Rebirth
Leaves turn – time to go
Slowly green morphs to yellow
A new tomorrow
Learning
Seasons come and go
Thanks for the wonderful show
Something new to know
The End
I hear the truck roar
Destruction’s outside my door
But trash is no more
Sck082914
~
Horrors penned in tomes of fear
Words unseen in a shadows lair
Forever night when cover’s tight
Wings blossom in morning light
Rolling stones gathering moss
When time renders motions loss
Unknown saints wear heavy cross
Unbound future our only boss
Times absorbed in a sponge
Fills the well to take the plunge
Return from pleasure, pre-desire
Or the heat of ice and frozen fire
Air-less caverns running swift
Bloodied quill the only gift
Flightless birds soaring high
Pages fluttering in endless sky
Spiraling upward for the crest
Touching down – needed rest
Sleepless specter, broken spine calls back
Ink floods lines, sheets fill black
Dark and light fill lengthy fall
Return we must to journey’s all
To do what’s right, a writers call
Recording all, big and small
~*~
sck101614
~
I like wheels – that’s what I like.
Cars or trucks or a motor bike,
wheels make me smile and grin.
Some wheels spin in wind on a pin.
~
I wish I had wheels on my feet.
Then I can zoom down the street.
Up the ramp and flying high,
wheeling through the open sky.
~
I wish I had wheels on my chair.
I could get things way over there.
I could scoot in my stocking feet.
Or reach things high standing on seat.
~
Wheels go round and round in my head.
I wish I had wheels on my bed.
Then I can drive to all my dreams.
Win all the races, hear crowd screams.
~
In the garage, my wheels parked there.
Soon I’ll be out, wind in my hair.
First kick tires, adjust the seat.
Polish the chrome isn’t she sweet.
~
Check the mirror so I can see,
everything – way behind me.
Yes – riding fast is what I like.
On all three wheels of my trike.
~*~
The End
sck091114
~
Bright sunny day, nothing to do.
Stuck at home in bed with the flu.
Watched TV as long as I could.
And did some homework, like I should.
.
I tossed and I turned, sipped some tea.
The warm fall day was mocking me.
Temperature stable, chills no more.
Then a knock on my bedroom door.
.
It was mom come to check my head.
Not hot or cold, then out of bed.
I passed her test, done with my rest.
Going outside will be the best.
.
But that is not to be the way.
Had to stay in another day.
Picked at supper, slept through TV.
Dad tucked me in then read to me.
.
Just to make sure that I’m all right.
Mom checked on me all the long night.
Slept Okay, woke ready to go.
But to do what I didn’t know.
.
Was really bored by midday.
Ran out of things alone to play.
Then found a key looking for more.
I tried every single door.
.
I checked and checked every lock.
I even tried the grandfather clock.
Every drawer, box and chest,
I checked them all, I did my best.
.
Found no treasure, just this old key.
At least it was something to amuse me.
With just minutes before my show,
Thought of another place to go.
.
The dusty, dark, spooky attic,
No place to be, when you are sick.
Turning the knob ever so slow,
Not sure if I wanted to go.
.
I’ve never been up there alone.
Then opened the door to the unknown.
Creaky stairs beneath my cold feet.
Dangers unknown that I might meet.
.
Darkness at the top of the stair.
Felt for the switch, I hoped was near.
With a flick my fear gone away.
More to explore on my sick day!
.
Much the same as when last here,
Boxes and cobwebs everywhere.
But not a lock to be found.
I searched and searched all around.
.
But in a dark corner never seen,
A little door painted green.
It had no slot for any key.
Opening it was up to me.
.
I admit I was very scared.
I stood for minutes and just stared.
Then lifting the latch, my hands shake.
Could this be another mistake?
.
Opened the door, hinges squeak.
Stuck in my head to take a peek.
The room’s empty, nothing at all,
Except a shelf high on a wall.
.
Found an old wobbly chair nearby.
Standing worried, reaching too high.
Pulled down the box hidden on shelf.
More than ever proud of myself.
.
I put in my key and it fit.
But wasn’t ready to open it.
I brought the box back to my room.
Into the light and out of the gloom.
.
Box on desk, took key from pocket.
Put it in slot, turned to unlock it.
Opened the lid ever so slow.
Not sure if I wanted to know.
.
What treasures lie hidden from view?
Something good or a pile of goo.
Lid half-open, footsteps I hear.
Then closed the lid when mom came near.
.
Mom opened it up, said to me;
“That’s no place for a dragon to be.
I’ve looked high and low, all over,
For the dragon Gramp’s called Rover.
.
He wasn’t a creative guy.
But could pluck dragons from the sky.
But only when they’re very small,
Safe in hand and curled in a ball.
.
Then hid for a terrible day,
When there are demons to chase away.
You can visit, never at night,
That’s when dragons grow, in moonlight.
.
So keep it tiny in its box –
Or they get huge and tough as rocks.
Some are sweet, most others mean.
That’s why it best to keep unseen.”
.
Closed the lid before I could see.
She turned the lock and kept my key.
“You don’t need to go by yourself.
Attic’s safe with dragon on shelf.
.
Put the box back and close the door.
And try not to think of it anymore.”
Back downstairs, ready for bed.
But now there’s a dragon in my head.
.
They can be all colors or shapes,
Some are purple and round like grapes.
Some are short, some tall as a tree,
Some are small and cute just like me.
.
I’m glad there’s a dragon upstairs.
Now I can sleep without nightmares.
Not such a bad sick day at all.
I got better and had a ball.
.
Now when nothing to do or see.
I don’t have to search for a key.
You don’t need keys to unlock a door.
That’s what imagination’s for.
~*~
The End
sck092414
It’s not just a bin for dirty clothes.
It’s a place to hide things where no one goes.
My favorite place for hide and seek.
No one ever dares to take a peek.
~
I could stay in there for a week,
But that’s too long not to speak.
And if I never change my clothes,
My hamper never fills, the pile never grows.
~
My hamper can be a chest for treasure.
With extra socks just for good measure.
Hampers are never quite big enough.
Always too small for all of your stuff.
~
The bigger the hamper the less room they take.
Fill it right up and room you’ll make.
Some hampers are big, some are small.
Some are just piles, some not there at all.
~
Some might have handles, liners or lids.
Some come with gadgets to keep out kids.
Hampers never hamper or get in the way.
They’re used for something each and every day.
~
Mostly an eyesore, mostly unseen.
Hidden in bedrooms, bathrooms or in-between.
They can be baskets or made of wood.
Plastic or metal but a bag’s just as good.
~
Hampers are magic – things disappear.
Then surprise, something old will be there.
A best friend to have on clean-up day.
They help to decide what can and can’t stay.
~
They can be luggage when away from home.
The smaller they get the further you roam.
Sometime my hamper is what I long to see,
A familiar moonlit shadow that keeps me company.
~
My hamper can be a rocket ship,
There’s always space for a lengthy trip.
Or submarine to explore the sea,
It can be anything; it’s up to me.
~
Some hampers have wheels for delicate dears.
Though not much help on dark cellar stairs.
They can be a target or a catcher’s mitt.
Or a moldy archive for clothes that don’t fit.
~
Sometime it sits lonely, quiet as a mouse.
Sometime screaming loudly – stinking up the house.
My companion always since I was very small.
The stories it could tell, we really had a ball.
~
If you’re sad or a little mad, I’ll share a secret trick.
Visit your trusty hamper and give it a little kick.
My hamper and I put on shows; I hope you all will come.
I sing and dance; make up tunes, my hamper’s the drum.
~
Sometimes hampers break, a leaning twisted thing,
Thrown away with no regard to all the joy they bring.
Replaced by a new one with very lofty goals.
Someday we might be friends when it gets some holes.
~
Whether sparse or cramped you need not have a fear,
The voids will always fill when imagination’s there.
Oh – I could wax poetically until the end of time.
But hampers full, its laundry day, time to end this rhyme.
~*~
sck081914dft
The time of the day that’s bittersweet.
Resting our heads, eyes and feet.
Day’s not over much left to do.
Watch TV or go to the zoo.
~
I’m not tired, it’s not too late.
Just a few hours, that’ll be great.
I’ll clean my room, music down low.
Fold some laundry, put on a show.
~
So many things better than sleep,
Reading a book, taking a leap.
Or have a snack by candlelight.
Why must we always waste our night?
~
I’m not ready for bedtime yet.
I might miss things that I’ll regret.
Things are missed when you close your eyes.
Can’t see stars or watch the sunrise.
~
If nights awake I’d sleep all day.
I’ll have no time for friends or play.
I guess if there’s a choice to make –
I’ll sleep at night, spend day awake.
~
The End
*
sck091614
I woke today – weatherman lied.
I rolled over and I sighed.
Couldn’t sleep, eyes open wide.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
There’ll be no swing set or slide.
There’ll be no walk or bike ride.
There’ll be no kites to be flied.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
Today we have to play inside.
We’ll think of things never tried.
Stocking feet on floors we’ll glide.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
We’ll build a fort for us to hide.
We’ll play dress up – you be bride.
Explore jungles – I’ll be guide.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
Time to dig a path that’s wide.
Getting dressed, boot laces tied.
Wind so stingy I almost cried.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
All’s warm, coats hung to be dried.
Find crayons, colors I’ve eyed.
Draw pictures for the fridge with pride.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
Icy world all is gray sky-ed.
Plants droopy, looks like they died.
Bay frozen we’ll see no tide.
It’s too cold to go outside.
~
Now sleep, teddies at my side.
Cold nights end, take it in stride.
Spring soon then winter we’ll chide.
When not too cold to go outside.
~*~
sck092414
My pencil in hand – mind set free
Erasing the chains binding me
Safe in my world of poetry
A better friend there cannot be
No rhyme or reason there’s to flee
No shackles of society
No meter of conformity
No question of sincerity
No judge, jury or guilty plea
No door can stop my slender key
I’ll wander through infinity
Another side of life’s journey
Draw lines that know no boundary
Return with words for all to see
Arrange them well – create beauty
Then thank my little piece of tree
The End sck081514
Birthday Cake-
Candles blaze, wax pools.
Sugar glazed time on a dish.
Slices of life shared.
Familiar Paths-
Life’s familiar path:
Birth, growth, love, toil and refresh,
relax and recall.
Birthday Wish-
They said “Make a wish”
I wish it not my birthday.
WAIT! – Nope! – didn’t work.
Sck101460
Waking each day before sunrise
Clear yesterday’s fog from today’s eyes
Good and bad laid bare for all too see
The clocks delicate hands controlling me
Pump caffeine and nicotine into my veins
To the roads ever-changing lanes
Dodging the many obstacles’ of life
Dreaming of home, child and wife
The destiny of modern man
Selling our souls for all we can
But soon returning home to love and family
Reminded that the best things in life are free
Sck091514
I sweat it when I don’t write
I sweat it when I do
I’m glad I can swim
Or I’d sweat drowning too
~
Sck042715
Daddy, daddy come quick and see.
There are big eyes staring at me.
In the window there, can you see?
It’s a kitty looking back at me.
.
Please can we keep her, can we please?
I’ll wash her good if there are fleas.
We gave her some milk on a plate.
It seemed like hours I had to wait.
.
Then mom came home, was kitty there?
Yes! – She’s napping on the porch chair.
Mom and dad had a little chat.
They called me in and there I sat.
.
Hoped to hear we have a new pet.
“First” they said “a trip to the vet”
“Vet” I said “whatever is that?”
They said “a doctor for your cat.”
.
Found a box, she fit just right.
Curled in a towel ” out of sight.
Into the car and off we go.
To a new place I didn’t know.
.
Never been to a vet before.
Many new things behind the door.
There’s lots of cats and dogs of course.
But shocked to see a tiny horse.
.
Saw a snake and a talking bird.
Said some words I’ve never heard.
The vet was fun just like the zoo.
But I was glad when we were through.
.
We brought her home, she disappeared.
Hid under the bed like mom feared.
To get her out we had a plan.
Gave her some tuna from a can.
.
That didn’t work, mom tried a trick.
She tied some yarn on a long stick.
I wiggled the yarn on the floor.
We saw a paw and then two more.
.
Next was a tail than furry head.
Now she’s out from under my bed.
Gave her a scratch as she ran past.
To the new food she ate too fast.
.
We gave her some time to explore.
She made a big mess on the floor.
Dad cleaned it up, almost got sick.
Mom finished the job; I said “Ick!”
.
And when done we all had a laugh.
Thankful our cat wasn’t a calf.
Then made a list for a quick shop.
A litter box was at the top.
.
Boxes and bags of this and that,
Much was needed for our new cat.
While we were out dad took a nap.
Our new kitty curled on his lap.
.
She woke with a stretch and a purr.
Licking her paws and stripey fur.
Dad woke next and was surprised.
By his new friend’s big sleepy eyes.
.
He cuddled her close, scratched her ears.
Mom smiled, I thought I saw tears.
Then we all had a good giggle.
Watching kitty twist and wiggle.
.
Mom picked her up, gave her a hug.
Put her down gently on the rug.
The cutest thing I ever did see.
But what to call my new kitty?
.
She’ll be Alesha, our cat “A”.
Like in the book I read today.
By a doctor who wrote fun rhymes.
I’ve read them all oodles of times.
.
Now’s time to sleep, our day is done.
I hope tomorrows just as fun.
Tucked in bed, Alesha and me.
Soon to dream of little cat “B”.
.
The End
sck080314
.
Available at: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/468855
Colors abound, many unseen
Warm, cold and in between
Good, neutral or just plain mean
Perfectly flat or ultra-high sheen
Blackness paints the hue of night
Shades of gray fill the light
Morning comes all is bright
Gaze the sun all is white
Breathe deep, share the haste
Air fresh or full of waste
Seas of warmth or frigid ice
Hairs of decision some with lice
A spectrum of options everyday
Wheels and dials all have their say
Black or white, shades of gray
But choose we must somehow, some way.
The End
Sck081514
If life begins at birth we know of no tomorrows.
If life begins at ten we know of no ends.
If life begins at twenty there’s still time a plenty.
If life begins at thirty it’s time to get flirty.
If life begins at forty it’s time to get naughty.
If life begins at fifty it’s getting kind of iffy.
If life begins at sixty, then have yourself a ball.
If life begins at seventy you had no life at all.
If life begins at eighty than you better take it easy.
If life begins at ninety then better you than me.
If life begins at a century it’s a life most never see.
Every days a surprise, every tomorrow’s a bet.
It doesn’t matter where you start, it’s how far you get.
The End
Sck082714
|
Soon it’s fall, but first back to school, days getting shorter, nights get cool. Then the winter and with it snow, wrapping the world in its glow.
We’ll build forts, make balls to throw. So many things to do in the snow, sledding and skiing, rolling in white. Hoping for more snow every night. Morning’s good news, stay home from class. Fun things to do with time to pass, make a snowman with rocks for eyes, that see’s all in cold winter skies.
We’ll stay in and play or just talk. Then shovel a long path to walk, to the street though nowhere to go. Everything’s closed because of the snow. Crusty piles; high, dirty and gray, wetter and smaller each new day. Snowman’s withered, springs on the way, time to make up for our snow day. Waking one morning, snow’s no more, instead there’s flowers by my door. Springs arrived and welcome by all, summers next and followed by fall Like the seasons our life goes round. Searching for answers already found. Around and around we all go, waiting for summer then for snow. * The End sck091514 |
If Jesus had a gun there’d be no Christianity.
If Jesus had a say he’d end this insanity.
But if you choose to play this deadly game.
Choose when “shall not” and “might not” are the same?
.
But maker if there be will decide who won.
Prizes to be: peace or the heat of the sun.
To not fear is to fear not the end.
To fear is to violently defend.
.
Some will kill with vigor.
Some hesitate to pull the trigger.
But a trigger’s pulled either way,
Just another death, another day.
.
This loss of life is no one’s gain.
To lose ourselves with altered brain,
Strap on our cloaks of invincibility.
Defy the bonds of sensibility.
.
Children pass and mothers cry.
The bad guy’s always the other guy.
But math doesn’t lie,
Too many people die.
.
There’s some that do, some that don’t.
There’s some that will, some that won’t.
Can there be willingness without desire?
Lines too thin burn easily in fire.
.
If Jesus had a second shot,
Would he take it? – I think not.
I’ll end this quiz with a wish – not long,
For those of you that pray. – Pray I’m wrong. .
The End
Sck082814
My world is quite small as you can see,
holds fewer monsters that’ll scare me.
Though they’re there, under bed too,
in the mirror they see you!
~
Outside, you know, they’re everywhere.
They happily haunt without a care.
With unwanted visits, I’m never alone.
These monster’s I fear are all my own.
~
Lurking weighty on shadowy shelves,
they’re all the weaknesses of ourselves.
All reminders of what we’re not.
That’s why monsters scare us a lot
~
The End
*
Sck101614
While riding today on my swing,
I heard a song and started to sing.
It’s an outside song, inside not heard,
beetles clicking with a chirping bird.
*
In the wood wind blows through the trees.
Back-up came from the buzzing bees.
Keeping the beat atop a log,
bass was played by a croaking frog.
*
My little dog barked but not too loud.
My kitty cat danced and meowed.
It’s nature’s band and I will sing,
soaring high on my backyard swing.
~*~
SCK092114
Colorless leaf crackle beneath sole-less feet.
The smell of death lingers sweet.
Bramble thick draws blood on paper skin,
digging more deeply the deeper within.
*
Then starlight fades to the darkness I fear,
moonlight shadows disappear.
Columns abound supporting endless night,
numbers multiply consuming the light.
*
Welcome dew hangs heavy in unseen air,
to drink deep I do not dare.
Outstretched hands replace teary useless eyes.
Senses heightened, alert of endless cries.
*
Vibrations of night; soft, loud, far and near,
distant from all, we all hold dear.
Wanting now only to curl-up and weep,
my soul is still for the sickle to reap.
*
Return to the path I lost yesterday,
blackness turns slowly to gray.
Long nights journey in the forest of hell,
surviving again, except for my shell.
*
The End
*
SKittell c.2014
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