little things

Poetic Injustice

Afloat in red stilettos, hair, nails and lips

Shimmering in black satin, taught about the hips

Blue green eyes sparkle as they glance my way

Smile wide across her face, yet I’ve nothing to say

*

Subtle hand reaching softly touches mine

Nervously reacting I nearly spilled her wine

Leaning ever closer, whispering in my ear

Sweet sounds alluring, words I’ve dreamt to hear

*

Standing stunned, throbbing chest

Twisted tongue on a tortured quest

A racing mind all aflutter

An uncertain stutter I did utter

*

With this mutter she did chortle

A pen less poet’s just a mortal

~*~

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Welcome!

Yellow’s out, green’s underway

Pinks will wait another day

Then purples, orange and brilliant reds

Bursts of blooms thrust from beds

 ~

My world awakens, spring’s finally here

Lilac hues fill the air

Sunrise sparkles on morning dew

Budding trees frame the view

 ~

Clear blue skies, picnics at noon

Summer’s next, just not too soon

 *

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To All a Happy End

Books without covers, until they’re read

Blank pages at the start, full when it’s dead

Chapters each grow complex as time fills the sheets

Cluttered with description, scattered with fabulous feats

~

Leafs numbered carefully, some seemingly fell out-of-order

With twists and turns, good and bad, the best parts always shorter

All are novel, none a fiction, most never to be perused

All first editions on a shelf, most forgotten once they’re used

~

Paper backed or leather clad, short and long, some illustrated

Writ by a single hand, edited by masses, bound and frustrated

All’s a familiar historic tale, all they ever wrote

Copyrights handed down, penned in a marginal note

~

‘Twas a story of a life whose time may now transcend

Whether joyful, sad or demonic – all will be a happy end

~*~

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Getting Up

***

Getting up should be forbid!

It’s too early for a kid.

Hiding not from what I did.

Under blankets – there I hid.

*

If just to sleep late – I would.

And dream all day – I could.

I want sleep, but wake I should.

Getting up is never good.

*

Getting up is what I dread.

Hair is tossed up on my head.

Mouth tastes yucky, eyes red.

Cold piggy’s dangling from bed.

*

Then they’re tickled by my dad.

Got right up but I’m not mad.

Smiles and sunshine bright, I’m glad.

Getting up was not so bad.

*

The End

~

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Write to Dream

I don’t write much about reality

There’s things there I’d rather not see

There’s comfort in a world made of fantasy

There’s no hate, no war, no suffering to be free

~

There’s no false hope of dreams promised you and me

No hearts are ever broken, we are always we

It’s between these sheets of fantasy where I write to be

Where the world’s shared dreams become reality

 ~*~

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Buttons

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Buttons, buttons everywhere,
they’re on this and over there.
They’re on clothes and touch-screens.
They’re on phones and flying machines

They can be found in boxes or jars,
or in neat rows on boats and cars.
Being on the button is good,
pushing people’s, you never should.

Some buttons are big, some are small.
Some buttons do nothing at all,
some are outies others innies,
silly buttons on our bellies.

You may have a cute button nose,
to enjoy the smell of sweet rose.
While buttoned up or buttoned down,
in the rain or strolling in town.

Buttons in all shapes, any size,
having a spare is always wise.
Buttons for eyes on our stuffed friends.
Uses for buttons never ends.

We glue them on paper plates,
making gifts for special dates.
Add string then sprinkle glitter on,
next curly yarn, name in crayon.

Some are toggles, some are switches.
Some like snaps to hold up breeches.
No zippers for me, I prefer,
buttons to hold all together.

Glad to share my buttons with you,
we’re all buttoned up, story through.
Rhyme’s done, time to button my lip,
I’ll say goodbye, have a safe trip.

The End                        sck081414

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/467759

Write On

~

Just an observation

Neither here nor there

Just a little thought

That I’d like to share

~

Having writ now a bit

Logging ups and downs

There seems to be a pattern

That’s shared all around

~

Sometimes juices flow

Pumped with inspiration

Sometime the well is dry

Full of emptiness and frustration

~

Yet on we tread for nothing more

Then another chance to explore

Following our pens, hearts and minds

Where always a tomorrow we will find

~*~

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Paths Move People

We can’t see the future or read the mind.

But with eyes, ears and thinking gears,

there’s much that we can find.

Pages of our lives fanned out in real-time.

Voices of every color sing them out in rhyme.

~

What was is done, will be, just a guess.

Is, is now, lest we digress.

Paths past can follow to haunt and test.

Yet we need only step a little, time gives the rest.

 ~*~

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Poets Bond

~

I want to be a secret agent

Passport full of places went

Double O’Steven will be my name

Deeds done, others to blame

.

Gadgets in kit bond to tell

Code’s sheathed if to dwell

As a writer undercover I’ll be

A life expected in obscurity

.

Armed with poetic license to kill

Never the bullet only the quill

Hearts broken come with the job

Words unspoken said with a sob

.

Cloaked with dagger to stabilize

Bored to tears obscure shaded eyes

Faceless unseen ready to pounce

Heads roll the tales announce

.

Shadowy figures have no fear

When lights on them they disappear

This chapter unknown forever lurks

A page turned another’s in the works

 

~*~

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Little Dudes in my Head

Inward adventures in a cavernous space

Peeking through slits at upside-down space

Bouncing about in a big pile of goo

Any’s too many but none’s too few

~

I can never decide what I should say

I think the little dudes want it that way

They scurry about, finding things I forgot

At times they hide things, they should have not

~

Sometime they edit, sometimes they write

They’re always angry when I turn off the light

Sometimes they’re gone for weeks or more

When they return they’ve much to explore

~

Seldom if ever a good or kind word

I keep my mouth shut so they’re not heard

I scream in a whisper, they lull with a shout

They cause great sorrow but alone I’m without

~

Who’s good or bad is never quite clear

Repercussions of choice is what I fear

A constant tug-of-war, each has a side

I’m in the middle with nowhere to hide

~

Their kicking and screaming can be real bad

But more loyal friends I’ve never had

We all share the pain, though I the blame

We share a laugh that’s never the same

~

It could be worse, or so I’ve been told

I guess I’ll decide when we’re all old

~*~

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Exercise When

~

There was a duck upon the fen,

eyed by a fox in the glen.

Dusk came, the time was then,

but the duck’s alerted by a wren.

~

The hungry fox returned to the den,

the chanced missed for what he does yen.

Morning comes the fox climbs the ben,

from its peak he sees a pen.

~

In this pen the tasty hen,

not just one but eight or ten.

The time was now, if not then when.

The fox is wise, it’s in their ken.

~

Though overlooked, the ken of men,

the fox still hungry but gained some Zen.

~*~

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Mindless Magnification

Sit with me or foe be you
Or stand will I and we be two
Thrust first if it be best
Twist your blade in my chest

`

Who shall be, shall be the test
Thou who not is soon to rest
I care not for what you do
I will win yet so may you

`

To test the will of a giant
Remembered always as defiant
Giants’ losers as always they be
Taking the time from you and me

`

Be this giant if you must
I’m at peace, you can trust
Eye to eye, perspective’s grand
I bear boulders, your grains of sand

`

Stomp, splatter, hurl or squish
Shortened wicks hasten a wish
Wind won’t silence, only time
Death lives on in a world sublime

`

Stand shall I – face to feet
Choice be yours, ends we’ll greet
Choice be quick, I’ve ends to meet
Choice be mine, please take a seat.

~

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