Friday, July 22, 2011

Moses and George

Moses was just a young hound,

Not good for much but eating biscuits,

And left over scraps lying around,

But he was already the best tracker,

If something needed to be found,

His nose was insured by Lloyds of London,

A guarantee that his nose would always work,

So when the circus lost an elephant,

Moses was called, a case he would not shirk,

Now an elephant is really hard to lose,

There’s no place to hide with ease,

And George, the name of this elephant,

Whenever it was dusty he had a penchant to sneeze,

Moses started at the main ring of the big top,

The very last place George was seen,

He definitely caught the scent of George,

George needed a bath or two, if you know what I mean,

Moses might have been sidetracked,

By all the circus sounds and smells,

For he lost the scent of George right away,

And it took awhile to pick up the trail,

Now George had not been kidnapped,

He wanted to have a leisurely bath,

He could have jumped into a swimming pool,

But he didn’t want to draw anyone’s wrath,

Moses found George in the river,

Submerged and swimming around,

George looked surprised to see Moses,

“I’m not ready yet to be found,”

Moses agreed, sometimes it’s good to be alone,

It was hot that day and just right for a swim,

 Moses went upstream a few yards,

Before he decided to jump in,

George confided he was tired of circus life,

Long days and getting up at dawn,

Moses listened to George’s plight,

He was courteous, not even one yawn,

Moses and George became friends from the start,

Their appearances were very different,

But they were alike in their hearts,

They didn’t play the same kind of games,

But they could be friends just the same,

Hide and seek doesn’t give George a thrill,

And Moses won’t play squish,

They still sit and talk sometimes,

And get in a game of Fish,

They’re both happy to have the perfect friend,

Someone to share with, someone who’ll listen,

And now they’ve formed a detective agency,

How well they do, who knows,

But they expect to solve a lot of cases,

One has a great memory and the other has a great nose.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Expressions of All Sorts

“I’ve never painted whispers,” the wizened man said,

”I’ve painted snickers, smirks, and odd smiles,

And a few frowns that were handed down,

But whispers?” he carefully scratched his head,

“Oh, but I’ve drawn a few curses screamed aloud,

Maybe that will make up for the difference,

I don’t want to be thought to have less than all,

I thought I had captured every expression in the crowd,”

“Oh, no, you missed some,”  so wisely  I proclaimed,

“Besides whispers there are snorts, expressions of all sorts,

I don’t think you saw with clarity in the great hall,

For you missed the silent scream, and you will be blamed,”

“You’ll never paint again, your reputation was at stake,”

I looked at him with practiced disdain, a withering look,

But he ignored me, painting my expression rapidly,

Refusing to let me see, “Sir that would be a mistake,”

“Whatever expression I draw the owner is doomed to wear,

There is magical power in what I paint,

If you saw this painting you might faint,

So be careful with the words you choose to swear,”

“So you dare threaten me, the king’s own son,”

I laughed loudly, a horselaugh, and called for the guards,

But they approached and fled, then left me alone,

And in a mirror I could see the wizened man had won,

“So if you are wondering why behind a curtain I hide,

While I tell you of a man who didn’t paint whispers,

Let’s just say I’ve learned to treat others with respect,

And I keep any rude facial expressions inside.”

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Discovering the Magic of Love

Her hair I would gently brush,

Away from her beautiful face,

 I would claim with kisses,

Each and every place,

Those succulent lips have drawn me,

To sip and taste at will,

But I would not, could not stop,

Until I had my fill,

I would kiss her neck,

And taste her golden breasts,

I would have her softness,

Pressed against my chest,

I would have her warmth,

Prepare for me a nest,

Waiting for her heat to rise,

Becoming molten lava just for me,

Pulling me in, surrounded by love,

 And reaching true ecstasy,

And in the afterglow of passion,

Talking, kissing, touching,

Discovering the magic of love.

If I'm Only A Watcher

With sadness I watch passersby,

From my window day and night,

Going about their daily deeds,

Not understanding their own plight,

But I cannot call them to shame,

For deeds they did not do,

For my guilt is also to blame,

If I'm a watcher too,

If they ignore world events,

Or crimes next to their door,

If I’m judging what they’ve not done,

Then I’m even guilty more,

I turned my head when a baby cried,

Her mother was angry and proud,

The mother had given the child a pinch,

Because the baby was too loud,

I didn’t speak when a father ordered,

His son to fetch a beer,

But I could see a future day,

When the son would cringe with fear,

Who am I to ignore world events,

Or crimes next to my door,

If I’m judging what others haven’t done,

Then I’m the guilty more.


M. Y. O. B.

“Matter of fact,” she said sternly,

      “I like doing things my own way,

       If you’re not here to help,

       I don’t care what you say,

       If you’re not making things easier,

      Then get out of my way,”

“You’ve got your nose where it’s not wanted,

      You’ve put in your two cents worth,

      You think you’ve got the answers,

      To all the questions on earth,

      But until someone wants your opinion,

      All those answers are just good for mirth,

“Own up to your mistakes before you fix mine,

      You’ve been a crusader all down the line,

      You’re known as Miss Goody Two Shoes,

      And I think that’s just super fine,

      But when you start judging others,

      Then you’re totally out of line,”

“Before you dismiss everything that I’ve told you,

      Don’t worry about how computer viruses infest,

      Your pictures turned up everywhere, I guess,

      Those were interesting pictures of your chest,

      And those men had hungry looks in their eyes,

      But I won’t say anymore, you know the rest,

Don’t meddle in my business, just leave me alone,

I don’t need your judgments, my life is my own,

I’m not a miscreant, but even if that were true,

I’ll straighten my life out, but it’s not up to you.


The Ocean Is Calling Me (Part 3)

Over time Caleb’s spirit had worn down,

With the loss of his wife little joy could be found,

He was filled with conflicts, filled with doubt,

He felt his heart and soul getting ripped out,

He could forget the promises he said he’d keep,

Yet in the evenings he was drinking long and deep,

Only the ocean gave him reasons to try,

While his memories continued to make him cry.

Caleb and the two women drank and talked, exchanging names, dreams, and their stories.  The women, Mary and Linda, were long time friends who had met and bonded in high school.  They lived next door and shared life together. They scheduled their workouts at the same gym, worked at the same bank, and were always there for each other in times of stress or emotional trauma.

Both were single, but not by choice. Mary was divorced and Linda was widowed. Both had lost a man to the sea.  Mary’s husband had sailed off four years ago and had never returned. She waited a couple of years and then quietly got a divorce. Linda had invited her into her home as a guest, the least she could do for her friend.  Three months later their roles were reversed and Mary was doing the comforting.  Linda’s husband died when an ocean swell, a rogue wave, flipped his fishing boat and he drowned before rescuers could get to him. As Linda mourned and Mary comforted her, their bonds intensified.

The women ignored rumors that they were more than friends.  They needed each other for emotional support as well as financial support.  Night after night they had cried in each other’s arms, and often went out to dinner or to the movies. This night was different.  They were tired of being home, repeating the same routines.  They ventured out on an impulse, just for a drink or two, and promised each other they’d return before it was too late.

Caleb shared his story about heading to the flatlands, falling in love, and then losing his wife.  He explained how he had to get back to the ocean before he went crazy.  After a while Caleb insisted it was time for him to leave, not because he was tired, but because he was afraid he would break promises he had made to himself.

“Linda, Mary, it’s been a real pleasure sharing this table.  I think it’s time for me to go.”

Linda raised her glass and said, “One round for the road.”  Then Mary added, “One round to salute your wife’s memory.”

Caleb thought both toasts were reasonable and well deserved. The night blurred and faded and with the help of Linda and Mary he stumbled out into the darkness.  He had forgotten his promises.  He was past the point of caring.  He was with two beautiful women who were his friends.  They had been the only ones he had allowed himself to share memories of his wife and his attraction for the sea.  They walked him back to their house and told him he could sleep on the couch.  He didn’t remember getting undressed.  What he did remember was the tide coming in, the relentless pounding of the surf, the acceptance of the sand, and the excited murmurs of the ocean breeze that continued throughout the night.

Caleb woke with a start.  His mouth was dry and his head was pounding.  Sunlight streamed through the windows.  A leg was over his, an arm across his chest.  He shifted slightly and then struggled to sit up. He was confused and disoriented.   Where was he?  What time was it? Was he dreaming?  Was he back at the flatlands with his wife? “I’m dreaming,” he thought. “I can feel her next to me just like before.”  The thought was rather pleasant and he slowly sank back into his pillow, content and ready to dream for awhile.

 Reacting to his movements Mary snuggled against his chest and sighed contentedly.   The warmth of her body brought back all the memories of his wife and the flatlands.  His hands and lips caressed her face, her neck, and her breasts. He didn’t dare open his eyes for fear that this dream would end.  After his wife died she often appeared in his dreams but he didn’t remember her ever feeling this real.  They made love slowly at first, then passionately.

 He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes.  For the second time he was confused.  The curtains, windows, and walls looked real.  His clothes were neatly folded on a chair next to another set of clothes.  His mind was suddenly alert. “Women’s clothes!”  This was real! It was not his imagination!

 Just as he was starting to push himself up, a woman lay down beside him, pinning him against a body on his other side.  “I was going to make breakfast for us but I think it can wait.”

She looked familiar but his mind had already played tricks on him.  Caleb’s mind whirred and he remembered meeting her.  This woman was Linda. She was with Mary.  Linda and Mary.  They had drinks with him and he vaguely remembered walking with them to their house.  Now everything was coming into focus.

 Linda was pressing against him, moving her hips suggestively.  He started to protest but already he was responding, moving in an age old rhythm.  When their lovemaking was over, he collapsed, spent and exhausted.  He studied Linda carefully and then turned to Mary, who was sleeping.  He looked back at Linda, his eyes filled with questions.

 Before he could ask anything Linda said admiringly,   “O.k., cowboy, how long has it been since you were with your wife? You were sure needy last night. You weren’t shy with either of us.”

Caleb reddened.  “You’re embarrassing me.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I apologize for my behavior.” 

“Don’t apologize.  You were what I needed. No, Mary needed you, too.  It’s just been the two of us. We’ve kept each other company and we thought we didn’t  need a man.  I think we were wrong. We’ve been shut up too long, away from friends and family.  You’re like a breath of fresh air and we’re glad you’re here.”

“I’m not sure how long I can stay.  I’ll be looking for a job tomorrow and the next day and keep looking until I find one.”

Hearing Caleb’s voice, Mary’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh, my!  You weren’t what I expected at all.  I’ll give you five stars. Your wife was a lucky woman.” She paused and corrected herself. “Oh, I meant with you.”

(To be continued)

The Ocean Is Calling Me (Part 2)

It is the waiting that stirs the soul,

Anticipation of the unknown while seeking a goal,

There might not be peace with tomorrow’s sun,

But just moving in any direction is a battle won,

Sleep can be elusive while you wait,

For your thoughts continue as you ponder your fate.

There were road signs ahead warning traffic to slow and be prepared to stop.  Cones in the road caught his attention as the road narrowed. He continued slowly until a construction worker holding a stop sign stood in his way.  Caleb hated waiting behind other cars even though he knew they couldn’t proceed.  He was close enough to the ocean that he should be able to smell the salt in the air.  He had fought the impulse to see the ocean for a long time.  Now he was getting anxious to be back. 

A pickup came down the road escorting a dozen cars.  The pickup pulled over, waited for the cars to pass and then turned around.  The waiting cars fell in line behind the pickup and headed towards the ocean.

Caleb followed them two miles before they were through the construction zone and back on the two lane highway. He carefully stayed within the speed limit because police cars often were waiting to grab the impatient and speedy drivers. The road snaked over the mountain and through the woods before the land cleared along the sea coast. 

Even though he was anxious to see the ocean again, Caleb was already feeling the need for companionship.  Caleb wanted a woman to talk to, to listen to, and to hold close.  Oh, how he missed his wife! 

Everything in the flatlands reminded him of her.  All the little things that at the time seemed humorous, now took on new significance.  She had always seemed surprised at seeing dew on roses, the first snowflakes, summer storms as they rumbled in, and wheat fields waving. And always she stopped and admired newborn animals with their protective mothers.

  Caleb knew she wanted children, lots of them, to love and to chase after.  She dreamed of teaching them her love of life, her respect for the earth.  There was so much she wanted to show them.  Right away she had wanted children but Caleb had balked.  “Not yet,” he insisted.  “Not until we get this farm up and running.”

How he regretted saying that.  His heart ached when he thought of her.  “There is nothing left but memories.  She’s gone and my life is over.”

But even as he thought of her, Caleb was ready to leave the memories behind. He wanted something to drink, something to drive her out of his mind, at least for tonight.

After a few miles the forest opened and a wide panorama of the ocean lay before him.  The ocean stretched from side to side and was breathtaking.  Out in the ocean several huge stone formations rose a few hundred feet into the air.  The waves pounded and splashed against these rocks before the waves regrouped and rushed to shore.

“Beautiful,” Caleb said softly.  “I’m like that. Life is always trying to destroy me.  I must be strong and stand like these rocks against the waves.  I must remember to return during a storm to see the waves crashing against these formations.  It must be spectacular.”


Monday, July 11, 2011

I Followed a Path

Wanting to meditate and discover the good,

I followed a path deep into the wood,

Until before me a great oak tree stood,

Its branches mighty, its crown regal and thick,

The kind of tree I’d be if I had my pick,

I wondered, how long has this oak been around?

What made this oak special? Why hasn’t it blown down?

Of course, I mused, when a storm came through,

The massive trunk deserves the credit for what would ensue,

Yet I realized there was more than what met the eye,

The trunk needed support to stand and touch the sky,

Roots keeping the oak anchored were beneath the tree,

Spreading out in all directions for stability,

I could see the mighty oak was more than a tree,

It was a symbol reminding me not to judge what I see,

Because like the oak there’s more within me,  

T here’s part of me that’s in public view,

Exposed so people can see what I do,

But beneath my surface my values are set,

The part of me that might be stronger yet,

To survive the storms of life these roots will grow,

When troubles are encountered my character will show,

Storms in life are impossible to outrace,

So the challenges they bring I will embrace,

I’ll be like the mighty oak if I learn to endure,

The storms of life with a heart that’s pure,  

I left with knowledge from where the oak tree stood,

Followed the path out of the wood,

My search was over, I finally understood.

Yes, Tis True

Oft I tend to ignore,

The angels among us,

For they tug at my conscience,

Right to the very core,

They pull me in nobler directions,

Out of my selfish self,

Until my heart turns loose compassion,

With few strings left,

There is no better explanation,

For what I have learned,

Angels are watching over me,

And they work hard for wings earned,

Angels that are grounded,

Will stay afoot I’ll bet,

For I am far from perfect,

My feeble ways are set,

My heart calls out to angels,

To fill its empty rooms,

But my vanity has grown big and bold,

Over my life it looms,

And angels that I’ve known so well,

Over years that quickly fly,

Wait at the corners of my life,

Helping me climb on by,

I might tell you once or often,

There are angels among us, tis true,

They come in many guises,

They’re there for me and you.

Loving You Like This

I didn’t intend to let love in,

I thought there would be too much pain,

Yet my heart spread wide its arms,

So love’s favor I could gain,

I was pleasantly surprised the day we met,

How completely I was attracted to you,

My love kept growing stronger yet,

And I was glad when you said, “I do,”

Long ago you told me you were plain,

But I smiled as you slept naked beside me,

Like a fawn shaking off the summer rain,

You shivered and goose bumps I could see,

Now as I hold you I still disagree,

I’ll cover you, but not without a twinge of regret,

For I love every part that I see,

And I’ll cherish every moment I can get,

I brush strands of hair from your face,

 “You’re beautiful,” I whisper in the dark,

 And to plant a kiss I find a place,

Hoping that kiss might stir a spark,

I still yearn to hold your many charms,

You might not hear the words I say,

 Those simple words that only my head knows,

Are laden with love and might betray,

How much my heart with passion overflows,

I grin again, already missing your sweet kiss,

I don’t want to rush life, I want to take life slow,

Because I want to go on loving you like this.  

An Angel is Watching Over Her

She is vibrant and alive,

Her youth shows,

An angel is watching over her,

For he knows,

That her life is yet to live,

The angel calls her name,

Tries to convince her,

That life is no game,

She has plans, so much to do,

Life can’t wait,

She has love to give,

And years to follow her fate,

The curtain of life is woven strong,

And it has to be,

For life courses through her veins,

And her angel sees,

Her world laid out before her,

Each and every day,

He’ll guide and protect her,

For she has reasons to stay,

Her life will ring true,

Until she completes her list to do,

She’ll look back and smile,

At all the things she did worthwhile.

Death Is Waiting For Me

Death is waiting for me,

But it’s not time yet,

He is peering through the veil,

But I’m not set,

He’s visited me over the years,

Called my name,

Tried to convince me,

To play his game,

But I had too much to do,

Death had to wait,

Until I finished my earthly tasks,

Then I’d enter death’s gate,

See where the curtain has ripped?

He stares at me,

But I do not fear death’s gaze,

For I cannot be,

Part of his entourage,

No, not today,

He’ll have to wait behind the veil,

I’m going to stay,

Try to complete my list of things to do,

Until my final breath,

When my list is done, I’ll welcome,

The spectre called death.

Lots and Lots of Magical Trees

I’ll dig and plant and grow a shoe tree,

And all the shoes will be for a poor country,

Where some of the children don’t have shoes,

And most of the world doesn’t have a clue,

About what the children go through,

I’ll grow a tree that has food and drink,

The children need that, don’t you think?

Bloated bellies and starvation are rarely understood,

Because the world doesn’t share what it could,

I’ll grow a tree that is filled with songs,

When children sing, would that be wrong?

If my voice blends with theirs all day long,

Singing will help make hearts strong,

I’ll grow a tree that is filled with money,

To change their world into a land of milk and honey,

Instead of them living from day to day,

Trying to subsist on whatever comes their way,

I know one tree can’t grow enough shoes,

It might take more than three or two,

And the plant that grows all kinds of food,

Will have to be cloned if I could,

You can help with the tree of songs,

We’ll join hands and sing all night long,

The tree with money will have to grow,

Because one little tree can’t bestow,

Enough to clothe, shelter, and feed,

Satisfying each and every need,

My garden will be large with lots of trees,

I can do this if you’ll help me please,

If we plant enough for a country or two,

There’s no telling what we can do,

A world of trees, new hopes and dreams,

A world with compassion, and fewer regimes,

We’ll plant and sow some magical seeds,

Then climb up high and see what the world needs.



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