little things

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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Taxation of Tagnation

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

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Easter’s Egging

~*~

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

~*~

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http://www.childrens-stories.net/featured-childrens-story/featured-childrens-story.htm

Springling

Baby’s first spring blooms with joy.
There’s grass for sitting and nature’s their toy.
There are leaves to touch and bugs to see,
flowers to smell and the buzz of a bee.
~
The sun is warm and the sky is blue.
A breeze tickles toes where once a shoe.
Daring they get and start to crawl.
They chase the cat chasing the ball.
~
Mom gets it first and giggles they share.
She tosses the ball high in the air.
Little eyes get rubbed, its naptime soon.
Then there’s lunch on a spring afternoon.

~*~
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Happy Valendumbness Day

Valentine’s Day comes once a year.
It’s the only day of poet fear.
Words flow freely, most every day.
But once a year, I’ve nothing to say.
~
I share my love with dreams and wishes.
And little things, sometimes dishes.
I hold you close and we stick like glue.
Because every day I love you.

~*~
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Foible

Observing a foible in real time,
much longer than a typical rhyme.
The clock’s ticking and time will tell,
will I finish, or, again say Oh well.
~
Time goes through cycles; we all have our own.
We cycle through life; each turn we’ve grown.
Turns’ incomplete, bumps we will feel.
Will I roll to the end or find a new wheel?

~*~
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Spittleiction

Existing in a parallel reality,
stepping in and out unconsciously.
It’s always good when there’s a word,
a word that’s not too, too absurd.
~
Something descriptive for something unknown.
Letters arranged so there are none left alone.
Horizons abound, three-sixty and more.
Infinite options with only one door.
~
In and out realities converge,
yet this moment’s word yet to emerge.
Thoughts divided twixt hither and yon,
Yin and Yang got up and gone.
~
The quest getting long, parallels evade,
as does reality, mind’s left unmade.
My word yet forthcoming, my tongue tip awaits.
Desire’s strong, my hook salivates.

~*~
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the End

If perfection could be found,
is it in or above the ground.
Or in the air or in the sea,
it could be you, not likely me.
~
Does it make a sound, or does it smell?
If found, might I say, “Oh well.”
Is it the same for one and all,
is it big or is it small?
~
Question’s many, quests never end.
Clues abound but truth can bend.
Eyes perceive a painter’s stroke,
meaning safe in a canvas cloak.
~
Circles run in boxes made,
glasses worn throwing shade.
Seekers sought surely stun.
Perfection is: never done.

~*~
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Snowflakes

 If no two snowflakes are the same,

When melted do they come back again?

How do all the storm clouds know,

What each other makes for snow?

 **

Though thought all different, ingredients same

Freely floating flakes, cousins of rain

Minuscule crystals suspended in lines

Destiny’s same – the kiss of sunshine

 *

Just another of natures’ follies, like we all

The higher the cloud, the faster the fall

The longer the blizzard, the deeper the strife

The hotter the day, the shorter the life

 .

Do we really care if snowflakes are the same?

Or are we just repeating an old silly game?

A game that can never ever be won –

When all the pieces melt in the sun

~*~

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Ribbons and Bows

The season is upon us,
Christmas is almost here.
Trees are going up,
lights are everywhere.
~
Stores are getting crowded,
traffic’s now a mess.
Shoppers fill the streets,
more than I would guess.
~
Some lists are getting shorter,
mine has far to go.
But no time to worry,
I hope it doesn’t snow!
~
Kids are getting excited;
they know the day is near.
Adults too are frazzled,
overwhelmed by all the cheer.
~
There’re stockings to be filled,
then stockings to explore.
Goodies there are waiting,
a welcome end for sure.

~*~
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A Gift of Sixty-Four

Fancy wrap can’t hide from my eyes,

A gift that’s familiar in shape and size.

It’s the present that I adore.

They’re the toy that’s never a bore.

*

They’re a box of possibilities,

a forest full of Christmas trees.

A blanket of snow and garlands bright,

with a flicker of lights in the night.

*

They’re singing birdies just for me,

or a sailing ship on a stormy sea.

They’re autumn play and a summer breeze,

the colors of spring and buzzing bees.

*

With this one gift I’ll need no-more.

It’s a box of sixty-four!

There are colors for sad and more for glad.

They’re all perfect and none are bad.

*

What endless choices to be found.

But what is the color of sound?

What is the color of a kiss?

I’ll someday find those colors amiss.

*

They’re jewels in a treasure chest.

Something shared with a special guest.

We draw and print or color books,

while snuggled in our secret nooks.

*

I’m glad they float, though labels’ lost.

Nothing left to be peeled and tossed.

Then guides are gone for shades unknown.

But I’ll know them all, when I’m grown.

*

My cat swats greens under my bed.

My dog’s favorite to eat is red.

We all roll fast and giggle for more.

When they’re like bearings on the floor.

*

We build rainbows to the sky.

Stacked like logs to make towers high.

We lose the ones we like the best.

Then have extras of all the rest.

*

They’re a gift that’s always welcome.

They’re used up quick or saved by some.

Look what Harold did with just one.

My sixty-four are much more fun.

*

Stored neat in a box with a lid that flips,

and a hole on the back to sharpen tips.

Enough to share with all my friends,

we can draw a line that never ends.

*

Though mostly used sparingly,

tucked safe in a drawer, just for me.

They somehow seem to go away.

And just in time for Christmas day.

*

The End

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The Gift That Keeps Giving

(rated R)

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! That’s all I gotta say

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! It’s almost Christmas day

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! Yea – Santa’s on his way

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! I hope he doesn’t stay

*

Christmas last year was our first as newlyweds

Our little home smoky with burnt gingerbreads

Rooms festively strewn and splattered with glitter

The kind of memories that’ll be around forever

 *

His reindeer chomped topiary, displayed in my backyard

Now I have to lie and say it’s really avant-garde

Rudolph took a shining to a bright-eyed decoration

Now he’s singing high notes from electrical castration

*

I also saw Santa smooch my wife under mistletoe

Not a friendly peck but a kiss, deep and slow

I’m ready for him this year, cameras everywhere

I’ll edit-out tomorrow, things I shouldn’t share

*

My lovely mate now fast asleep, safe in our cozy room

Windows shuttered tight, door wedged with a broom

While plump little Nicki slumbers soundly in her cradle

It’s now time for me to prepare, egg-nog, cups and ladle

 *

Plus a special surprise for Santa, it’s sure to be a hoot

I long to see his rosy cheeks when slapped with a paternity suit

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! I’ve one last thing to say

Ho, Ho, Ho to all and have a very merry holiday

 *

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Spooky House

At the end of my street, quite near,

Sits the source of all that I fear.

Now a horror, once a jewel,

I run fast on my way to school.

`

Looms alone behind a high wall,

Watching me pass, the house sees all.

Hidden by trees most of the year.

But when fall comes so does my fear.

`

Autumn leaves drop, crunch under feet.

Out pops the house that haunts our street.

Halloween comes, chill in the air.

But trick-or-treaters won’t go there.

`

Lights never on, no cars in drive.

Shades always down, nothing alive.

I’ve heard stories, sounds in the night.

Of the house that causes our fright.

`

The shutters bang and hinges creak.

But no one dare to take a peek.

Many a ball lost over the gate.

Remember the score, game can wait!

`

Spooky shadows in the moonlight.

Ghostly shapes in the dark of night.

The vines on the porch creep and crawl.

Been scaring kids since mom was small.

`

Bats in attic, mice in the shed,

Phantoms inside or so it’s said.

Some say it’s empty, some say not.

Either way I’m worried a lot.

`

Off to bed one dreary fall night.

A bad time to turn off the light.

Mom tucks me in, we chat awhile.

She kissed my cheek, left with a smile.

`

My sleepy smile soon fades to fear.

When spooky house dreams soon appear.

I close my eyes and try to sleep,

Ran out of numbers counting sheep.

`

Outside shadows all a quiver.

Howling winds making me shiver.

I peeked from under my blanket,

The darkness said no sunrise yet.

`

I turned on the light to just wait.

For morning to come, that’ll be great.

Awoke to good news, called my friend.

Our sleepless nights where soon to end.

`

Someone bought the spooky old place.

Hopes to restore its former grace.

House got painted, bushes cut down.

What a great home, what a great town.

`

Windows fixed fresh grass on the ground,

Sunshine and flowers all around.

New families in, kids galore.

And I’m not afraid anymore.

`

We play in the yard, ride the swing.

We make up rhymes for us to sing.

Now my favorite place to be.

But once I thought the house spooky.

`

The End

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Holinight

Pumpkins on the steps,
gravestones on the lawn,
ghouls dancing in the yard.
Keep out before the dawn!
~
Soon it will be the day,
my favorite of the year.
Kids running in the streets,
we’ve treats we love to share.
~
Don’t forget the costumes,
this year I’m a queen.
Mom gave me her wig,
and dad’s not too keen.
~
My brother is a cowboy,
he’s the same every time.
He likes to wear the badge;
in case there is a crime.
~
My dog wears a bow,
it’s black for Halloween.
His bark is really scary,
but he’s never really mean.
~
We’ll go out after supper,
when the sun is going down.
We’ll meet up with a friend;
she just moved into town.
~
I showed her the best streets;
our bags could hold no more.
We all then hurried home,
we didn’t miss a door.
~
Mom will sort our treats;
my brother plays his tricks.
I save the licorice,
and dad likes a mix.

~*~
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Halloween Triku II

I

All Hollows’ Eve

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Ghost’s haunt, zombies flaunt,

monsters walk with you and I.

Sun’s rise all will die.

~

II

Tricky Treat

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Full moon, rustling feet,

Trick-or-treaters rule the street.

Sweet tithes strangers greet.

~

III

Sweet Irony

.

What’s the best and worst

of a great Halloween glut?

Death by chocolate!

~*~

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Manually Automatic

Time, it would seem, an abstract.
It’s different for everyone.
For some time’s abundant.
While others get nothing done.
~
Clocks all look the same,
calendars do as well.
The sun and moon have a path,
their effect’s clear as a bell.
~
Yet most, most often rushing,
I know I’ve done my share.
Not sure it made a difference,
not sure anyone would care.
~
Eventually time is won,
a token of our age.
Perspective’s ever-changing,
the winding’s ours to gage.

~*~
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Startin’

Oh, what to do, oh what to do?
My day is free, and the sky is blue.
There’s chores to do, my list is long.
My old guitar needs a new song.
~
I’ve coffee for sippin’, a chair for sittin’,
and that morning sun’s warmin’ my heart.
The birds are singin’ and peace it’s bringin’,
so far, a mesmerizin’ start.

~*~
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Sleepy Town

Dusk shrouds foggy walks
Whispers heard when no one talks
The old town hall shines felicity
Its library shares the pageantry

Main Street bristles with conspicuous zeal
Spirits roam unseen when unreal
Tales abound of young maidens kissed
Faces unknown for souls unmissed

Yarns be spun of their tiny cove
Time surrounds, the mind does rove
Behind every door lie stories untold
Life in a village three hundred years old

High on the hill sits a Queen Anne alone
She’s peaks of copper and footing of stone
Her windows boarded to hide the view
Abandoned by the town, seen by few

The home once a school for wayward boys
Most had no families, none knew of toys
A cagey couple was completely in charge
Both small in stature yet looming large

The mistress taught letters with pointer or switch
The master kept numbers making them rich
Gruel’s fed to the students, the master’s meat
The boys froze; the pair warmed by their heat

Ablaze was the furnace ahead of each storm
The lads safely locked in their cold attic dorm.
Their sniffles and sneezes all kept at bay
The masters swept all the sickness away

Each year had runaways, never to be found
Searches end at the edge of school ground
Then came a young man sheltered in error
He promptly escaped and reported the terror

Inquires made, investigations were had
The masters left freely, the mayor glad
The school was closed with little fanfare
The boys sent away with little a care

Rumors lost from days long past
Horrors are hidden all too fast
No more’s said of the young boys plight
And another sun sets on a sleepy town’s night

~*~

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