till no more to say.

Dozing they snuggled on a bed of soft leaf,

dreaming of a life without any grief.

~

Wakened to sunshine and breakfast pre-made.

The grinning pair feasted on greens in the shade.

Then time for a swim in their private lagoon.

They frolicked together till the rising full moon.

~

Days and weeks then years soon past,

the happy young boy was growing fast.

The pair traveled the oceans and faraway lands,

their life’s serene with no demands.

~

They ate and slept and played on a whim,

till the boy grew curious of others like him.

He asked many questions, to the serpent unknown,

her boy a young man, now twice grown.

~

His name, he had none, he could recall.

He was always called boy and that was all.

The serpent, a serpent, there’s no need for a name.

The boy called her mum just the same.

~

The wise serpent knew their time couldn’t last,

The boy’s now a man and still growing fast.

Mum was ashamed of keeping the boy,

to coddle and cuddle and treat like a toy.

~

They played together, she watched him grow,

all the time knowing he’d eventually go.

A plan was hatched she couldn’t admit.

If her boy found out he’d have a fit.

~

She would swim close to shore then into the bay.

She’d crash on the beach for her boy’s big payday.

A hero he’d be and rewarded a bounty vast.

But she had to be quick for her nerve to last.

~

The day was perfect and the sky was clear.

Boy was napping when land came near.

The plan underway, Mum turned the last bend.

The town grew closer, her life soon to end.

~

Flapping her flippers as fast as she could,

splashes seen as she knew they would.

With one last thrust she lunged for the land.

The boy awakened when thrown to the sand.

~

The town folk scattered, guards quick to arrive.

None had seen a serpent alive.

Bruised and battered the boy came to.

Quickly he knew what he had to do.

~

He knew his friend would have a plan.

The boy’s time was now to be a man

Fearlessly facing his many foes,

standing with mum to shield their arrows.

~

He called for the general to make a deal.

“Spare your feasts now for many a meal.

Or a battle we will have with much to lose.

Life or death sir is for you now to choose.”

~

The general perplexed requested his king.

A long hour past, mum started to sing.

The crowds joined in and fears were eased.

The deal was sealed and all were pleased.

~

The general was spared potential bloodshed.

The serpent was spared her intelligent head.

The boy made an admiral though a scant crew,

with a fleet of just one and we all know who.

~

His beloved town prospered, called the boy Beau.

Replacing the name he didn’t know.

Beau got married, had many a young.

The eldest’s in a band with a grand mum who sung.

~

The End

~*~

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Swap Meet

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*

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.

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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.

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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

A Bad Story

A story begins when an adventure’s been had.
And for two young lads their end was bad.
They choose to skip school on a bright sunny day.
While deep in the woods the sky turned gray.
~
They veered from the path when a chipmunk ran past.
They bolted and darted but the critters too fast.
Resting beneath a lush canopy of green,
the fast moving clouds they hadn’t seen.
~
The temperature dropped as the sky turned black.
The boys had no clue of how they’d get back.
Rain fell in buckets, the pair soaked to the bone.
The howls and growls meant they weren’t alone.
~
The pair was now hungry, cold, tired and afraid.
Both very sorry for the choices they made.
Each made a promise to do as they should.
And if they survived they’d always be good.
~
Shivering all night, either could sleep.
A nightmare they lived while both counted sheep.
Through teary eyes a new dawn was seen,
and the boys now as happy as they’d ever been.
~
They rose with a burst and sang out in joy.
Then a bear was spotted and she was no toy.
The children screamed and ran off in fear.
But the bear stayed put with berries so near.
~
Each boy choose a different path, now each alone,
if ever reunited both now more grown.
The day warmed up nicely and a search was begun.
But unfortunately by sunset they’d only found one.
~
Days past and reinforcements were called in.
The lake was dragged and patience grew thin.
The boys’ chance of survival was now very slim.
Most of the town folk figured the bear had found him.
~
The police told his parents clothing was found.
And also nearby there was blood on the ground.
The boys’ mom screamed seeing his shirt.
It being torn and bloody and covered with dirt.
~
The search was called off that day at sunset.
The boy that was found was now full of regret.
Another week passed and a service was planned.
A headstone was chosen and shovels were manned.
~
The church was full with mourners from afar.
Then a ranger drove up with a boy in the car.
The boy ran in the church yelling “I’m sorry and glad”.
“I’m glad to be alive but sorry for being bad”.
~
Hugged by his parents who were both quite relieved.
He then told his story that’s hard to be believed.
Punished all summer, he was not allowed out.
The adventure was uncertain, but a story, no doubt.

The End

~*~
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In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage

Behold this welcome image.
Where a hill rises from a bay.
There a tiny sheltered village lay.
All in the shadow of Windmill Cottage.
Steady breeze most every day.
~
Sails from afar spill their goodwill.
From their nets sea treasure abound.
Farms thrive above on fertile ground.
Good fortune trickles down the hill.
Sea birds fill the air with sound.
~
Ancient timbers shade from lofty stage.
Labored grain grows upward at the season’s rate.
Winds howl, warmth’s aglow on the hill top grate.
Flour flows freely down from Windmill Cottage.
Where nature’s breath spins the wheel of a poets estate.
~
He attends happily to familiar chores.
Quarterly ledgers bulge beneath waistcoat fair.
His quarterly journey to the bankers’ lair.
His shadow alone opens Main Street doors.
Harvest moon will guide homeward the fortunate heir.
~
Dusk creeps up as day slips by.
Modest and ordered with nothing ablaze.
Must avoid the many scrupulous gaze.
In the shadows inhibitions die.
A visit with strangers, heads all a daze.
~
Journey’s end in darkness where hill meets bay.
Tufted coaches dash the posh up to their inns.
Others huddle by fire pits drinking homemade gins.
The trades of the night swap those of day.
Church bells echo, atoning for their sins.
~
Just another blurry face on the wooden shores.
Where the day’s death lingers and ships bells ring.
Taverns fill, ale flows and drunken sailors sing.
Fiddles play and jigs are had on the dirty floors.
Habitual killers all, Oh what joy they bring

~

Few will stay, most homeward bound.
Some laugh loudly while others cry.
Some will fight, some will die.
In search of peace to be found –
In the deep or endless sky.
~
Faceless comfort fills empty space.
Men with silver are sick for a day.
Boys with gold suffer years away.
Moonlit romance lingers on perfumed lace.
Then life’s anew beyond the tiny bay.
~
Sharing much common thread,
In this moment “ brothers all.
Whale lamps flicker on sooty wall
Making friends while breaking bread.
All await the Bosun’s call.
~
In a corner where shadows overlap.
The poet searches for his light,
Where the day’s brew flows all night.
Safe, for now from his hilltop trap,
Layers of darkness, out of sight.
~
Behold this most unwelcome image.
The seat no more where the poet presides.
Now in his shadow a filthy little demon hides.
Return not quenched to Windmill Cottage –
And wait again for the new moon tides?
~
Lonely candle spews depth on a lonely face.
Unseen pests sing their unwanted song,
The scent of time ticking long.
His travels must be many, all left a trace.
In the darkness our senses strong.
~
Hat brim low to hide his shame.
The poet stutters with utter surprise.
The traveler snickers, doesn’t rise.
With sideways glance he asks the poets name.
Honestly answered by the fear in his eyes.
~
When after long hesitation a hasty reply ”
“A traveler like you” was all that he said.
But after some ale the silence was dead.
Yard by yard many distant words fly.
Palettes grow when faces shade red.
~
Cider was next and followed by rum.
The traveler’s tales all told in prose.
The wetter the lips the faster it flows.
Hated by most, loved by some.
That’s how a traveler’s life often goes.

~

The poet a rather tall fellow.
The traveler a poet by name.
So many ports traveled they all looked the same.
His heart pumped blue, the poet gay and mellow.
Opposite sides of a coin, no one is to blame.
~
“With little time to hone a craft –
With a draft from an open door.
To close then return no-more.
To open then evermore – the draft.
Spirits gone, gone the craft – nevermore.”
~
What dribble do you speak my friend?
The poet inquired in disgusted tone.
“The dribble I think when thirsty and alone.”
The traveler quipped with message to send.
I’ll tell you another, that’s my own.
~
“Silent words are never heard –
The voiceless poet stuttered.
Repeated babble muttered.
His rhymes always sputtered.
More mindless words would be absurd.
~
The air he breathed was glutted.
His helm so poorly ruddered.
His shirts all heavily buttered.
From his many toasts self-uttered.
His mind so free and uncluttered.
~
His weaknesses many and unobserved.
Blinded to the Reaper’s shadow – deserved.
Soon the voiceless poet will be unheard.
Then blissful quiet on his paths wandered.
His welcome silence – forever heard.”
~
Drunken rabble roared with delight.
The poet withered belittled.
The traveler’s attention fizzled.
When laudanum’s sipped out of sight.
The poet escaped most grizzled.
~
Out of the dark into the night.
Bellowing air; cold, wet and starless.
His poisoned lips know no finesse.
His state of mind out of time – not right.
The poet’s mind wanders aimless.
~
The traveler tucked snugly in his bunk.
With help from many new joyous fan.
All loved the howls of this traveled Wild-man.
His tales make perfect sense “ drunk.
The favorite carried and the pompous ass ran.
~
Boot heals clack on cobble slick.
While stallion slumbers atop golden bed.
The poet stumbles upward with achy head.
If only to have his gilt throat-ed stick.
This shadowy path he may be found dead.
~
The wind that is my fortune is slowly killing me.
This hill of heritage too high for me to climb.
With forceful push from the hands of time.
Drawing me back to a frigid sea.
My misery oh-so great ” it is oh-so sublime.
~
Head tucked low, bottom up always slow.
Darkness wanes to purples then red.
Day is born, horrors of the night soon dead.
Hands and knees bloodied and bruised – falls of woe.
Alas the bodies of servants to guide to downy bed.
~
Winter’s behind, graven plans regress.
Fevered sleep past, shadows of death dawdle.
Summer awaits, the poet’s lessons dwindle.
His magnum opus went off to press.
Journey to Main Street, praise to guzzle.
~
Surveying high atop his magnificent mount.
The poet exclaimed “behold this welcome image”
Deceived by the bustle, not he the homage.
But a tome by a worldly traveler – no doubt.
It was “In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage”
~*~
The End

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Beach Day

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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

sck081314

The Blob

.

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

Sandbox

.

Shades of blue peeking through gray

Spring is here and outside we’ll play

First thing I’ll do is hug my tree

It’s waited alone all winter for me

~

In my backyard under that tree

Is my most favorite place to be

Swing’s on one side, sandbox the other

And a house above for my big brother

~

I’ll fly for a while on my swing

And listen to the birdies sing

Then to the place I love the best

Where I can build castles or take a rest

~

My sandbox is this magic place

A shipwreck beach or planet in space

It’s a summer toy box in my backyard

And cleaning up is never hard

~

Though last summer we made a big mess

I played in the mud in my best dress

We found a small puddle, my friend and I

The last thing needed for our mud pie

~

First scooped with shovels, most was spilled

Thought of a bucket, then soon filled

A couple of pails and puddle’s dry

But the sand’s to soupy for our mud pie

~

So we dug in the yard to get more sand

The sand was brown, squishy in hand

But it was fun, mushy and wet

A sandbox time we’ll never forget

~

Then my brother jumped in with a splash

Mud flew high, our clothes where trash

Then mom came out, we thought she’s mad

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

~*~

Sck080315

Dream

~

Sailed the seas on a pirate ship

Skied mountains, almost broke my hip

Boxed the champ, he bit his lip

A chocolate cow found, took a sip

.

Touched the clouds from my balloon

Wrestled a bear and a baboon

I flew in a rocket to the moon

Then got hungry, be back soon

.

Dove to the bottom of oceans deep

Then up in a plane, took a leap

While floating down went back to sleep

My dreams are fun, no need to weep

.

Opened eyes, wiped sleep from brow

Looked all around but saw no cow

I know it’s time to wake up now

I’ll dream again, someway, somehow

~*~

sck050416

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

sck081314

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/472691

Jen & Ben

Jen and Ben, they’re a silly pair,

they are twins with bright red hair.

One wears it short the other long.

One’s always right, one’s never wrong.

 .

They’ve been together since day one,

always happy, always fun.

They dress the same most every day,

pj’s for bed and overalls for play.

 .

One is bright and one is sunny.

One’s more sweet, one’s more funny.

Both love to giggle all the time.

Or they sing loudly, a nursery rhyme.

 .

One likes to run, one likes to jump.

One gets a bruise the other a bump.

In the backyard, their favorite place,

Today’s the day for the big race.

.

Teddy’s in the carriage, pushed too fast.

Bunny’s in the wagon soon to be past.

The tree is near, the race is done,

It’s a tie, they both won.

.

Now mom’s calling, time to eat,

something yummy then a treat.

First a wash of hands and a comb of hair,

then mom helps them up into the chair.

.

Yeah! It’s celery sticks with peanut butter,

then an oatmeal cookie like no other.

Mom baked them fresh, just today,

with raisins and nuts, just our way.

 .

Then it’s time to help mom clean,

There’s never a spill or crumb to be seen.

Then the pair find pillows to share,

for a nap with bunny and bear.

.

Snuggling atop their blanket for two,

Mom reads aloud something that’s new.

But first funny faces silence then yawns,

followed by dreams of swings and lawns.

.

But a nap’s never long when kitty’s about,

A nose-tickling tail serves as a shout.

The twins awake in a flash, ready to play.

But mom has some errands to do today.

.

First a surprise, a trip to the park,

the twin’s sleepy faces light with a spark.

There are swings there and a tall slide.

Jen climbs bars, Ben finds places to hide.

 .

They see other kids who know their names.

Then together they play jumping games.

Ben jumps high and Jen jumps far.

They all jump together back to the car.

 .

Mom hops in and turns the radio up.

Jen plays drums on her sippy-cup.

Ben sings along snug in his car-seat.

All banded together to a favorite beat.

.

Then off to the store and away they go,

reading the signs that they all know.

Ben gets excited by a speedy fire truck.

Jen giggles at a waddling road crossing duck.

.

They stop at a light that’s yellow then red.

Green means go! – to the store just ahead.

The wheels turn and blinkers blink,

Mom hit a bump, Ben spilled his drink.

.

Parked in the lot mom finds a cart,

with a wobbly wheel and a shaky start.

Through the door that opens like magic.

Ben waves his arm, pretending it’s his trick.

.

Their carriage a fortress, tank and ship,

sailing down aisles in search of bean dip.

With Jen in the seat and Ben in the back,

they guard the goodies in case of attack.

.

Jen checks off the list and grabs for a treat.

Sometimes mom finds them under the seat.

The breads now a pillow for Ben’s sleepy head.

So Jen gets to pick the new book to be read.

 .

At the check-out they chat with some friends.

Mom’s chat with the grocer never ends.

The carriage ride bumpy back to the car.

But that’s okay it isn’t too far.

.

Plus there’s a hill that goes that way.

So mom jumps on and we all get to play.

Everybody helps putting bags in the back.

Then a surprise, it’s a new kind of snack.

 .

They both get a straw for juice to share.

A flavor for each of the silly pair,

one likes the lemon and the other lime.

But that’s a story for another time.

.

To be continued…

Sck010915

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

sck082314

Time for Time-Out

timeoutimg002

Time for time-out it’ll end soon.

Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.

She’s had it since her wedding day.

Used just for holidays, not play.

*

I said that it was shaped just right,

to dig a trench where armies can fight.

Needs to be deep but not too wide.

Had to dig fast so they can hide.

*

Buried far down just like a tomb.

Guarding treasure found in your room.

Found in a box high on a chest.

It’s the booty pirates like best.

*

I must protect those shiny things:

chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.

Hid them good, remembered the map.

But then forgot after my nap.

*

To help me dig I found a pet.

The best digger there is I’ll bet.

Finished our yard then went next door.

Found nothing, ran off to dig more.

*

Chased our cat high up in the tree.

Grandma called the police for me.

Her nurse had to help make the call.

The police came, that isn’t all.

*

While chasing his dog that I found,

the man fell from holes in the ground.

He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.

I said it was his dog, not me.

*

His face was red, limping away.

But grandma’s heart will be okay.

And I have some more good news.

While digging today, I wore no shoes.

*

They’re nice and clean and tucked away.

I’ll try no pants some other day.

Though mess was made with my bare feet,

I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.

*

Pushed all the water out the door.

Then to your room, I cleaned some more.

Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.

I luckily then found the bleach.

*

You’ll smile when you turn on the light.

I know you like things clean and white,

with spots of color here and there.

You’ll surely hug your little dear.

*

I’m glad you’re home early today.

Don’t believe what the neighbors say.

The rescue came, Dad’s all right.

Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.

*

Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.

I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.

I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.

Fix the chair dad broke with his back.

*

He climbed too high to find his keys,

lost his balance from wobbly knees.

I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.

Then found soldiers under my bed.

*

Recalled the mission to be done.

Ran downstairs to start the fun.

Found no spoons not already bent.

But then found yours and out I went.

*

And that’s where my story began.

Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.

I know that time-outs hurt you too.

But when it’s done I’ll still love you.

*

The End

sck2014

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/468259

Flight Lesson

~

With the first bird tweet before sunrise
An eager young fairy opened her eyes
Impatient she was to explore a new day
To discover new things, have fun and play

Silently venturing from the hollow of her tree
Taking the leap to be fluttering free
She soared through the dark above the treetops
Seeing first the sun shine on morning bunny hops

Reaching new heights she dove for the green
There twisting and turning through branch barely seen
She then came to a stop with forest floor near
Where she sat on a twig spying something unclear

The rays of dawn peaked betwixt shadowed leaf
A lone beam shone on a nest wove beyond belief
Twas silken hung with shimmers and wiggles
Whence out pops a butterfly to bright eyes and giggles

The pair swiftly flew off, with each a new friend
A flight of fancy they hoped without end
Their forest was waking from the dark of night
Ferns were unfurling to welcome the light

Morning blossoms blooming’s a colorful treat
Dew drop reflections fragrantly sweet
The bumble bee’s buzz in search they roam
Lady bugs lingering wished to be home

Crickets stopped chirping, they’re done for the day
The squirrels and chipmunks have come out to play
Frolicking freely time quickly passed by
Their world growing smaller the higher they fly

Sensing danger circling above
The butterfly thought a game the fairy would love
For his instinct foretold of a life to be short
All else he knew the fairy had taught

He said “wait down below, I’ll hide and you seek”
“But count to a thousand before you peek.”
The adventurous fairy dove quick for the wood
The brave butterfly flew higher than was good

Counting’s completed, now’s time to discover
She opened her eyes while humming birds hover
She asked of them if a butterfly was seen
One with big wings of red, yellow and green

The little birds knew not of his hiding place
Sadness now shaded the young fairy’s face
She searched high and low, both left and right
Her sight’s now shrinking in falling sunlight

Shadows grow longer with the moons turn to rise
A blanket of stars soon covered sleepy eyes
The quiet night passing, she dreamt of her tree
And the nightmare had unprepared to be free

Awakening again to a song she knows well
Birds summon the sun as the pale moon fell
The fairy sat patient on a stump by a stream
Butterfly! Oh butterfly she did loudly scream

The butterfly didn’t hear her mournful cry
Though the echo carried through valley and sky
Her parents did hear their lost child’s voice
Soon by her side they all did rejoice

The young fairy’s joy soon returned to tears
She spoke of the butterfly and of her fears
Her parents assured her he lost his way
But would surely return somehow, someday

The family swiftly flew back to their cozy home
A place shared with others in a honey comb
The fairy now waves to the butterflies, they in return
For keeping friends close is what she did learn

~*~

sck050116

A Village Uncommon

~*~

Birds are first to welcome the day.

Second’s the stable boy, warm in his hay,

next the rooster with a cockle-doodle–do.

The sun then knows it’s time to shine through.

.

The day’s now begun on this little village farm,

sounds are awakened, no need for alarm.

Chores are done first before breakfast’s had.

The boy gets scraps for which he’s glad.

.

He then fetches water to fill troughs high,

looking down he reflects on the sky.

The birds passing by all wave hello.

The boy too would like somewhere to go.

.

His only companions where pigs in the barn,

a colt in the stall and a blanket of yarn.

The pigs are noisy but warm at night.

The colt’s always worried something’s not right.

.

The boy and the colt are both small for their age.

The colt’s awkward stance was more prone for a stage.

The boy’s body covered in hair but none on his head.

His face more pale than a ghost long dead.

.

He was missing teeth, what’s left are brown.

When out to run errands he’d limp back from town.

He was bullied by piers, pitied by the rest,

that’s why the barn is where he liked best.

.

The barn’s on a farm the boy’s aunt owned.

The pigs are theirs but the rest boarded or loaned.

The crops all prospered by the boy’s hard work,

though all profits were spent on his cousin the jerk.

.

The jerk had a sister the boy thought faire,

as did  all the mirrors where she did stare.

The boy’s aunt was mean and her husband’s a brute.

They all wore frowns but the dog was cute.

.

On the boy’s return to the barn for the night,

he was much surprised by a most curious sight.

Pigs were in a circle the colt standing tall.

The hens in the middle said nothing at all.

.

The lonely stable boy was their only concern.

So a plan was hatched for the love he earned.

The colt too had thoughts in his growing mind.

There’s something, somewhere he needs to find.

.

Then suddenly a change right before their eyes.

Within the hour the colt doubled in size.

The bumps on his shoulders grew larger too

As did his hooves, now too big for their shoe.

.

The discussion’s now over and all agreed.

The boy and the colt should both be freed.

Some details whispered and the time was set,

for a barnyard adventure to never forget.

.

The boy donned his blanket like superman’s cape,

then mounted the colt for their great escape.

First are hugs all around before they depart.

Then the barn doors cracked for the plan to start.

.

The hens muffled the rooster so time was bought.

The sheep flocked to the door as they were taught.

The ducks then quacked to cause a commotion.

And the brute awakened without a clue or a notion.

.

Pigs started oinking and the cows crashed the gate.

The little dog barked but it was too late.

The boy and colt ran fast past the posts,

waving goodbye to their ungracious hosts.

.

A tear was shed for the friends left behind.

But his blanket’s aroma would always remind.

The pair dashed down the lane by the hedge-row.

Then flew over the hills where the uncommon go.

.

In search of a world thought fantasy.

A place imagined by you and me.

A place where all’s different and the same,

where none is wrong or to blame.

.

This place called fantasy’s not make-believe.

It’s a place that’s real we feel and perceive.

As the pair now see how much they’ve grown.

They come into view of a sight unknown.

.

Not commonly known this uncommon sight,

there welcomed warmly in the setting sunlight.

The Uncommons filled their common and a party had.

There all are different and all are glad.

.

A one-legged sprinter hopped by to say hi,

as did the unicorn and an eagle with one eye.

A lady strolled over who walked on her hands.

Her arms so long they dragged in the sands.

.

Her daughter followed and sparks then flew.

The boy didn’t know that there could be two.

His Pegasus introduced with shakes all around.

Their hands all touching made a warm clapping sound.

.

Hugs soon followed and a tasty dinner had.

The boy almost forgot he was ever sad.

He cuddled a tiny kitten that roars really loud.

And played with two-legged puppies that only bowed.

.

There are two-headed snakes and a toothless beaver,

also the tail-less mouse from his aunt’s cleaver.

Here everyone’s loved and their love they share,

who wouldn’t love a giant dancing bear.

.

These commons are full of Uncommons galore.

Though anyone’s welcome, there’s room for more.

The boy’s party ran late and he rose with the sun.

Then all’s back to normal in a village uncommon.

~*~

sck061516

Forever Brine

Gaslights flicker, but one in three

These harsh fall winds batter thee

Soon the rains will pour and pelt

Yet with heavy heart nothing’s felt

~

Broken brick teeters beneath shoe-less feet

The stench of death fills the street

An island paradise – mine no more

Alas in this city to find a door

~

Thirty years lost at sea

‘Till found rescued, returned free

In search of a life I wish to find

Of futures not had and left behind

~

Now homeward bound to do what’s right

And share my tale of a dreadful night

With freezing sleet and gale, our sails torn

Splintered masts await the morn

~

Screams of mates haunting still

Silence came with the sunsets’ chill

I awoke to a native angel, urged to make a wife

Years of guilty pleasure pass of fertile island life

~

In a search never-ending of a foggy memory

Back to a decrepit city, forever lost to me

A vision of a woman I had no time to know

And a father-less child I never saw grow

~

Now I must roam this morbid place

In the shadows I hide this unknown face

With grizzled hide and toothless grin

Tis I this rotted hull of unforgivable sin

~

First I betrayed a young bride with family

I’ve betrayed my many brothers to a stormy sea

Betrayed my island flowers with my bastard seed

And their many blooms not knowing of their creed

~

In tangled webs of filthy alleys, doors locked tight

Shuttering out the dangers awakened in the night

Seeking boarded diamond pane, broken lintel I recall

My tiny door beckons just down the hall

~

Now steps ahead my future lies, one without a past

Decisions’ pondered long, yet always chosen fast

With a knock a ghost returns to those long at rest

Me thinks a splintered briny deck for all will be best

~*~

sck071615

Magic Carpet

~

Full moon’s high in my window pane,

a sleepless night yet again.

I think of what that old moon’s seen,

and the billions of days in-between.

.

Billions of stories it could share.

But few like grandma’s can compare.

Her life began long, long ago.

Raised in places few ever know.

.

In forests, jungles and never-ending plains,

there were exotic cities and quiet country lanes.

Naturalist nurtured traversing the globe,

her parents explorers and professors in robes.

.

She too attended their university,

majoring, of course, in anthropology.

She graduated at the very top of her class.

Then returning to a high mountain pass.

.

A place where dear friends made, one nevermore,

new will be made though not as before.

For the sisterly love they both did share,

her dowry passed from generations with care.

.

Their rug was presented for the mutual esteem,

more cherished than a simple weaving would  seem.

With sheep twists dyed and hands knotting all day,

life’s artful history’s made to give, barter or pray.

.

That winter spent mourning by choice and terrain.

Gram then ventured east with the new spring rain.

Her path soon ended on a long Pacific beach,

her life of the past now far out of reach.

.

She then called upon as never before.

She volunteered proudly as a nurse in the war.

Through years of blood, pain and tears she served,

refusing all the medals and honors deserved.

.

Though her true love was found slumped on a cot,

they soon returned home, where time was forgot.

Gramps got better and a new family sown.

their many shared scars were never to be shown.

.

Her old rug was placed by hearth and chest,

each full of stories though not all are best.

It’s a place we’d sit to hear grandma recall,

sometimes a place to do nothing at all.

.

So I tip-toed downstairs since sleep no option,

I’ll rest on that rug where dreams are begun.

It’s where secrets are shared and magic seen,

then a place for relaxing time in-between.

.

Once sewn as a bag keeping safe, precious things.

It’s been many a blanket with a picnic to bring.

It’s been a shawl in the cold and hood in the rain –

and a comfy pillow on the overnight train.

.

Adventures had in time that’s flown,

together worn from long years grown.

This rug’s grandma’s confidant and oldest friend,

soaring together their wove lives transcend.

.

Though colors now faded, ends torn and frayed,

beauty more timeless cannot be remade.

And when the winds do bellow just right,

we’re drawn up the flue and into the night.

.

Holding fast and climbing high,

we touched the stars in our moonlit sky.

We’d see twinkling lights in our town below,

then off to the hills where roads don’t go.

.

Over the wood, back to the place we all live,

where the door’s always open and love’s to give.

There blissful slumbers had snug as a bug,

whilst wrapped with a hug in grandmas old rug.

.

~*~

sck032116

In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage

Behold this welcome image,
where a hill rises from a bay.
There a tiny sheltered village lay,
in the shadow of Windmill Cottage.
Pleasant breeze’s most every day.

Sails from afar spill their goodwill.
From their nets sea treasures abound.
Farms thrive above on fertile ground.
Good fortune trickles down the hill.
Sea birds fill the air with sound.

Ancient timbers shade from lofty stage.
Labored grain grows upward at the season’s rate.
Winds howl, warmth’s aglow on the hill-top grate.
Flour flows freely down from Windmill Cottage.
Where nature’s breath spins the wheel of a poets estate.

He attends happily to familiar chores.
Quarterly ledgers bulge beneath waistcoat fair,
a quarterly journey to the bankers’ lair.
His shadow alone opens Main Street doors.
Harvest moon will guide homeward the fortunate heir.

Dusk creeps up as day slips by.
Must avoid the many scrupulous gaze,
modest and ordered with nothing ablaze.
In the shadows inhibitions die.
A visit with strangers, heads all a daze.

Journeys end in darkness where hill meets bay.
Tufted coaches dash the posh up to their inns.
Others huddle by fire pits drinking homemade gins.
The trades of the night swap those of day.
Church bells echo, atoning for their sins.

He’s just another hazy face on the wooden shores.
Where the day’s death lingers and ships bells ring.
Taverns fill, ale flows and drunken sailors sing.
Fiddles play and jigs are had on the dirty floors.
Habitual killers all, Oh what joy they bring.

Few will stay, most homeward bound.
Some laugh loudly while others cry.
Some will fight, some will die.
In search of peace to be found,
in the deep or endless sky.

Faceless comfort fills empty space.
Men with silver are sick for a day.
Boys with gold suffer years away.
Moonlit romance lingers on perfumed lace.
Then life’s anew beyond the tiny bay.

Sharing much common thread,
In this moment they’re brothers all.
Whale lamps flicker on sooty wall,
making friends while breaking bread.
All await the Bosun’s call.

In a corner where shadows overlap,
the poet searches for his light.
Here the day’s brew flows all night.
Safe for now from his hilltop trap,
layers of darkness, out of sight.

Behold this most unwelcome image.
The seat no more where the poet presides,
now in his shadow a filthy little demon hides.
Return not quenched to Windmill Cottage –
And wait again for the new moon tides?

Lonely candle spews depth on a lonely face.
Unseen pests sing their unwanted song,
the scent of time ticking long.
His travels must be many, all left a trace.
In the darkness our senses are strong.

His hat brim low to hide the shame.
The poet stutters with utter surprise.
The traveler snickers, doesn’t rise.
With sideways glance he asks the poet’s name.
Honestly answered by the fear in his eyes.

When after long hesitation a hasty reply –
“A traveler like you” was all that he said.
But after some ale the silence was dead.
Yard by yard many distant words fly.
Palettes grow with faces shaded red.

Cider was next and followed by rum.
The traveler’s tales – all told in prose.
The wetter the lips the faster it flows.
He’s hated by most, loved by some.
That’s how a traveler’s life often goes.

The poet proud – a rather long fellow.
The traveler meek – a short poet by name.
So many ports traveled they all looked the same.
His heart pumped blue, the poet gay and mellow.
Opposite sides of a coin, no one is to blame.

“With little time to hone a craft –
with a draft from an open door.
To close then return no-more.
To open then evermore – the draft.
Spirits gone, gone the craft – nevermore.”

“What dribble do you speak my friend?”
The poet inquired in disgusted tone.
“The dribble I think when thirsty and alone.”
The traveler quipped with message to send.
“I’ll tell you another, that’s my own.”

Silent words are never heard –
The voiceless poet stuttered.
Repeated babble muttered.
His rhymes always sputtered.
More mindless words would be absurd.

The air he breathed was glutted.
His helm so poorly ruddered,
his shirts all heavily buttered.
From his many toasts self-uttered.
His mind is so free and uncluttered.

His weaknesses many but unobserved.
Blinded to the Reaper’s shadow – deserved.
Soon the voiceless poet will be unheard.
Then blissful quiet on his paths wandered.
His silence welcome  – forever heard.

Drunken rabble roared with delight.
The poet withered belittled.
The traveler’s attention fizzled.
When laudanum’s sipped out of sight.
The poet escaped most grizzled.

Out of the dark into the night –
bellowing air; cold, wet and starless.
His poisoned lips know no finesse.
His state of mind out of time – not right.
The poet’s mind wanders aimless.

While the traveler tucked snugly in his bunk,
with help from many new joyous fan.
All loved the howls of this traveled wild-man.
His tales make perfect sense – drunk.
The favorite carried and a silent poet ran.

His boot heels clack on cobble slick.
The poet stumbles upward with achy head.
While his stallion slumbers atop golden bed.
If only to have aid from his gilt throat-ed stick.
This shadowy path he may be found dead.

The wind that is my fortune is slowly killing me.
This hill of heritage too high for me to climb,
with forceful push from the hands of time.
Drawing me back to a frigid sea –
my misery oh-so great – it is oh-so sublime.

Head tucked low, bottom up always slow.
Darkness wanes to purples then red.
Day is born, horrors of the night soon dead.
Hands and knees bloodied and bruised – falls of woe.
Alas the bodies of servants to guide to downy bed.

Winter behind, graven plans regress,
fevered sleep past, shadows of death dawdle.
Summer awaits, the poet’s lessons dwindle.
His magnum opus went off to press.
Journey’s soon to Main Street for praise to guzzle.

Surveying high atop his magnificent mount,
the poet exclaimed “behold this welcome image”
Deceived by the bustle – not he the homage.
But a tome by a worldly traveler, no doubt –
“In the Shadow of Windmill Cottage”

The End

Sck101614

Time for Time-Out

timeoutimg002

Time for time-out it’ll end soon.

Dug in the yard with mom’s good spoon.

She’s had it since her wedding day.

Used just for holidays, not play.

*

I said that it was shaped just right,

to dig a trench where armies can fight.

Needs to be deep but not too wide.

Had to dig fast so they can hide.

*

Buried far down just like a tomb.

Guarding treasure found in your room.

Found in a box high on a chest.

It’s the booty pirates like best.

*

I must protect those shiny things:

chains, charms, bracelets, baubles and rings.

Hid them good, remembered the map.

But then forgot after my nap.

*

To help me dig I found a pet.

The best digger there is I’ll bet.

Finished our yard then went next door.

Found nothing, ran off to dig more.

*

Chased our cat high up in the tree.

Grandma called the police for me.

Her nurse had to help make the call.

The police came, that isn’t all.

*

While chasing his dog that I found,

the man fell from holes in the ground.

He said he’ll sue, just wait and see.

I said it was his dog, not me.

*

His face was red, limping away.

But grandma’s heart will be okay.

And I have some more good news.

While digging today, I wore no shoes.

*

They’re nice and clean and tucked away.

I’ll try no pants some other day.

Though mess was made with my bare feet,

I cleaned it up with hose and sheet.

*

Pushed all the water out the door.

Then to your room, I cleaned some more.

Too bad the hose didn’t quite reach.

I luckily then found the bleach.

*

You’ll smile when you turn on the light.

I know you like things clean and white,

with spots of color here and there.

You’ll surely hug your little dear.

*

I’m glad you’re home early today.

Don’t believe what the neighbors say.

The rescue came, Dad’s all right.

Not much pain, he’ll wake by tonight.

*

Go to the doctor, I’ll just wait.

I’ll be good and won’t stay up late.

I missed lunch; I’ll make us a snack.

Fix the chair dad broke with his back.

*

He climbed too high to find his keys,

lost his balance from wobbly knees.

I found some socks to wrap dad’s head.

Then found soldiers under my bed.

*

Recalled the mission to be done.

Ran downstairs to start the fun.

Found no spoons not already bent.

But then found yours and out I went.

*

And that’s where my story began.

Now come sit close mom, hold my hand.

I know that time-outs hurt you too.

But when it’s done I’ll still love you.

*

The End

sck2014

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/468259

Could Have Been

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

Forests deep or oceans wide,
betwixt’s unknown, where demons hide.
Hovels cluster to brave surrounds.
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 while 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 enlightening day.

Surrounded by darkness, Sam was afraid,
he awaited death from his errors 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 squaw was before his eyes.
Sam huddled close with his new friend Fawn.
They shared the warmth till the new day’s dawn.

Their words spoken with only a glance,
parting as friends made by chance.
Fawn pointed toward 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 dreams of freedom we all yearn.

With hardy to fore, lessor the back,
prey’s all around for the attack.
Muskets in hand they hunt the beast.
The fallen the joy of this 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.
The silence broken by crackling leaf,
there stood his Fawn, ending his grief.

Sam rose in the moonlight reflecting her eyes.
Her pain carved deep by years of cries.
The pair ventured north, far as they could.
Their legend ends there and all was good.

~*~

Sck113015

Trippin

Plans have been made
and the weekend’s here.
An adventure will be had
but apart from my dear.
~
I’ll think of her while driving
and call at every chance.
I’ll dream of her when sleeping,
cuddled in romance.
~
I’ll spend my time distracted,
longing to return.
I’ll share my day with loved ones
but not the one I yearn.
~
Whilst my head will follow
wherever I may roam,
my heart will always be
at our happy home.

~*~
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Good Morning

Good morning my love is words daily spoken.
Bonds made are hearts never broken.
Snuggling close starts every day.
Warmth is felt and here to stay.
~
Eyes open to smiles bright.
Kisses are shared and all is right.
Our day’s to be filled with great elation.
Our time’s together always pure jubilation.
~
Worries pass without a fuss.
Poetry’s to be written just for us.
Adventure awaits with each day anew.
And good morning my love, my love’s for you.

~*~
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