Instantaneous conception
Darkened suspension
Quintessential isolation
Thrusted illumination
Blissful termination
Trusted dedication
Explored dimension
Forced memorization
Infinite confusion
Rising tension
Tense deliberation
Lofty ambition
Numbing frustration
Occasional jubilation
Generational creation
Much tribulation
Restful justification
Deserved relaxation
Diminishing pension
Perpetual hibernation
But so far mostly fun
Sck120812
Around the bend from the church on main,
lies a quaint little street, called Skipper’s Lane.
T’was on this path a young lad dwelled,
before the streets’ name or the lad propelled.
~
The tale goes: At the head of a cove the sandbar’s long.
The water’s choppy and the currents strong.
A young lad fished, he netted all day.
At sunset he rowed to the town up the bay.
~
He traded his catch for supplies and some cash.
He then rowed back home and buried his stash.
Years soon passed and the lad’s now a man.
The time was now to dig up an old can.
~
The cans held his savings, he’s more than a few.
The man, now called Netty, had something to do.
Netty rowed into town, to buy but not sell.
He bought a new boat with a bright shiny bell.
~
He towed the boat home not knowing how to sail.
A year’s practice behind then caught in a gale.
Netty stayed calm, his life, spent afloat.
Home was in sight when he saw a tossed boat.
~
The boat missed the inlet, now blowing out to sea.
Though Netty unsure, he could not leave them be.
Adjusting his sails Netty raced to give aid.
Soaked and battered he would not be afraid.
~
Lost memories filled young Netty’s head.
Recalling the night, he was almost dead.
The sky was black and the water cold.
The ship sat heavy, filled with gold.
~
Remembering screams and cracking wood,
the ship’s bell rang, gone childhood.
The boy hit the water and woke on the shore.
The life he once knew was no more.
~
A crashing wave broke Netty’s trance,
one second more he’d lose his chance.
He leaned on his tiller to bring his boat near.
The boats colliding mustered everyone’s fear.
~
Netty thought quickly and dropped his sheet,
then heaved his net around a cleat.
He pulled and pulled with all his might.
His biggest catch was that stormy night.
~
All returned safely before the sun rose.
Netty now a hero was gifted new clothes.
New friends were made, now one’s Netty’s wife.
Recounting his memories he bought a new life.
~
The gold recovered, Netty bought lots of land.
He built a grand home well away from the sand.
The harbor in view he watches over his fleet.
The town, now prosperous, gave Netty a street.
~*~
SCK090825
Mom’s always angry and I’m fed up.
The kids are a pain and won’t shut up.
The little brats scream, yell and they shout.
There is no relief, not even when out.
~
They cost a lot too and always want more.
I’ve tripped over packages at my front door.
Something’s always broken and the house a mess.
We need a vacation, I must confess.
~
A hammock for two on a deserted beach,
with the comforts of home well within reach.
We’ll eat when we want and we’ll get up late.
By day we’ll frolic, each night a hot date.
~
We’ll call the kids weekly, just to say high.
Then we’ll hang-up when they start to cry.
We’ll bring back presents, two for each.
But if they’re bad we’re back to the beach.
~*~
SCK071623
.
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
Welcome back to Hannahbelle’s folly
where dreams broken yet most stayed jolly.
The factory was shut, tourist didn’t stay,
the impatient grew impatient for a better day.
Most old town folk not wanting to go
agreed to a change in the Hannahbelle show.
Their now was the present, past’s time of old,
the gooey center betwixt is this tale told.
It starts with Charlie, who lacked business sense.
All money made was but half his expense.
Having won the factory therefore the town,
he became a fair leader, albeit a clown.
Yet a kinder soul there could never be.
All hungers fed, anytime, always free.
The workers prospered with newfound wealth,
not only from raises but dental and health.
The village glistened, all gloom washed away.
Their Renaissance grew brighter each passing day.
Charlie married soon after, a remarkable bride,
their love for each other they couldn’t hide.
Hannahbelle followed within that same year.
She’s properly pampered and handled with care.
By noble decree the eldest of elders proclaimed;
In honor of Charlie the towns to be renamed.
A contest was held to find the best name.
Most of the entries were all the same.
The town’s new name was Hannahbelleville,
from miles around people came for the thrill.
With towers of brick placed one at a time
all topped with a bell for the hourly chime.
The windows sparkled, doors welcomed all.
Just step right in and we’ll all have a ball.
Neat lines form long to be part of the show.
There are twists and turns wherever you go.
A bib and bags are given free at the door
to save what’s left for when you want more.
Ponchos welcome but most haven’t a care,
sweet diversions are why they’re all here.
Where chocolate waterfalls splash at their base,
what a tasty surprise to the passerby’s face.
There are also cakes, cookies and candies galore.
There’s shirts and hats at the little gift store.
The shelves always stocked, but not for long,
their prices are good so sales are strong.
On paper everything seemed OK.,
until a new town sprouted across the bay.
This new town was grander, factory too.
They stole Charlie’s recipes, yet he hadn’t a clue.
They built a new park with rides big and small.
It’s better than Hannahbelles that had none at all.
The competition soon became bold and brutal.
The rivals charged half for twice the strudel!
Though Charlie’s reluctant to change his way,
he worked all the harder without any pay.
Then Hannahbelle’s tuition became overdue,
not just one term but quite a few.
She’d have to go home without a degree.
The long spring stretched, she worked as three.
Side by side the little family all toiled.
Cooking and cleaning and keeping things oiled.
Summer arrived and thoughts were blooming.
She had to think fast, payday was looming.
Then a plan was hatched to save the day.
She called her classmates to all have a say.
Her idea was shared to change their fates.
The chefs and chemists mixed heated debates.
Mathematicians integrated their permutations.
The statisticians juggled interpolations.
The engineers tinkered to make all precise.
Artist’s flourished to make all look nice.
A manager’s needed to book weekend bands.
Then there’s the overhead and two hired hands.
There are taxes, tariffs and hidden fees.
We’ve a lawyer’s retained to shoot the breeze.
Bankers were safe with their calculations.
The accountants left to balance frustrations.
Our writers wrote slogans, jingles and ads.
Their pieces placed in papers for new I.T. grads.
A final test given for last minute tweaks.
Then code was input by computer geeks.
The output emerged and everyone’s thrilled.
Soon teeth and tummies both less filled.
It’ll be safe to consume whenever you please.
They’ll never melt and cannot freeze.
There’s no a messy wrappers or sticky streets.
When enjoying the new Hannahbelle binary treats.
Though you will need a dongle for a spare port,
to call up our server of cheese mocha torte.
You can try any flavor you think to choose,
try them all, there’s nothing to loose
We’ve green apple slush and warm fuzzy peach.
There’s seven billion in all, that’s one for each.
Just fill in the form and enter your pin.
Sit back, relax and let the digiconfection begin.
Pay what you can, take what you need.
The business is sweet without any greed.
And after all the bills are paid,
what’s left is ours; it’s what we’ve made.
What was made is what we make.
What Hannahbelle makes icing on her cake.
Hannahbelles treats now second to none,
without competition you’ve already won.
And as the creator of all that’s digiconfectionary,
she’s thought now to be a true visionary.
A university was founded, tuition’s free.
Hannahbelle was first to earn a degree.
Soon she was mayor of Hannahbelleville.
She could serve for life and probably will.
The company grew large, built in its niche.
Everyone did well, though no one got rich.
Hannahbelle shares all her profits and good will.
So all ends happily in Hannahbelleville.
sck011816dft
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 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
Today will be different than yesterday.
Yesterday was sunny, today it’s gray.
Yesterday was warm with skies of blue.
Today is rainy and there’s nothing to do.
~
Oh, I’ve projects o’many, my list is long.
The radio blasts yet another old song.
With pencil in hand my mind goes astray.
I’ll scribble on paper things I don’t say.
~
Today will be different, I’ve changes to make.
Yesterday was wasted, but I did buy a rake.
Yesterday’s gone, its memory will wane.
Today is here and I’ve a future to gain.
~
I’ve done some bad, but mostly good deeds.
Now I’ve all the things that one really needs.
And for love, joy, health and youth I’m glad.
I scribble today: three out of four ain’t bad.
~*~
SCK050625
Vacation: Time spent worrying about work
Autumn: When sweaters say “welcome back”
Winter: When outerwear becomes underwear
Spring: When life returns to footsteps
Summer: When necessity dictates our modesty
sck101714
I’ve a brand-new pad so indoors I’ll stay.
There’ll be no visit on this miserable day.
I miss that baby, I miss her a lot.
She just turned four and hugs I’ve got.
~
I need a squeeze; I need a kiss.
But it’s the smiles that I really miss.
Her face lights up when we meet.
It’s always special when we greet.
~
She lives in the city, a little too far.
Four hours of traffic, stressed in a car.
Her mom’s always busy; we chat on the phone.
Three times a week, each time she’s grown.
~
Maybe next week, that’ll be great.
We’ll read some stories and stay up late.
We’ll brush our teeth and get ready for bed.
We plan tomorrow then a kiss on the head.
~
We’ll go for a walk, have breakfast in town.
We’ll play in the yard then into her gown.
We’ll dance for a while and talk and giggle.
Then into the car seat with a twist and wiggle.
~
We tell all the jokes we almost forgot
I say she’s silly, she says I’m a nut.
There’s kisses goodbye, though never enough.
Then one last wave, the one always tough.
~*~
SCK101525
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
I feel it in my fingers.
I feel it in my toes.
I feel it in my head.
I feel it on my nose.
I feel it in my body.
I feel it in my heart.
I feel your love is with me,
even when you’re not.
~*~
SCK071518
Every thought’s a beginning.
Only ends come to pass.
Pursue with passion.
Smile in the glass.
Fog may surround.
This too shall pass.
The future awaits.
Get off your lazy ass.
The End
*
We’re off to the swap meet today.
Dad says its work, I say its play.
Mom thinks it’s all a bunch of junk.
Who needs an old cast iron skunk?
~
Every year since I was two.
Seen the toes of many a shoe.
In my wagon with squeaky wheel,
once pulled string from an old fly reel.
~
Saw a ship of wood, bone and hair.
Dad got nervous, said don’t go there!
Great memories of dad and me.
I wish that mom would come and see.
~
Up before dawn, first at the gate.
If you’re not first, well than you’re late.
I think that second’s also OK.
Don’t follow, go the other way.
~
A laugh a push a yawn and sneeze.
New spring pollen made someone wheeze.
We’re squashed on the fence right up front.
Soon we’ll start a new treasure hunt.
~
The gate opens, I think we won.
I don’t care; I’m here to have fun.
We see faces we’ve seen before.
But the new ones are a lot more.
~
Soon the sun will rise in the sky.
Down the rows with treasures stacked high.
A day of fun, ready to learn,
Something new at every turn.
~
We pass the women in her shawl.
Sits alone, sells nothing at all.
Walking past, I’d wave and say hi.
But never did I catch her eye.
~
But now I’m ten, no chaperon.
Maybe she smiled because I’m grown.
She waved me over to come right in.
Glad to see her never seen grin.
~
I gazed into lots of old stuff,
even the best looked kind of rough.
She told me stories of each thing,
corner chair and ancient nose ring.
~
“I rarely sell my things of old.
They can’t be enjoyed when they’re sold,
loan things to friends once in a while,
like you” she said with a big smile.
~
“I’ve watched you pass since you were small.
On your dads’ shoulders, eight feet tall.
I’ve seen you smile and watched you grow.
Each time passing you’d say hello.
~
Walking past, eyes open wide.
You never dared to come inside.
Talking to strangers is unwise.
If I scare you, I apologize.”
~
She gave me a book that’s quite small,
not too many pages at all.
The book kept dreams lost in your head,
while you were sleeping in your bed.
~
She opened the book to page three.
Then whispered some secrets to me.
“Dreams are wishes stuck in your head.
They only come out when in bed.
~
Sleeping soundly, eyes shut tight,
mind wondering all through the night.
When you wake to start a new day,
write down those dreams before you play.
~
Follow your heart wherever it goes.
Record your trip in lovely prose.
Don’t stop writing until you’re done.
It’s never work when it’s all fun.
~
First open the book carefully.
Than close your eyes and wait to see,
all your dreams will come back to you.
But it might take a week or two.
~
Just be patient, don’t ever fret.
All things good you never forget.
I need not tell you anymore,
complete instructions on page four.”
~
She found a box, it fit just right.
I couldn’t wait to sleep that night.
Tied it up with ribbon and bow.
She gave me hug, told me to go.
~
It’s been a long winter since then.
Yes I’ve used up many a pen.
I wake each morning at sunrise.
Wipe the night’s sleepy’s from my eyes
~
Mom saw me writing early one day.
She asked to see, what could I say?
Together we both read out loud.
We laughed and hugged, she said she’s proud.
~
Now up after dawn, we’re not late.
Family’s first, treasure can wait.
Another year, there’s much to see,
at the swap meet; mom dad and me.
~
I hope to see my new old friend,
I’ll share my news with happy end.
I tried hard and my wish came true.
Now mom comes to the swap meet too!
*
The End
~
sck100914
Available at: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/470879
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.
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
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.
.
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
.
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.
.
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.
.
“What may have wings cannot fly.
Holds a heart yet cannot die.
Shaken pitch laughs off rain.
Having one a princess to gain?”
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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”
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.”
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
Over forest and mountains, ocean and stream,
free in a world where she need not dream.
Adrift on her Pearl upon the endless sea,
Alone they now be in their realm of fantasy.
.
The king broken-hearted wept in his sleep.
The queen stricken ill with never a peep.
They later agreed to bare a new heir,
whether girl or boy was not a care.
.
The next child’s fate was sure to be better,
born free of mind and trappings that clutter.
With a loving heart nurtured by family and friends,
then given the choices to choose their own ends.
.
The princess returned in time for the birth.
The kingdom was full of merriment and mirth.
The princess enchanted with her friend who flew.
And all ends happily as fairy tales all do.
*
The End
Sck121418
.
Taxing Tax Free
The nice thing about
being an author is you
wrote your own paycheck.
.
More or Less
If you try sometime
you do find you get what you
tried for but no more.
.
Dueling Wits, I Coulda Had a G8
If a sum’s greater
than its parts, then parts lacking
must be a summit.
.
sck070717
I was a baby by conception
A child with confusion
A sailor by frustration
And an engineer by education
I’m an appraiser by profession
A husband with devotion
A father of commotion
And a poet by obsession
I’m a man in regression
Not ready for stagnation
So I’m penning a description
On this day of our taxation
.
sck041516
I’ve done lots of things.
But I haven’t done them all.
There’s still much to do.
And my list isn’t small.
~
My time’s growing short.
My energy’s sinking fast.
But I’ll never quit,
as long as I can last.
~
Dawn will start my days.
I’ll survive a wingsuit flight.
Languages I’ll learn.
And songs I’d love to write.
~
I’ll sail all the seas.
But that’s gonna take a while.
For now, smaller goals,
today I’ll share some smiles.
~*~
SCK110622
~*~
The church bell rang and doors flung wide.
We raised our heads and ran outside.
Sitting’s done, now’s time for fun.
Our Easter egg hunt has now begun.
.
It’s a perfect day with bright sunshine.
Our baskets ready we waited in line.
Till all were scattered on the count of three,
in every direction kids ran free.
.
I ran first to my favorite tree.
I found it’s the favorite of not just me.
So off to the hedge where eggs always found,
none’s left there so to the playground.
.
While the others searched I rode the swing.
When they had gone I heard birds sing.
I glanced to the trees and sounds nearby.
Then off jumped I and into the sky.
.
I landed in sand on two feet and one hand,
then a tumble or two and up I stand.
I turned to the fence where tall trees grew-
to search for a prize of an egg or two.
.
The chirps grew louder with each step I took.
Did they tell me to leave or tell me to look?
I kneeled near bushes and peeked below.
I stuck in my hand as far as would go.
.
Feeling around for a tasty surprise,
I pulled out an egg but smaller in size.
Holding tight it felt warm to the touch.
Then I knew why that bird chirped so much.
.
Gently I put the egg down on the ground,
took a few steps back not making a sound.
A whistle blew, the hunt was now done.
But silently I waited in the midday sun.
.
My basket is broken and clothes dirty and torn.
I knew I’d face my mother’s scorn.
But there’s more to life than clothes un-ripped.
There are some events that can’t be skipped.
.
There’s saving the things that you love.
Then a bird swooped down from above
She tapped the shell lightly with her beak.
A tiny head popped out to take a peek.
.
The mom nudged her chick back into the bush.
Her frightful chirping turned to a shush
Then another whistle blew, louder than ever.
To stay any longer just wouldn’t be clever.
.
I hurried back, joining up with the rest.
Our search was now over finding the best.
My cousin won second, they had four.
I found just one but I think I won more.
~*~
Sck030916
http://www.childrens-stories.net/featured-childrens-story/featured-childrens-story.htm
I need to fix my plumbing.
But Powerball’s not forthcoming.
Disappointment is always numbing.
Yesterday I was humming.
~
I’ve no reason to be bumming.
Another chance is coming.
So, today I’m back to strumming.
If I win, I’ll try some drumming.
~*~
SCK091125
~
Density is when
The skull grows ever thicker
Yet hat size unchanged
~*~
sck020316
rhymesalot 
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