July 25, 2014
“Oh, no! They’re going to pick us! I knew it! I knew it! Oh no!” trumpeted a daffodil sprouted near the edge of a meadow positively yellow with daffodil blooms.
“Who cares?” sniffed a neighboring daffodil, head held high while the meadow all around swayed in floral panic. “Get picked. Don’t get picked. It’s all the same.”
The collectors swept in with baskets, and soon the meadow was nearly empty and the baskets nearly full. The bride-to-be’s mother bent down to snip the last stem, but was stopped by her daughter’s plea.
“Oh, Mummy, we have enough. Let’s leave one,” said the blue-eyed maiden, glowing with joy.
The mother smiled a gentle smile and put away her razor-sharp clippers. The collectors gathered together and moved off, chatting and laughing. The meadow with its single standing daffodil was abandoned.
“Who cares?” sniffed the daffodil, head held high.
Moral: A carefree flower often survives, especially if it is a daffodil.
July 19, 2014
this is a poem all about lambs
and how they resemble not at all clams
clams are not woolly and legs have they none
a clam in a meadow does not romp and run
a clam does not bleat, never says ‘baaa’
if you think clams are lambs, in you there’s a flaw
July 7, 2014
A maze of gentle hedges surrounds the Elf Queen’s Glade.
I wander for days to solve it. I’m trapped, but unafraid.
Finally, yes, I step through. She sits there on her throne.
‘I’ve been waiting,’ she says. ‘Come closer. My, how you have grown.’
‘What’s that?’ I gasp. ‘Do you dare confirm what I’ve believed so long to be true?’
‘Give me your hand,’ she says, and then, ‘I’ve no other son but you.’
A maze of gentle hedges surrounds the Elf Queen’s Glade.
What joy to be a spider in the ever cool afternoon shade.
July 1, 2014
“Are you one of those quinces we’ve been hearing rumors about?” said one of the avocados pleasantly, just to be polite, just to make the newcomer feel welcome.
“What’s it to you?” was the quince’s rude reply. “Is that your skin or did somebody green vomit on you?”
“Well, I never!” uttered the avocado, stunned and offended.
“I can believe that. A fat blob like you couldn’t if it wanted to, whatever it was!” said the quince.
With a haste rarely seen, the avocados rolled from the bowl with what dignity was possible for avocados and wibble wobbled down the length of the counter to gather next to the microwave oven.
“Geez, I thought they’d never leave,” said the quince.
“It’s a yellow apple. A SOUR ONE!” called out the boldest of the avocados.
“I’ll be a preserve! What’ll you be? GUAC! HA!” shouted the quince.
The avocados were stuck for a snappy comeback, so they opted for haughty silence. They wished that they really were alligators, instead of merely being called alligator pears. Then they would give that insufferable quince a lesson in manners not soon to be forgotten.
Moral: Rudeness is not exclusive to the Animal Kingdom.
June 25, 2014
A cat’s eye marble, crystal clear with a wide yellow ribbon twist, rolled across the rug and came to a stop next to a short heavy club leaning against the wall in the corner of the room nearest the fireplace.
“Excuse me, club, are you tall enough to see the clock? I’d like to know what time it is,” said the marble in her small round voice.
“Cudgel,” replied the club shortly.
“Pardon?” said the polite little marble.
“I’m not a club. I’m a cudgel! I smash, bash and break! I crush! Oh, how I love to shatter things! Shatter, I tell you, shatter!” said the short heavy club with much emotion.
The cat’s eye marble quietly rolled away.
June 20, 2014
The biggest tree was twice as tall as any other tree in the forest.
“I can see the ocean,” boasted the biggest tree.
“Who cares?” piped up a young Douglas fir growing carelessly by the stream.
“Why, you miserable toothpick, I’ll …”
With great effort, the biggest tree wrenched itself to fall crashing toward the
insolent Douglas fir. The fir, who had been planning for and longing to meet this
moment for fifty-three years, spun quickly away, deftly pulling up its roots and dancing
in triumph around and about and on the fallen giant.
“Missed me! Missed me! And guess what? Guess what? Go ahead. Guess!” taunted
the Douglas fir.
The biggest tree stuffed branches into its ears, closed its eyes and shut tight its
mouth in a grim line.
“No comment, eh?” continued the sassy fir. “Well, listen to this. I’M going
to the ocean! Ha! Walking there! How do you like that?”
And the Douglas fir did walk to the ocean, where it was elected mayor of the small town
there and opened a successful used car dealership and married an attractive plum tree.
Moral: Never underestimate a determined tree even if it is rude.
June 16, 2014
The mountain bike hung on the garage wall. It was deep night outside and quiet. All the back wheel spokes and most of the front wheel spokes were sound asleep after an exhausting day of spinning up and down rocky trails. The few awake on the front wheel whispered so as not to disturb the night or awaken their brothers and sisters. They discussed dizziness remedies.
“I felt like throwing up after the first rotation. How do you keep from barfing?” asked the new spoke, a recent replacement for the spoke bent by the most recent mishap on the mountain.
“I like being dizzy,” boasted his near neighbor, no help at all.
“Never mind her, new guy,” said the spoke two stations above. “I used to be dizzy all the time, too, when I first spun. It takes a knack to avoid it. Here’s what you do. Pick a cloud to look at. If there’s no cloud, choose something far as possible on the horizon. Even plain blue sky is better than watching those trees whipping by.”
“Thanks, I’ll try that,” said the new spoke.
“I like being dizzy,” repeated the near neighbor, a silly smile on her face.
June 11, 2014
The foul concoction brooded at the bottom of the cauldron.
Why in the name of liquid brews everywhere did the crone add that last tincture of awareness to me? Trapped, nay puddled as I am in the depths of this ugly pot, what possible benefit can the awareness of my own existence bring to me? Pah! There she is again, looming above with her toothless grin. What now? An apple? Dipping an apple into me? Drip and gleam. Now I know! Yes! I cling to the apple for revenge. Who will bite into it and taste my dark gift?
June 9, 2014
The vain queen stood before the mirror and said, ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?’
The mirror, a little too proud of itself, replied, ‘Fair in what sense, your majesty? Equal pay for equal work? Distributing the exact same number of jellybeans to everybody for dessert? Whoa, I see by the invisible daggers shooting from your eyes that it’s my opinion on beauty you’re after. Well then, bottom line, when you get down to the nitty gritty, it’s in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it. What can I say? Your own brand of beauty is certainly top notch, as any blind rabbit could see. In my opinion, you’re definitely in the top five now dwelling in the realm, which when you think of it is saying quite a lot really. And the other four can’t hold a candle to your queenly garb. If they did, we’d have queen flambe’. Ha ha ha.’
At this point, the queen wrenched the mirror from the wall and dashed it to pieces on the stone floor.
One of the shards managed to croak, ‘You! It’s you! You’re the fairest!’ By then, of course, it was too late.
June 6, 2014
pickles on pizza
and ketchup on ice cream
splinters of tree bark
and remnants of moonbeam
great mounded platters of rusted bedsprings
these are a few of his favorite things