Posts Tagged ‘poems’

animal_buffalo cartoon bison wild west angry buffaloThere’s a bison in my basin
down the basement
of my house.
It jumped into the basin
When it glanced upon a mouse.

I cannot help but wonder,
while I sit around and pout,
If this bison leaves my basement
What will happen to my house?

To keep a bison in the basin
of the basement in my house
I must build a big encasement
or that bison will get out.

This encasement in the basement
must be strong enough to hold
a bison from his childhood
Up until he grows too old.

Still I cannot help but wonder,
Would he be better in a zoo?
Oh my goodness!
I’ve just noticed
that my bison count is TWO!

Now two bison in my basement
where before there was just one.
And to think I thought my bison
was going to bring me lots of fun.

But with two there’s added trouble
and I cannot help but think,
How do I wash two bison,
when they both begin to stink?

Alas, a bigger basin’s needed
to relieve my misery.
Oh no, I can’t believe it.
Now my bison count is THREE!

As I stare ‘round in amazement
at three bison in my basement
I have a feeling the encasement
will be in need of strong replacement.

My busy basement building
to increase my bison’s pen
has me sweating and regretting
that first bison that moved in.

Whoo! — I’ve finally contained them
back behind my basement door.
Oh no, don’t even tell me –
Has the head count grown to FOUR?

From one to four the bison number
in the basement of my home.
And the trouble they’ve created
makes me wish I were alone.

All the needings and the feedings
keep my bison all alive.
Oh yikes, I can’t control them!
As I count to number… FIVE???

Oh my goodness, someone help me!
I can’t hold them anymore.
I can see them quickly climbing
up the stairs and out the door.

Grab a broom and help me guide them.
Or use a great big stick.
I don’t care where we must hide them.
Just as long as…oh no, SIX!

It seems as quickly as I count them
there arrives another one.
Six and seven, eight and nine then
Final number? How ’bout TEN!!.

So as I struggle to contain them
in the basement of my house,
I won’t forget how all this started –
I can thank that one darn mouse!

203mouse

Copyright 2009. Unauthorized copying of this material is strictly prohibited.

The Taste of Poetry

Posted: August 7, 2014 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

sugar-addict_0Poetry is heart song put to paper.
It isn’t judged by the container it comes in,
or the label slapped onto the side of that container,
but by the contents awaiting inside.

What is sweet to others
may taste salty
or bitter
to you.

It is a present to unwrap,
crack open, and
consume to your heart’s desire.

 

Calliope’s Pen

Posted: August 3, 2014 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

Waxed tablet

grasped tightly between delicate fingers.

Scroll empty.

Stylus poised to accept its destined commands.

Inspiration flows.

Creativity takes hold then quickly evolves.

Song forms.

Music imbues the brain with thunderous sound.

Words cascade.

Poetry captures the heart in unwitting emotion.

Calliope dissolves.

Fading photographs bloom behind closed eyelids.

Leaving me.

Unburdening myself of her gift to me

Now scribed to empty pages.

She feeds my soul.

This poem is my response to Charles R. Smith, Jr’s published poem entitled “The Oh Factor” — a poem from his CD “Portrait of a Poet” about the effects poets can have on their readers.

WHOA

Just lettin’ you know,
Your fluid flow
Made my poets say “WHOA
And move and groove
To the sweet, smooth, slick
Sensual sound of wondrous words
First time heard
Flippin, slippin’ and drippin’
Off your CD’s knees
Blowin’ thru the easy breeze
Aimin’ to please
young minds like these
Landin’ and commandin’ in their ears
Chillin’ their fears
‘Bout hearin’
One. More. Pointless. Poem.
Taught by teacher
Preachin’ ’bout
Love for all poets
And funky, fresh, flowin’ poems
That roam
From the home
inside the
fine young mind’s
predefined eye
where they realize
recognize
and utilize
scraps of verbs and
unknown words
can make themselves shout out:
“OH!
What do you know–
I guess
MY best
can make
others say ‘WHOA.’”

A single rose pinned to a pale, linen coat
Sunlight peeking through clouded days,
Birds chirping on highest boughs,
New shoes squeaking down polished hallways,
Ice cream cones melting on scorching summer days,
Children skipping through sprinklers,
High notes on pianos before the recital ends.
Exhilaration.

A single star pinned to a heavy, woolen coat,
Long rides locked inside wooden cattle cars,
Empty shoes stacked high against restraining fences,
Smoke tendrils curling upwards from brick chimneys,
Forced marches of weary feet towards unknown fates,
Bulldozed, naked bodies buried in mass graves,
Disease, illness and starvation inside forced labor camps.
Annihilation.