Jeeze Louise
Jeeze Louise
Was hard to appease.
She always wanted more
And she never said please.
Oh Jeeze Lousie,
Her whims changed with the breeze.
When you saw her coming
You'd feel a buckle in your knees.
Little Jeeze Louise
Made many rivalries,
With fibs and tantrums
And starting skirmishes.
Poor Jeeze Louise
Finally gave us some peace
When we sent her off to the circus
To perform the trapeze.
Good riddance Jeeze Louise
And your many unpleasantries.
We hope you enjoy
The clowns and gypsies.
Noise
I can whistle a tune
I can howl at the moon
I can belt out a ballad into a spoon
I can hum
I can croon
I can yodel all afternoon
I can whip up a song that makes country folks swoon
I can chant
I can boom at maximum volume
I can even honk, like a Yellow Billed Loon
But can I be quiet?
No, not anytime soon
Skinny Bones Jones
Skinny Bones Jones
Ate blueberry scones
French macarons
And heaps of ice cream atop chocolate-dipped cones
But he never gained weight
Though he ate and he ate
He always asked for seconds and never left a crumb on his plate
And his height soared
'Til he had to duck to pass through doors
And his mother could no longer find him clothes at department stores
Oh the kids at school
Were awful and cruel
As they shouted out insults while standing on stools
For years people gawked
The whole town would talk
About the boy who grew into a walking beanstalk
But nowadays, no one laughs
Or makes fun on his behalf
'Cause he works at the zoo taking care of the giraffes
A Box Is Here
A box is here!
A box is here!
A magical, radical box is here!
Ordered from the store.
Dropped at the door.
Filled with useless, nonsensical bore!
A box is here!
A box is here!
A magical, fantastical box is here!
Open it up.
Throw out the junk.
Everyone in!
It's as big as a truck!
A box is here!
A box is here!
An absolutely magical,
Incredibly radical,
Over-the-top,
Insanely fantastical,
box is here!
Everything
I think I'll be an artist.
No, I think I'll be a judge.
I think I'll be a pastry chef
And eat endless trays of fudge.
I think I'll be an astronaut.
I think I'll be a spy.
Maybe I'll be an architect
And design buildings that touch the sky.
I think I'll be a veterinarian.
Or an actor on T.V.
I'll play a fearless cowboy
My name in lights, up on the marquee.
I think I'll be a teacher
And cancel homework for once and all.
No, I think I'll be an explorer
And hike the Himalayans in Nepal.
I think I'll stay a kid for now
And daydream about it all.
I think one day I'll grow up to be the
best everything the world ever saw.
Queen Bee
How would it be
To be a bee?
A busy bumblebee.
Would I be
Cut out to be
A little worker bee?
If I should be
A honey bee
I think the queen I'd be!
Mandrill
His nose is red
His face is blue
His beard is yellow
His eyes are too
His bum is purple
and sort of pink
At the sight of his teeth
Your heart will sink
Deep in the forest
In the shadow of a tree
He's eating a mushroom,
a slug and a bee
Hold your breath, don't move,
Be quiet, stand still!
If you are lucky
You might see a Mandrill
i like animals
I like animals with stripes, spots, feathers and gills.
I like animals with flippers, hooves, antlers and bills.
I like animals with tails and talons and claws.
I like animals with fur and scales and paws.
I like animals who roar, growl, hiss and buzz.
I like animals with fins and animals with fuzz.
I like animals with four legs or two legs or one!*
I like animals with big teeth and animals with none!
I like animals that perch and animals that climb.
I like animals that slither and are covered in slime.
I like animals that are tall with necks up to the sky.
I like animals that are too small to see with your eyes.
I like animals that are flat and ones that are round.
Those that are yellow, orange, green or brown.
I like fat ones and skinny ones and everything in between.
I like ones that show off and ones that stay unseen.
I like animals that hop and waddle and slide.
Animals that gallop, swim, jump and glide.
I like animals with skin that glows in the dark
and animals that are see-through and show all their parts.
I like animals with silly names and ones I can’t pronounce.
I like animals that are subtle and animals that flounce.
I like animals with sticky feet and little webbed toes.
I like animals with big ears and a water-hose nose.
I like animals that never leave their home in trees
and the ones that live 2,000 meters under the sea.
I like animals that carry their babies secure in a pouch
and ones that walk around with them hanging from their mouth.
I like animals that run with incredible speed
and those that crawl slowly with caution and heed.
I like animals with wings that cannot fly
and those without wings that soar through the sky.
I like animals that build nests, dams and hives.
I like animals that dig tunnels to stake out and hide.
I like animals with big eyes the size of dinner plates.
I like animals that move with the most unusual gaits.
I like animals in every way.
I like how they move, how they talk, how they play.
I like all the colors, the patterns, the flare.
I like them in big cities and out in nowhere.
I like animals who are strange, wild and free.
In each one of them, I see a bit of me.
* Many bivalvia and almost all gastropoda molluscs have evolved only one foot.
Little Carley
Anne Shaw
Little Carley Anne Shaw
Didn't like what she saw
So she picked up a pen
And she started to draw
She drew and she drew
All the things that she knew
Would cover the ugliness
The world had gone through
She drew birds
Butterflies
Horizons
Blue Skies
Coastal sunsets
Desert sunrise
She drew hot air balloons
Shooting stars
Crescent moons
Children flying kites
Wildflowers in bloom
She drew dew drops on leaves
Old dogs
Willow trees
Ladybugs in the grass
Cups of hot tea
She drew shells in the sand
Lovers holding hands
Rocky shorelines
Snow-capped mountains
She drew and she drew
'Til the grey in her hair grew
And her hand became crippled
Too much to continue
So she put down the pen
Stepped back and took in
All the beauty she made
For a world sufferin'
A poem for arden
I don't want to grow up.
No, it's not for me.
I'm going to stay this little,
'Til I'm one hundred and three.
'Cause I've never met a grown-up,
who will proudly sing out of tune.
I've never met a grown-up,
who can dig to China with a spoon.
No, I've never met a grown-up,
who likes to sleep in forts.
I've never met a grown-up,
whose nose drips milk when the snort.
I've never met a grown-up,
who can fly to the moon in a cardboard box.
I've never met a grown-up,
with a shoe box full of rocks.
Nope, I'm never going to grow up.
You can't make me.
I just don't!
I'm never going to grow up.
I can't.
I won't.
I left Earth's chaos.
I moved to the moon.
It's quiet and dark.
I have so much room.
The weather is beautiful.
I have a view of Neptune.
There's only one problem.
Where's the bathroom?
uh oh!
Crickety Crackety
This old house is for sale.
Some say its crickety-crackety.
The floorboards are original.
They sing clickety-clackety.
Although the roof has a few holes,
It's far from rickety-rackety.
It's beautifully decorated,
Full of nickety-nacketies.
If you want it, move quick.
It will sell snippity-snappety.
Octopus
My name is James Alexander Poll.
I've swallowed an octopus whole.
Do you have any suggestions,
To remove it from my intestines?
My attempts have been unsuccessful.
Tom Boy
As I skated the ice,
I began to think twice.
Is figure skating really for me?
The routines are too twirly.
The costumes are too girly.
A better hockey player I'd be.
So I traded the glitz,
For a puck and a stick.
My name on a smelly jersey.
Now I got me a shiner.
Lost my tooth to a fighter.
I've never been so damn happy.
Middle finger
My pointer finger is for picking my boogers and scratching mosquito bites.
My thumb is for holding soda cans and declaring thumb-o-war fights.
My pinky finger is for making promises and being fancy when I drink tea.
My ring finger is for my mood ring and making the number three.
It's hard to say what my middle finger is for, and Mom says, please don't ask.
I saw Dad use it on the freeway once as another car flew past.
Clothes for cupid
Cupid checked his calendar.
It was Valentine's Day already?
His face grew hot and rather red.
His hands felt cold and sweaty.
Sure, carrying around a bow and arrow can be intimidating.
But flying naked everywhere is utterly humiliating.
Douglas
There stood little Douglas, quite the handsome Fir.
His hopes held high; he'd reach the sky and grow with great grandeur.
But little did he know, his goals were all too lofty.
Come December; he'd be cut down in the name of being jolly.
Willy Nilly
Sir William B. Nilly of Staffordshire, indeed, was an unusual child, absentminded and harried.
His father would exclaim, "My boy, how cavalier!" when Will threw a baseball inside and broke the chandelier.
And his mother often shouted, "Why so perfunctory!?" when he failed to acknowledge the presence of company.
His schoolmaster sighed, "For goodness sake." when he handed in essays full of spelling mistakes.
His sister called him careless in every way when he lost his lunch money almost every day.
And that is the way Sir William B. Nilly came to be known as Willy Nilly Billy.
DREAM
I awoke in the morning and from the corner of my eye, I saw a cannon ball wiz overhead and high into the sky.
It splashed into the roaring sea, blazing hot and red! Churning, rolling, angry waves rocked and tossed my bed.
Far off in the distance approached a sail with skull and crossbones. It seemed my bed would soon to be pirated by the likes of Davy Jones.
I scrambled for the helm and even for an ore. I was alone without a first mate and saw no sign of nearby shore.
What else could I do, but lay back in my bed, squeeze my eyes tightly and pull the covers over my head.
Perspective
Here’s a little ditty,
for my veterinary friends.
Perspective is subjective,
depending on your lens.
For example, It’s feces in the colon
and manure in the stall,
but it’s shit when its covering your overalls
Suspicious -a poem dedicated to Katy
I am weird
I am odd
I am different
I am flawed
I am quirky
I am kooky
I am dark
I am spooky
I am eccentric
I am avant-garde
And I am suspicious,
of those who aren’t.
monsters
I invited the monsters
in for some tea.
They sat around my table
and criticized me.
“Your nose is too big”,
“Your tummy so round”,
“Can’t you do anything right?”,
they frowned.
And on they continued
with disparaging attacks.
Between sips of tea
and bites of snacks.
“You sound like fool,”
“you can’t accomplish that,”
“stop while you’re ahead,”
they spit and they spat.
I looked at them lovingly
and offered more tea.
Compassion for them
is compassion for me.
UNTITLED
The doctor said I grow a foot
by September of next year.
Well I grew 3 feet,
each with 5 toes complete.
This is not what he meant,
I fear.
Shoe
I borrowed a chefs coat,
and when I put it on.
My hands moved magically,
and made a tasty flan.
But they didn’t stop there.
My hands, they carried on.
I made a soufflé, a consommé,
linguine with garlic prawn!
Sadly I returned the coat.
It was all too good to be true.
My magic disappeared,
I was just your average shoe.
A Valentine’s Day
Poem for
Donald Trump
In my experience I do hold true that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Unless of course I stop to consider four years without the orange faced fondler.
BE MINE
Would you be mine to have and to hold?
Would you be mine gray and old?
Would you be mine ‘till I sip my breath?
Would you be mine hereafter death?
Gnomeo
Beyond a shadow of a doubt it was love at first sight.
Her long legs and pink plumage made this old concrete heart take flight.
And to my disbelief she fell for a short chap like myself!
Pointy hat, ratty beard - no better than an elf.
But she lived across the road with that rich family.
Loyalties to our side of the street - a Shakespearean tragedy.
So I sit here and watch her, as forbidden love torments.
A modern day Romeo and Juliet, if they were lawn ornaments.
The Skin I’m In
The skin I’m in is paper-thin
Baby soft and porcelain
Where does it end and where does it begin?
No one knows - but it belongs to him.
The Confectioners Last Scoop
“Ice cream has never hurt anyone!” the confectioner said
Then he slipped on a banana peel and severed his head
His jugular spewed blood, hot, thick and red -
All over the parlor floor and the lights overhead.
I looked down at my banana split and filled with dread.
My late night craving left a man exsanguinated!
Klaus
Klaus endured tremendous guilt every time he feasted on Virgin blood.
Being a sympathetic vampire left him feeling like straight crud.
But what could he do to his assuage his bloodsucking ways?
In the eyes of great grandad, he was an absolute disgrace.
I LIKE DOGS
I like big dogs, yellow dogs, dogs who like to play
I like shy dogs, goofy dogs, dogs who disobey
I like curly dogs, hairless dogs, dogs with long dreadlocks
I like spotted dogs, tuxedo dogs and dogs who look like they’re wearing socks.
I like dogs who trot, dogs who saunter and dogs who cautiously approach.
I like dogs who don’t walk at all and get pushed in a baby coach.
I like dogs with squished up faces and dogs with floppy ears.
I like dogs with graying muzzles that show the soulfulness in their years
I like dogs who hang out car windows, and ride in old truck beds.
I like dogs that sleep all day and dogs that never stop to rest their heads.
Poo
With furrowed brow,
eyes cast down,
and tail between my legs.
I watch him search.
“Where is the source?!”
The pressing question begs.
We both know,
he’ll never find it.
And then without a warning -
He’ll slip on his shoe,
and feel the poo,
before work tomorrow morning.
Grass
While out one evening on a sunset walk
I happened upon a field that began to talk
She beckoned for me to come and lay,
And relish in the warm spring day.
Of course I said yes and bowed my head
As sauntered toward her dewy bed
When I placed my foot upon her lush green grass
She screamed “no shoes, you stupid ass!”
Memories
I once collected old memories.
Scuffed up knees and broken bones.
Times I had been scared.
Times I had felt alone.
I once collected old memories.
Memories of hurt and pain.
Touchstones of hard times.
Times where grief left its stain.
I stuffed them in my bag.
I carried that bag around.
I wore it when I worked,
and when I slept deep and sound.
I carried old memories everywhere.
I collected more and more.
I collected so many memories,
the bag grew heavy and made me sore.
I grew tired of that bag.
Always toting it around
My body grew quite weary -
From the bag that slowed me down.
So I dropped the bag one afternoon.
I watched the memories spill.
I left them on a dusty path.
I continued up the hill.
Tourist Advisory for Tokyo
Be careful where you spend your Yen.
Namely, in Madam Wasabi’s Sushi Den.
She may greet you with “Irrashaimase!”.
Or pour you a glass of chilled sake.
But should you ask of her California Roll supply
Be certain she’ll spray wasabi in your silly round eye