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.

~*~
SCK092120

Novel Times

Days are getting longer, patience growing thin.
Optimism’s waning and confusion’s setting in.
The world is topsy-turvy, at times looking gray.
The blues are getting deeper, shaded every day.
~
A pandemic is upon us, direction is unsure.
We sit on pins and needles bleeding for a cure.
We’ve masks in the market, sanitizers in the car.
Gas at least is cheap. But I’m afraid to go too far.
~
What will be the normal when odd times are behind?
Will we be more friendly or simply more unkind?
I’d like to be a rebel and make up my own laws.
But we’re all in this together, routines now on pause.
~
With leadership sorely lacking and conspiracies on the news,
our lives are changed forever regardless of our views.
With distance we will live for the future that is seen.
But tomorrows will arise closing gaps between.
~
We humans are survivors, our brains lead the way.
But time will write our story and we’ve little say.
With the pages that we’ve bound created from within.
Our chapter, long or short, will tell us if we win.

~*~
SCK051820

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

A Brief History of Dragons

The earth still brewing,
new life was stewing.
Flora askew and fauna still new,
eat or be eaten was all they knew.
~
The ground untested, sulfur’s in the air.
Crazed creatures wandered unaware;
creepy crawly slithery things,
swimmers of seas and fliers with wings.
~
But tucked cozily in palaces of awe,
dragons feasted and pondered what they saw.
Intruders were meals, some thrown back.
And gardening was their tasty snack.
~
Millennia past but for the dragon too soon,
change was afoot with the handy baboon.
Their hordes grew and quickly spread.
The plundering’s swift but never to be fed.
~
The dragon’s numbers always small,
just a few thousand and that is all.
They’re all very patient and very, very smart.
Some of the elders saw this planet’s start.
~
A meeting was had, all without doubt.
The dragons decided to wait this breed out.
They hibernate now till mankind’s last blunder.
When happily woke to darkness and thunder.

~*~
SCK120618

Past Tense

Imagine adventure, step back in time.
Halls with doors, surprises mine.
Ghostly greetings with every blink,
the past behind we’re led to think.
.
Spirits pass spirits on.
Spirit’s off spirit’s gone.
Souls see the soul-less be.
Soul’s sense, soul’s free.
.
Minds absorb, till out of time.
Tour’s done, step back in line.
Entry’s open, time to depart.
Life awaits, make the start.

~*~
SCK091018

Uncharted Waters

dsc_0055.jpg

Where a river meets a bay,
a quaint sheltered village lay.
Ships of yore still ply the docks.
A tiny lighthouse warns of rocks.

Haunting sounds linger on the breeze.
Shanties of old still to please.
Times bygone we’ve all to explore.
The past opens today’s unknown door.

Nights brighter compared to the then.
Our days shorter way back when.
Yesterday’s preserve tomorrows map.
Horizons calm or a trap.

~*~
SCK072018

Twilight Stroll

~

At an English peak and the new lost

a short turn’s taken at the gambrels cross.

Trees tall to recall centuries of the past

from carriage path to autos passing fast.

.

Reminiscent a lane with styles to fade

hillside perched and often made.

With a gentle rise to never waiver

our walks through time long to savor.

~*~

sck022716

A War of Words

Heroes fill the sheets in the book of time.

Losers lie littered on their beds of lime.

We boast of gallant feats, forget awful sin.

Tales of our history told by those who win.

.

Time passes when memory dies.

No untold stories or unseen lies.

Minds made from man-made past.

Lives lost when truth’s cast.

~

Kings joust for their ideology.

Battles fought by you and me.

Victory penned behind their wall.

The war of words lost to all.

*

Lines on pages, pages in a book.

Knowledge awaits if you know where to look.

Truth often hides in the space between.

Voices heard, though unseen.

.

Wars always fought for lessons learned.

Making new ash of histories burned.

Share the inks and all scribble fast.

Then the war of words doused at last.

~

The End

*

SCK101214