Hannahbelle’s Folly

Welcome back to Hannahbelle’s folly

where dreams broken yet most stayed jolly.

The factory was shut, tourist didn’t stay,

the impatient grew impatient for a better day.

Most old town folk not wanting to go

agreed to a change in the Hannahbelle show.

Their now was the present, past’s time of old,

the gooey center betwixt is this tale told.

It starts with Charlie, who lacked business sense.

All money made was but half his expense.

Having won the factory therefore the town,

he became a fair leader, albeit a clown.

Yet a kinder soul there could never be.

All hungers fed, anytime, always free.

The workers prospered with newfound wealth,

not only from raises but dental and health.

The village glistened, all gloom washed away.

Their Renaissance grew brighter each passing day.

Charlie married soon after, a remarkable bride,

their love for each other they couldn’t hide.

Hannahbelle followed within that same year.

She’s properly pampered and handled with care.

By noble decree the eldest of elders proclaimed;

In honor of Charlie the towns to be renamed.

A contest was held to find the best name.

Most of the entries were all the same.

The town’s new name was Hannahbelleville,

from miles around people came for the thrill.

With towers of brick placed one at a time

all topped with a bell for the hourly chime.

The windows sparkled, doors welcomed all.

Just step right in and we’ll all have a ball.

Neat lines form long to be part of the show.

There are twists and turns wherever you go.

A bib and bags are given free at the door

to save what’s left for when you want more.

Ponchos welcome but most haven’t a care,

sweet diversions are why they’re all here.

Where chocolate waterfalls splash at their base,

what a tasty surprise to the passerby’s face.

There are also cakes, cookies and candies galore.

There’s shirts and hats at the little gift store.

The shelves always stocked, but not for long,

their prices are good so sales are strong.

On paper everything seemed OK.,

until a new town sprouted across the bay.

This new town was grander, factory too.

They stole Charlie’s recipes, yet he hadn’t a clue.

They built a new park with rides big and small.

It’s better than Hannahbelles that had none at all.

The competition soon became bold and brutal.

The rivals charged half for twice the strudel!

Though Charlie’s reluctant to change his way,

he worked all the harder without any pay.

Then Hannahbelle’s tuition became overdue,

not just one term but quite a few.

She’d have to go home without a degree.

The long spring stretched, she worked as three.

Side by side the little family all toiled.

Cooking and cleaning and keeping things oiled.

Summer arrived and thoughts were blooming.

She had to think fast, payday was looming.

Then a plan was hatched to save the day.

She called her classmates to all have a say.

Her idea was shared to change their fates.

The chefs and chemists mixed heated debates.

Mathematicians integrated their permutations.

The statisticians juggled interpolations.

The engineers tinkered to make all precise.

Artist’s flourished to make all look nice.

A manager’s needed to book weekend bands.

Then there’s the overhead and two hired hands.

There are taxes, tariffs and hidden fees.

We’ve a lawyer’s retained to shoot the breeze.

Bankers were safe with their calculations.

The accountants left to balance frustrations.

Our writers wrote slogans, jingles and ads.

Their pieces placed in papers for new I.T. grads.

A final test given for last minute tweaks.

Then code was input by computer geeks.

The output emerged and everyone’s thrilled.

Soon teeth and tummies both less filled.

It’ll be safe to consume whenever you please.

They’ll never melt and cannot freeze.

There’s no a messy wrappers or sticky streets.

When enjoying the new Hannahbelle binary treats.

Though you will need a dongle for a spare port,

to call up our server of cheese mocha torte.

You can try any flavor you think to choose,

try them all, there’s nothing to loose

We’ve green apple slush and warm fuzzy peach.

There’s seven billion in all, that’s one for each.

Just fill in the form and enter your pin.

Sit back, relax and let the digiconfection begin.

Pay what you can, take what you need.

The business is sweet without any greed.

And after all the bills are paid,

what’s left is ours; it’s what we’ve made.

What was made is what we make.

What Hannahbelle makes icing on her cake.

Hannahbelles treats now second to none,

without competition you’ve already won.

And as the creator of all that’s digiconfectionary,

she’s thought now to be a true visionary.

A university was founded, tuition’s free.

Hannahbelle was first to earn a degree.

Soon she was mayor of Hannahbelleville.

She could serve for life and probably will.

The company grew large, built in its niche.

Everyone did well, though no one got rich.

Hannahbelle shares all her profits and good will.

So all ends happily in Hannahbelleville.

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Leftie Tighty Righty Loosey

Are you the me that I can’t see?
Or I you, one half of two?
If but one, who then are you?
If you’re the one, what’s to do?
~
I’m confused, both conned and fused.
We share a body, everything’s used.
We’ve got hands and feet, both left and right.
We have two eyes that see the same light.
~
But our sides divided, never to agree.
Perhaps a split, each then free.
I think you should go and create a new life.
I feel it best you leave, be done with this strife.
~
The battle goes on, both being stuck.
Each barely manages without some luck.
I did have an end to make all laugh and shout.
But then the editor took the good stuff out.
~
The Middle

~*~
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Gurmumble

His name was Gurmumble,
or so it was said.
Gurmumble’s the sound,
comes out of his head.
~
Ask him a question,
anything you choose.
Gurmumble, he’d answer,
looking down at his shoes.
~
Gurmumble was teased,
folks called him a freak.
But he’s actually, quite normal,
he just couldn’t speak.
~
High School was soon starting,
Gurmumble was rightly scared.
The building was enormous,
much bigger than he feared.
~
His first week was horrible,
he’s a target to be teased.
Gurmumble was unfazed,
the bullies left displeased.
~
Come fall his novelty waned,
Gurmumble was now free.
Excelling at his studies,
he had a learning spree.
~
By Spring Gurmumble’s smitten,
but he couldn’t say a word.
So, he wrote his crush a poem,
the prettiest she’d ever heard.
~
He wrote her a poem each day,
awaiting her response.
And when she finally smiled,
it was Gurmumble’s Renaissance.
~
All the girls were swooning;
the boys were just confused.
Gurmumble’s now a star,
no longer feeling abused.
~
His poems now sung as songs,
Gurmumble plays guitar.
His loving girlfriend sings,
I’m sure they’re going far.

~*~
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Playhouse

~

I built a playhouse, just for me.

I worked all morning, come and see.

It’s now just finished, just today.

So come on over and we’ll play.

*

My house has windows and a door.

It’ll fit bunches of kids and more.

We’ll plant a garden on the side.

Bush in the back for us to hide.

*

There’s a place for table and chairs.

To color books, build things with gears.

There’s little stairs to go up high.

Peek out the window touch the sky.

*

Cook in the kitchen, clean when done.

The rest of the day we’ll have fun.

Can’t leave crumbs for a pesky mouse.

Then it’ll be the mouse’s playhouse.

*

My house can be a boat with sail.

Or castle in a fairy tale.

A haunted house that is a scare.

Or just a place for friends to share.

*

If you don’t have your own “me space”.

You can make one, just pick a place.

Surround with imagination.

Then fill it up with friends and fun.

*

The End

~

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Besties Besting

Silence heard before the dawn.
Birds awaken, silence gone.
Sun arisen, cars zoom past.
Morning bliss’s fading fast.
~
Breathing in each other’s air,
day’s begun, time to share.
Faces flash, smiles few,
all to find something new.
~
Day will end, night’s to start.
Home I go to my treasured heart.
First a kiss then hello,
dreamy eyes let me know.
~
Sleep awaits, minds at ease,
first time for the birds and bees.
Dreams to follow, world’s at rest.
Another day, ours was best.

~*~
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Morning Triku #179 ~ AM

Treble

With the dawn comes light.
We revolve to kiss our star.
With dusk we devolve.
~

Bass

On a blue planet,
everybody gets sad.
When left in the dark.
~

Volume

From the earth all’s born.
Toil and frolic to survive.
As the earth we rest.

~*~
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My Little Tea Set

On my fourth birthday my grandma gave to me,
a precious little tea set that traveled the sea.
Painted with flowers in a land faraway.
It’s made of porcelain and not yet for play.
~
My initials are there, in gold on the side,
I’ll use it when older, but never outside.
They’re tucked away safe in the dining hutch.
With mom’s good dishes she doesn’t use much.
~
On my fifth birthday my mom said to me,
your doll looks thirsty and ready for tea.
We ran to the hutch to get my tea set,
then a party with mom I’ll never forget
~
My dolly was there, and teddy was too.
We had goodies to share, but always too few.
We finished our snacks and washed my tea set.
Then put it away, it was our best party yet.
~*~
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Anatomicalatomicgalactica

Electrons float in endless flight.
Space’s gray, no day or night.
Infinity lurks out of sight.
.
Elements blend or violently clash.
Random moment’s atoms smash.
Fusion bonds fission’s ash.
.
Core pulls, heat spurred.
Nucleus form, orbits dared.
Love holds a time shared.

~*~
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Foresee What May Be

I started the day the usual way.
My feet hit the floor then out the door.
The sun’s yet high in the new sky.
But on the street I feel the heat.
The sweat begins to drip.
~
I get to work and feel like a jerk.
I forgot to do my do.
So I combed my hair in despair.
Then I booted up and spilled my cup.
The coffee made a big mess.
~
My notes now are gone and I left forlorn.
My haste has caused this waste.
I must slow down or I will drown.
This fast lane is causing me pain.
The phone then starts to ring.
~
It’s another complainer for I the explainer.
I was chilled to the bone by their ruthless tone.
I slammed down the phone but wasn’t alone.
The boss could hear standing so near.
This job, for me, was now done.
~
Hurt was I, I wanted to cry.
I went home to bed and wished I were dead.
I started to dream then woke to a scream.
A poke from my wife saved my life.
My eyes open to start again.
~
A nightmare was had, one very bad.
Its cause being stress is my best guess.
A lesson thought comes before taught.
My sweetie made tea for her and me.
A new dream’s begun and I called out sick.

~*~
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Literally Preposterous Poetry

A poet writes literally in metaphor
Corridors long, many a door
Doors of a poet need no key
Minds always open to poetry

`

Times to lose finding ones right
Days painted dark, nights write bright
A knights shining armor shields sight
Whilst wings of steel soar in the light

`

I know not what I shall think
With heavy load, this pen and ink
Or, should not I think or care at all
Bowing beckoned to this writers call

`

Scribbling, scribing, screaming; I know not why
Tis the finest of line – fantasy and lie
Opinions of truths and relative fact
Explosive emotion, some just an act

`

Though as preposterous as it may appear
A writer’s world there’s literally no fear
We flaunt, flourish and spill our ink
Free from fear to write what we think

`

Thus poetry freedom, yet some never see
And that’s literally preposterous to me

~*~

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Checks and Balances Mate

Dew glistens in the crisp of dawn,
peering out on an endless lawn.
Fresh air and sunshine I am drawn.
Soon I’ll be mowing for I am a pawn.
~
The king lives atop a manicured hill,
now slumbering peacefully while all is still.
Soon he’ll rise and our time he’ll kill.
His whims fulfilled against our will.
~
The queen too is soon to awake,
maids will arrive with orders to take.
Breakfast then served with chefs to make.
A picnic will follow down by the lake.
~
Their castle has towers like rooks on a board.
Treasures are many, much like a hoard.
Guards abound with shield and sword.
Musicians are hired to strike every chord.
~
Knights roam freely down endless halls.
They await more battles but more likely balls.
Their horses pampered in big, tidy stalls,
their messes cleaned by old women in shawls.
~
The bishops’ eschewed anymore plans for fun.
Soon it may be their rein is done,
king’s out-numbered at least eight to one.
Tables will turn then a new game’s begun.

~*~
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It’s All Pluckin’ Good

Hello friend, can you please spare a buck?
Sorry for asking but I’m down on my luck.
The wife kicked me out and kept my old truck.
She smashed my guitar, now I’ve nothin’ to pluck.
~
She said I’m lazy and got no ambition.
I said her happiness is my only mission.
I do what I can, but ain’t no magician.
Tell ya the truth I’d rather be fishin’.
~
But she kept my rods too, locked in the shed.
And she found all the money hid under the bed.
She threw the good pan right at my head.
She mighta been pretty but she ain’t well bred.
~
She’s as strong as an ox, same size too.
She wears a men’s size twelve shoe.
And when she smiles my brain turns to goo.
But she’s gone now, I’ll have to make do.
~
Just a buck, friend, that’s all I need.
I’d ask for more but that be greed.
I don’t need much, I’m easy to feed.
I can’t be a beggar, but I will plead.
~
Thank you, friend, for sparing that buck.
I’m thinkin’ this is a change in my luck.
I can walk, damn it, I don’t need no truck.
Thank you, friend, for returning my pluck.

~*~
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Bunny

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I have a best friend, name’s Bunny,

whose age is just the same as me.

Sits on my bed, friends all around,

snuggling close we’re all safe and sound

*

We all giggle, think it’s funny,

when I tickle Bunny’s tummy.

Though sometimes sad, trickling tears,

they’re easily dried with fuzzy ears.

*

I get big, Bunny stays the same,

destined for greatness and world fame.

Written about in poetry,

posed for art and photography.

*

With brush in hand with which to paint,

She’s very patient, no complaint.

Anytime, rainy or sunny,

always there my best friend Bunny.

*

By my side always, journeys far.

My companion; plane, train or car,

sharing adventures in daylight,

sharing our dreams every night.

*

The End

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Some Shades of Gray

Is time gained by hitting the snooze.
Do we ever really get to choose.
Where does my life go today?
Some days bright, some shades of gray.
~
Maybe I’ll roll over and just wait.
There’s always time, it’s not late.
I close my eyes and the world goes away.
Replaced by darkness or some shades of gray.
~
In disgust I thrash when thrust I must.
Outside is life, and this I must trust.
I want to sing and dance, laugh and play.
Depth is found in some shades of gray.

~*~
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Greener Bytes

Pontifications’ the place to be.
Grand thinkin’s the life for me.
Imagination’s so far and wide.
Keep AI and just let me decide.
~
Old tech is where I’d rather stay.
I get allergies blindly trusting all day.
I just adore my dual screen view.
PC’s I love you but keep that dark avenue.

~*~
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Off to See

The sea’s the source of life that be.
Life’s the beginning of all’s journey.
Journeys inform of real diversity.
Reality is what we individually see.

Fantasy’s what we make it to be.
Science is what we think may be.
Thought is time with mind set free.
Free is what we’d love to be.

Love unites, we all agree.
Hate divides universally.
Together to agree to disagree,
a reality of peace we then may see.

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Journey’s Home

~

I’m not just me, I’m at least three.

One sailed far hoping to be free.

One steamed airless more recently.

The oldest walked a vast frozen sea.

 ~

With passing generations this matrix grows complex.

A boundless atlas made of tiny specks.

Paper lines divide the pages of our time.

Ignorance is bliss, blindness sublime.

 ~

Unfurl the man-made charts, the journey’s just begun.

The ship of fools adrift, nowhere left to run.

Invaders, settlers or immigrant be –

all driftwood from the churning sea.

 ~

Time whispers on the ever-changing breeze.

One-eyed pirates still plunder all the seas.

Children wander a water-less beach.

Welcome shade out of reach.

~

To find a paper line they roam.

To find a future to call a home.

Pages of the atlas grown,

each a page we call our own.

*

The End

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Selfscape

~

On a canvas of life we paint every day.

Some burst with color, some dull and gray.

Each stroke has consequence, broad or precise,

all mediums large though most will suffice.

~

Hue’s all made one from another.

Texture’s built on a base we smother.

Shadows lurk in black and white.

Brilliant moons portray the night.

~

Love is felt on glowing skin

Hate pours from the blood within.

Seas of green churn, gallant ships tossed.

Crews-o-many flounder, all forever lost.

~

Happiness’s awash in the bright blue sky.

Sadness gives it time to dry.

Realism reflects an instant in mind.

Abstract’s more real when meaning you find.

~

Yet in two dimensions we do all conform.

Our edges and corners define the norm.

Then we sign, frame and place on a wall.

There hung with the others, all very small.

~*~

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Bad Vacation

Forbidden Pool2

Vacation’s soon and I can’t wait.

On the calendar mark the date.

Planning and dreaming all long year

Soon our vacation will be here.

*

I started to pack weeks before.

A few clothes and toys galore.

I need a lot for our long stay.

But mom repacks it anyway.

*

Alarm didn’t work, taxi was late.

With seconds left we made the gate.

Sat in the plane with no fresh air.

Waiting for bad weather to clear.

*

Hours wasted then off we fly.

Wings wobble, we bounce in gray sky.

Black night rain, runway wet and slick.

Vacation starts, we all get sick.

*

We landed late our luggage not there.

Just full of clothes, I didn’t care.

Late night taxi cost us double,

Big tip needed for his trouble.

*

Get to our rooms, sun starts to rise.

Daylight’s wasted with closed eyes.

Day one of vacation’s now done,

Hope the next six will be more fun.

*

But first a shower then some rest.

Than out for breakfast that’ll be best,

Eggs and juice, toast with warm butter.

Opened the door our hearts flutter.

*

Toilets broke, no shower at all.

A sign on door said tub down hall.

Beds were unmade, hot water cool.

Mom’s mad, dad joked about the pool.

*

We went to the lobby to protest.

Stood in the line with all the rest.

The man at the desk did all he could.

Some of the guests didn’t treat him good.

*

Threw down his pen, could take no more.

Grunting and shouting ran for the door.

“Hotel closed” he said running out.

Leaving us stranded, all in doubt.

*

Where would we go, where would we stay?

Yet another bad vacation day.

We found a place, it wasn’t cheap.

But we needed a place to sleep.

*

Cramped and dark but at least clean.

The tiniest bathroom I’d ever seen.

Just two beds, no TV at all.

One small window looked at a wall.

*

Settling in to rest our eyes.

Then off to lunch in clear blue skies.

But halfway there it starts to rain.

My jackets gone, left on the plane.

*

We ran fast to a place nearby.

Sitting soaked on stools too high.

Fish only menu, not for me.

Hours passed drinking pop, refills free.

*

Bellies bloated, day spent.

The sun came out and down it went.

Saw a movie we saw before.

Back to our rooms, locked the door.

*

Much the same the rest of the week.

Sun came out once, we caught a peek.

Went to the beach, waters to cold.

A bad vacation getting old.

*

Good news came later that week.

Luggage found but in Chesapeake.

Put back on plane, soon to leave there.

They’ll be back late, we won’t be here.

*

Trip soon over saw a new place.

Lots of ant bites, rash on my face.

Dad lost his watch, mom caught a bug.

Stuffed plastic bags with things to lug.

*

Our ride to the airport, not much fun.

Stuck in traffic in the noon day sun.

Bad vacation was had this year.

Being home soon is all I care.

*

One good part of a trip gone bad.

Is getting home and being glad.

Vacations done, better next year.

You go and have fun, I’ll stay here.

*

The End

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