Seasonal Burps

~

April’s in with a wash, May’s out with a bloom.

June’s always good, July ends too soon.

August is hot, a time for the beach.

September’s when summer’s furthest from reach.

October refreshes with crispness and hue.

November we’re thanked for so much to do.

December’s for holidays when winter’s still bright.

January is mostly a long frozen night.

February’s short yet seems without end,

it’s the month of love and a shadowy friend.

Then time for the lion to come marching in –

for a spring outing with lambs and a grin.

~*~

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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.

~

Saw a ship of wood, bone and hair.

Dad got nervous, said don’t go there!

Great memories of dad and me.

I wish that mom would come and see.

~

Up before dawn, first at the gate.

If you’re not first, well than you’re late.

I think that second’s also OK.

Don’t follow, go the other way.

~

A laugh a push a yawn and sneeze.

New spring pollen made someone wheeze.

We’re squashed on the fence right up front.

Soon we’ll start a new treasure hunt.

~

The gate opens, I think we won.

I don’t care; I’m here to have fun.

We see faces we’ve seen before.

But the new ones are a lot more.

~

Soon the sun will rise in the sky.

Down the rows with treasures stacked high.

A day of fun, ready to learn,

Something new at every turn.

~

We pass the women in her shawl.

Sits alone, sells nothing at all.

Walking past, I’d wave and say hi.

But never did I catch her eye.

~

But now I’m ten, no chaperon.

Maybe she smiled because I’m grown.

She waved me over to come right in.

Glad to see her never seen grin.

~

I gazed into lots of old stuff,

even the best looked kind of rough.

She told me stories of each thing,

corner chair and ancient nose ring.

~

“I never sell my things of old.

They can’t be enjoyed when they’re sold,

loan things to friends once in a while,

like you” she said with a big smile.

~

“I’ve watched you pass since you were small.

On your dads’ shoulders, eight feet tall.

I’ve seen you smile and watched you grow.

Each time passing you’d say hello.

~

Walking past, eyes open wide.

You never dared to come inside.

Talking to strangers is unwise.

If I scare you, I apologize.”

~

She gave me a book that’s quite small,

not too many pages at all.

The book kept dreams lost in your head,

while you were sleeping in your bed.

~

She opened the book to page three.

Then whispered some secrets to me.

“Dreams are wishes stuck in your head.

They only come out when in bed.

~

Sleeping soundly, eyes shut tight,

mind wondering all through the night.

When you wake to start a new day,

write down those dreams before you play.

~

Follow your heart wherever it goes.

Record your trip in lovely prose.

Don’t stop writing until you’re done.

It’s never work when it’s all fun.

~

First open the book carefully.

Than close your eyes and wait to see,

all your dreams will come back to you.

But it might take a week or two.

~

Just be patient, don’t ever fret.

All things good you never forget.

I need not tell you anymore,

complete instructions on page four.”

~

She found a box, it fit just right.

I couldn’t wait to sleep that night.

Tied it up with ribbon and bow.

She gave me hug, told me to go.

~

It’s been a long winter since then.

Yes I’ve used up many a pen.

I wake each morning at sunrise.

Wipe the night’s sleepys from my eyes

~

Mom saw me writing early one day.

She asked to see, what could I say?

Together we both read out loud.

We laughed and hugged, she said she’s proud.

~

Now up after dawn, we’re not late.

Family’s first, treasure can wait.

Another year, there’s much to see,

at the swap meet; mom dad and me.

~

I hope to see my new old friend,

I’ll share my news with happy end.

I tried hard and my wish came true.

Now mom comes to the swap meet too!

*

The End

~

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

Nuts for You

I’ve tried to pen a poem

for my beloved Nutella.

Though I’m not really

a very sentimental fella.

*

I love how she’s a little nutty,

Oh so coco sweet.

We’ve shared many lovely meals,

always a delightful treat.

*

She’s a vision sprawled

on a wholesome bed.

Wanton desires

soon to be fed.

*

I love her truly

like no other.

But a little more

with peanut butter.

*

And as with all

other tries before.

I’m getting hungry

and can write no more.

~*~

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Questionable Poetry

As a man I question my greed.
As a poet I question my need.
As a professional I question a lot.
As an artist it’s questions I’ve got.
~
As a pessimist my questions are tough.
As an optimist I question not enough.
As a slacker I question overtasking.
As one with answers I question the asking.
~
As a thinker I question the question.
As a lover I question the suggestion.
As a person I question my will.
And as of today I’m questioning still.

~*~
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Way Misunderstood

I once dated a lady from Providence.
She had lots of degrees and I, little sense.
We went on a date and took a stroll.
She walked right into a telephone pole.
~
She fell down and scraped her knee.
Writhing in pain she screamed at me.
“My glasses unworn so I’d look good!”
I helped her get home as I should.
~
We cleaned her wound, it wasn’t that bad.
Our date was ruined and we both were sad.
I asked to see her again real soon.
We both agreed on the next afternoon.
~
I went to her house, she opened the door.
What she had planned I wasn’t sure.
She said come in; you can have your way.
What she said next, I couldn’t say.
~
She left the room and I got undressed,
thinking this better than I had guessed.
When she returned she gasped in shock,
while I was caressing a huge pet rock.
~
She soon started swinging and I ran out.
I stood naked outside, my lunch in doubt.
A misunderstanding ruined that day.
And I never did try her curds and whey.

~*~
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Pencilicillin

I think my pencil’s broken,
nothing’s coming out.
I’ve tried lots of paper,
now I’m feeling doubt.
~
Could it be a dream,
the writing that I’ve done?
Or perhaps a nightmare,
this time I’ve spent as one.
~
I wake up every morning,
before the sun will rise.
My chair awaits its ass,
glasses await their eyes.
~
Coffee I will slurp,
watching hours burn.
If I were a younger man,
it’d be of less concern.
~
Time is not to waste,
though I shouldn’t squawk.
My pencils served me well,
though I may try chalk.
~
I know I need my fix,
words do the trick.
Perhaps I’m not a poet,
just really, really sick.

~*~
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Love is

Love is; the poem too long to write.

A canvas painted in light,

blending all the colors white.

 

The song too high to sing.

Timeless symbology of token ring,

endless joy two will bring.

 

A tug of war, win less win more.

Always warm beyond the door,

in sickness there’s no better cure.

 

Too follow and be pursued.

Feeling comfy in the nude.

Subtle glances never misconstrued.

 

Sheets full – to be continued…

 

 

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Time for Time-Out

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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

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

Morning Triku 181 ~ If the Shoe Fits

Turning Point

You’re paranoid when
you use turn signals to turn
in your own driveway.
~

Not Berry Funny

You know you’re aging
When you imagine Aunt Bea
with long flowing hair.
~

Slowly Evolving

Inspired today
by a long walk in the woods,
one foot at a time.

~*~
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Foolish Wish

April second has finally arrived.
Fools were tricked as contrived.
Games were played, some were lost.
Some were duped or double crossed.
~
A year now past and summer’s near.
Winter surprises we’ll no longer fear.
Warmth consumes and stress we’ll shed.
Sunny thoughts now shine ahead.
~
Autumn will come, leaves will fall.
Next it’s time for a Christmas ball.
Then the months when all is gray,
again we’ll wish for April fool’s day.

~*~
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Blinkered

Blinked and missed the rainbow,
tripped and missed the fall.
I slid right into winter,
waited for spring to call.
~
I didn’t hear the ring,
so I put on my old snow boots.
I tiptoed out the door,
everybody’s picking fruits.
~
I check to see the time,
but I see my watch is lost.
I wish to start life over,
can’t imagine what’s the cost.
~
Forward I must go,
eyes now open wide.
I may be but half-witted,
but at least half is on my side.

~*~
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Shrinking Enthusiasm

My tale begins with a cautious note;
you should never try to jump a mote.
Pay the admission and take the boat.
You’ll spend ten bucks but save your coat.
~
The rest of the day wasn’t much better,
it started to rain and we all got wetter.
My friend ruined her new wool sweater.
Then we all got chased by a big Irish setter.
~
We called a cab but didn’t all fit,
in the trunk I had to sit.
Getting out my pants then split.
It was a horrible time I’d like to forget.
~
We woke up the next day and the sun was bright.
But the temperature plunged overnight.
The roads were icy and a terrible sight.
My coat had shrunk and now it’s too tight.
~
Stuck in our rooms the rest of the trip,
the best of our tour we’d have to skip.
Our bill came and I bit my lip,
the service was good but could afford no tip.
~
The day finally came to leave this place;
we all got up late and had to race.
The bus came late and almost out of space.
When we got off I forgot my suitcase.
~
At the airport our flight was delayed.
A blizzard was coming and everyone’s afraid.
A pet skunk got loose and I got sprayed.
Now gladly home, where I should’ve stayed.

~*~
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Weighty Waiting

A week was spent with no heat;
my old boiler had had enough.
Perhaps it was just a test;
to see if we are old house tough.
~
The temperature dropped into the teens,
we also had some snow.
We huddled in the kitchen;
basking in the old stove’s glow.
~
Now the boiler’s been replaced,
our cold feet are now a memory.
Now which shoe will drop next,
we’ll just have to wait and see.

~*~
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Kissing Off the Old Year

An old year fades and a new one shines.
The path is clear, follow the signs.
Hearts will lead where we’re to go.
Minds remind what we’ve to know.
~
Eyes will see our destinations ahead.
Ears will hear what’s always been said.
Bodies will change as we all age.
Our lives will turn another page.
~
Resolutions are made, some are kept.
While those forgotten we’ll accept.
Our time’s running out, best to prepare,
midnight’s soon and we’ve kisses to share.

~*~
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Christmas Presence

To all my WordPress likes, or no
Your many gifts have helped me grow
For you my thanks I’d like to show
(though procrastination makes it slow)
With no further aside let’s give it a go

***

May all your hopes and dreams come true
Or at least get some rest
For another year’s upon us
I wish you all the best

And have a very merry holiday
With a dash of Ho, Ho, Ho!!!
And may your bells be jingled
Beneath the mistletoe

~*~
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Wizard Mode

I’m off to see a wizard, the wonderful wizard of odd

It flutters all about waving a feathered rod

But first I’ll take a nice long nap

Wake up then find my thinking cap

 ~

I’ll sharpen my quills like a warrior’s blade

And joust with parchment where magic’s made

Then dig into my helmet, always full of goo

Hopefully to yank out something that is new

 ~

I never know what or if it may be

Until the ink dries then I’ll get to see

What magic has this wizard left?

Something clever or something deft

 ~

Sometimes the words all disappear

Then time has passed, wasted here

Though journeys un-ventured, high or low

Are the adventures you will never know

 ~

So follow your wizard and you will find

Those magical wizards are mostly kind

Though often absent, never fret, I’ve a hunch

Some wizards are just out to lunch

 ~*~

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Morning Triku #65 – Beauty

 

Artful Sight

Colors the world bright

Sunrise, sunset, dark of night

Paint box filled with light

 ~

Night Rhythms

Notes strewn, candles fade

Laughter ebbs, whispers consume

Heartbeats set the tone

 ~

Fine Line

Lustful sheets beckon

Bodies tingle, lips moisten

Blood boils – time to write!

 ~*~

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