poetry

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

 *

Sck042625

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

~*~

Sck071615

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

~

Sck092314

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

 ~*~

Sck060115

Sonnet Undone

Take from me this simple band of gold,
walk with me while we both grow old.
Hand in hand our souls inline,
I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine.

In your eyes time does melt,
returning to where love first felt.
Journey’s skyward of life excelled,
when two is one heart beats meld.

Tears and hugs and laughter shared,
stealing kisses whenever dared.
Fate and luck met at the Last Call,
boundless futures in a crystal ball.

A blues band played, forgotten ironically.
Memories are golden because nothing’s free.

*
sck040917

Poultry Dreams

In the name of man’s greed and chicken feed,
a farmer hatched his scheme to succeed.
He’d create a chicken with numerous wings.
Then, he too, could soar with the like’s kings.
~
Wings sell well but they sell way too cheap.
But if he had more the more he would reap.
He mortgaged his house and sold his truck.
He kept his old dog who brought him luck.
~
His wife kicked him out to sleep in the hay.
The breeding was started the very next day.
Time quickly passed and soon it was a year.
Most thought him a fool, although sincere.
~
With a cock-a-doodle-do he rose with the sun.
The day would be his, full of pride, joy and fun.
He sprinted to the house to fetch his ex-wife,
who had recently remarried to start a new life.
~
They walked to the barn, after some yelling.
The closer they got the more they were smelling.
With the odor intense, the farmer opened the door.
And with one big swoosh his hopes were no more.
~
His most wonderous chickens all flew the coop.
And the poor farmer left with only their poop.
The lesson of course being evolution’s not a race.
And those who disbelieve get egg on their face.

~*~
SCK041324

Buttons

buttons_steve~kittell_01

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

Conflux

Tomorrow’s here and faraway.
Yesterday’s done yet here to stay.
Life, it seems, seems to move on,
seemingly endless until it’s gone.
~
Forward we tread to catch the wave,
treading water into the grave.
Thoughts consumed, distraction prevails.
Future plans are always heads or tails.
~
Missteps many, disappointments abound.
A fool sought is easily found.
But today is now and now I know.
Today’s the day I must grow.
~
Try I must to try much more.
Life’s our purpose not a chore.
The fool I’ll be if not to persist.
Get with the flow or the flow gets missed.

~*~
SCK050522

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

~*~

sck032316

Four See a Poet Well

Dive deep into this poets well

Rise with weighty, weedy shell

Float atop seas warm and clear

Drown in waves of icy despair

.

To the heavens soaring high

Gravity wins in darkened sky

Climb a ladder to emerge

Swim alone I do not urge

.

Forever shaken out to dry

Life is ripped with tear in eye

Lips conform to truth or lies

Four see and hear no silent cries

.

Poets tend to dive too soon

Writes tomorrows under moon

Sees a future without a past

Writes first, questions last

.

Boards to spring, slides to climb

Empty wells all fill in time

Time gives, takes and lends its hands

Turning forever in shifting sands

.

A place alone when hot

Vibrant when others not

A place that’s cooler than hell

Welcome all to a poets well

*

Sck102914

Alesha the Cat

Alesha_poem_skittell

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

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.

 ~*~

Sck053015

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

 

~*~

sck042116

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

~*~

  Sck072515

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.

~*~

sck051916