Category: Poetry

I’d like to talk about this Murphy;s Law,That anything that can go wrong, it will.Why must it be something that rubs you raw?Why must it be something that irks you still? We joke about it all the time, it seems,But are we really joking? Think of it.We often want to

You know the routine, so get with it, right now.I don’t want to hear that you do not know how.Okay, now I get it—that gives me a kick—You know with this group you are not the top pick.Where you’ve been before, you were always top dog,And now you’re afraid you

A Christmas Wish is not something to laugh about,But on that wish make sure there isn’t any doubt.It must be just as strong as any wish you’ve made—With all your mustered fervency—to make the grade.Each wish or prayer you make is graded in its worth,In fact, it has been that

The fact I am immobile doesn’t mean I’m not alive;My reputation is I cause good feelings to revive.In fact, the very sight of me is aimed to give you lift,And, in itself, that should be looked on as a valued gift.That’s why I value what you think of me, and

I’m always asked “How are you?”, to which I will say:“Better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow.”To me, that isn’t being “smart” in any way,No vanity intent, or “play on words” to borrow. Of course, I could say “Fine!”, which you expect to hear,But does that tell you anything

You have heard this before, but I’ll say it with force,For the sake of humanity, bring back the horse.There are dozens of reasons, so little suspense,For the logic behind it makes simply good sense. The main thing, of course, it compels you to careFor a creature beside just yourself, and

You don’t have to read Mary Poppins to citeThe pleasure you get just from flying a kite.Of course, you would hope for a rather stiff breezeTo have it get airborne in a semblance of ease.You also found out your kite needed a tail,Without it, your kite would do nothing but

The tree is busy, playing with a breeze;It likes to play when it is done with ease.It bustles, rustles, whispers, waves, and sways,Quite happy doing this in many ways.Of course, in stronger winds it has to fight,Concerned about its safety and its plight.For it knows all too well it cannot

I do not disapprove of having faith, as all you know;But there must be a limit to how far your faith can go.Your faith must not be super ceded by your common sense;For God gave you Free Agency, and that holds precedence.Your dictate “God will save me” may not be

It is as busy as a bee because it is a bee;So why—oh, why—should it have anything to do with me?I certainly am not a flower, of most any sort,And I don’t think I smell like one which it would care to court.But let me try to sit outside, like

Our Labor Day’s not here yet, but…I have a feeling in my gutThat Christmas sales will then begin,Your dedicated greenbacks win.So Fall will fall, the trees unclad;With Halloween a passing fad.Thanksgiving comes, traditions-stored,Observed with what you can afford.Black Friday is not black—insteadYou are already in the red.I struggle with all

Since you are new here, thought I’d call to check you out—To see how you are doing. You are just aboutTo witness and enjoy what they call Halloween,And let me say it’s not like anything you’ve seenBefore. Too bad we had to have those changes madeBefore we came here. But,

Our science declares that we can surely pinThe dust we see at home is but dead skin.The trouble I perceive, what’s parlayed most,Is this: there’s no such creature as a ghost.But we’ve had haunted houses for all time,Most having creaky staircases to climb,Sans light, of course, unless it’s floating some,With

Truth and knowledge are unbeatable when paired,But only if and when their focal points are shared.As long as they are kept apart, in any way,The truth may be dismissed as rumor, shrugged away.And when you do not know the truth, have little choice,No way can you have an authoritative voice.Your

I know you cried for me upon my death,But now before you take another breath,Look back upon the life I tried to lead,Not just this time in which emotions feed;The little things which only you recall;Like those you always said were off the wall.In truth, the pain of death has

I did not know what love was—that’s the whole of it.I knew I felt inclined, but doubted, I admit.I wanted to be sure, but how was I to know?It was not fun not knowing just which way to go.Most of us, in our later years, are prone to sayAdmitting that

Most everything I used to do is now too tough.So I’ve been thinking. Yes, I know that’s dangerous stuff,But what else can I do—I’ve got to do it some…I sure don’t want you thinking now I’m getting dumb.So I’ve been thinking. Yes, I used to do that too.Now don’t get

If you don’t know the story of Coke, that’s a shame,For I feel that our lives should be seen much the same.The initial ingredients may have been great,But it lacked something, something, that would seal its fate.When that “something” was found. (just by accident, too),In effect. It became a great