Long poem by
Terry Trainor | Details |
Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.
Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,
As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.
If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.
An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.
The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.
Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.
Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.
These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,
As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.
These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,
Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,
Long poem by
Peter Duggan | Details |
In memory of Bob
A true story.
It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.
There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.
As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.
I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life, that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long, ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.
Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.
Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain, but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.
His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.
Long poem by
george franklin | Details |
TO SWANSEA STEEP STAIRS TO BED
IN WALES I CLIMB
TED DRIVES A WINDOW LIGHTLY
IT’S GRAY AND EXCITING CLOSED BY
A NEW PLACE CURTAINS ON A LINE
AND REDISCOVERED FACE A BULB, CEILING SUSPENDED
FOR ME TO DREAMS I
THEY WILL COLLECT A GOOD HARD SLEEP ‘ ’ MEET HERE’’
SHE’s FRANTIC LATE A SHAVE
MEG ARRIVES, STRIDES, A GOOD BY WAVE
A GAIT MORE HUGS, KISSES,
WHERE IS SUE? ’ I LOVE YOU GEORGE’’,
A WAITING YOU SUPRISES ME
AT HOME AND DELIGHTS
BLACK WET STREETS I FEEL ALIGHT, ALIVE
CURL, ASKEW BUT WAIT,
GET GROCERIES HERE MY TRAIN COMES AND GOES
‘’AND SOME BEER’’ WITH ME, SADLY, GLADLY
A MOUNTAIN YET ON MY WAY, AWAY
A SLIP AND SLIDE MEMORIES FROZEN
UP THE HILL WE GET FEELINGS TOO
TO THE TERRACE DID I SAY?
KNOWN AS SPITFULL I LOVE YOU.
A WELCOME HERE,
A HUG, A KISS
‘’ COME SIT AND
TELL OF THOSE WE MISS’’,
ON COUCHES LOW
WITH BLANKETS O’ER,
NEXT TO PUP AND SUE
YELLOW LIGHT I REMEMBER
MEAT A DEARTH
‘’SHE WON’T KISS ME IF
I SMELL OF MEAT’’
A TABLE SQUARE BUT NEAT
THEY TWO, SIT AND EAT
A PROFILE, VISUAL TREAT,
IN MY MEMORY LOCKED
A CLASSIC, BASIC PEAK,
AT LIVES THEY LEAD
WE SPEAK AND LISTEN
SMOKE AND JOKE
RED TILE, OLD CARPET,
ON THE FLOOR
WE’LL TELL YOU MORE,
WE HAVE THE WATER SEE!
THOSE BELOW, GO WITH OUT!
THEN ITS “SPITEFULL”YOU WILL
Long poem by
Briana Lynn Minard-Adler | Details |
Bradlee Joe is mine, he's always been mine,
The younger brother of David Authur Rasmussen Jr.,
Those gorgeous brown eyes staring at me, natural hair color,
That's brown; just like his brothers, but he dyed it blonde.<3
That gorgeous angel face, I think of him everyday all day, think of,
Those memories, that smile, that laugh, that voice, those strong arms,
The strong arms that hold me, just like his brother used to.
The sweet things he says to me, those precious eyes look into,
Into mine, the way he runs his fingers through my hair, the way he tickles me,
The way we play wrestle, the way we talk, the way we look at each other.
Eyes full of wonder, wonder how long we'll stay together, then he says,
He says "Baby we'll stay forever", and I believe every word he says,
My God if he only knew, knew how he makes my heart pound, the way,
The way it's just so easy to talk to him, man I can tell him anything, and I know,
I know that he'll keep it a secret, that's why I trust him with everything,
Everything inside of me. Everytime he asks me if I wanna start,
Start over with him, I always say yes, because I love him!!
No matter how much he hurts, I'll always love him, I do, because,
Because I know it's real, I love him with everything inside of me,
I want to wake up next to him everymorning and fall asleep,
Fall asleep in his arms everynight, say "I do" to him, have his,
Have his children, be in love forever, my God I've never felt this way before.
I fell for him the first moment I saw his gorgeous smile light,
Up that dark lunch room, the way you hugged me tight, exchanged,
Exchanged numbers with each other, and the way we talked on the phone for hours on end,
Oh how I wished for you to be mine, How I still wish to change,
Change my name to Briana Lynn Rasmussen.
Babe I can't inagine a world where you don't exsist, babe without you,
Without you I'd honestly die.
The son of David Authur Rasmussen Sr. and Sandi Rasmussen,
The brother of David Authur Rasmussen Jr, and Cheyeene Rasmussen,
The cousin of Kenneth Michael Hampton, better known as Mikey :) You have
Have a older bro, a younger sister & brother, and you have you,
Father's eyes, your brother's strength, your mother's beauty, and your crazy,
Crazy sense of humor.
With you I can't stop smiling, laughing and giggling.
Babe I am finally home, it's been a long time, and I am glad you kept the bed warm for me,
My home is with you, it's the only place where I belong, and babe I am so glad to be home.
I love your curly hair, I love the way you hold me, the way you kiss me, the way yoy,
You love me.
I love everything you do, and everything about you,
Babe I really do hope that day comes where we say "I do."
Hell I'd do it right now if I could, if you wanted me the same.
I want to be the mother of your children, I want to be the on;y woman you come home to,
Come home to after work, the one you give sweet kisses to, and the one you tell,
Tell me about your day, the one who wants to fall asleep in your arms, and
Wake up in your arms with my head on your chest, see your sweet smile everyday,
Hear the words "Good Morning Baby, how'd you sleep?"
I'd reply sleepily "Great, how bout you Angel?" I love everything about you, everything
Everything you say, babe I love the fire in your eyes, the way you are protective over me,
The way you fight for me.
Babe I just wanna be your forever, and when we die baby,
I want to be laidto rest next to you, or with you in the same casket, because,
Because I'm only me when I'm with you, you are the only one who keeps me warm, The only one
Only one who makes me feel like I am home, like I'm finally alive,
Like I'm finally me, babe you are my better half and really honestly,
I've been so lost without you, and I am so glad to be back home.
Long poem by
Christine Phillips | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/im_back_630084' st_title='I'm Back'>
Last year you beat me up
And poured vinegar in my cup
Last year you humiliate me
And hire criminals to torment me.
Last year you deny my friends and families
The natural right to be happy
My children went to bed
On Christmas day without food
While you drink and laugh
with your friends and called me a damn fool.
Last year I came to you for help
But you belittled me instead.
You spread out your sordid legs before me
camouflaging under white sheets
And grinning your tobacco stained teeth.
Last year you brought discord among my race
Thus inciting a worldwide disgrace.
You have dominated my house, infiltrated the churches
Spreading political propaganda from the pulpit
and preaching biblical hate while some
of your so call missionaries are spitefully
destroying homes and family.
Take your dirty hands off the innocent children
And allow them to grow and live like children
They should be tucked in their beds at nights
And not among fake mothers and delinquent fathers
who are posing as one big happy family just to
conduct unscrupulous activities.
Stay away from the daycare centers and stop
using warm hearted children as instruments
in your brutal and villainous operations.
I sat on the street corner observing you from a distant
parking your car at the front door
And leaving with another from the back door.
I stood right next to you at the New Years Eve party
Watching your glass going up in cheers
And making deceitful and ruthless plans for the New Year.
I was even sitting with you at the poker table
Listening to your big chat watching you
puffing cigar and exchanging big dollars
to fabricate and execute another plot.
I have followed you straight into your mysterious room
Where you convened your secret meetings
and formulate your business deals
I have taken notes of your evil and treacherous plans.
Wow! you believe that are so mighty and powerful
You can have everything taken care of in split seconds
Name the price and the job is done
Oh what a wicked and cruel generation!
I have infiltrated every community
Every estate, business and properties
your social clubs and extravagant dinner parties.
Last year you brought me down so low
You have discredited my office and block my ambitious
and generous plans just to have your way and dishonor my race.
But now I am back with strength and spiritual power
This year you cannot break me
Even when you out numbered me
I will still stand strong and beat you with a power
that has never been witnessed in decades.
This year I am back and I have no time to chat
The lame duck is dead that you have planted in my back.
I have full grip of the handle now and all the facts are known
There are evidences of accomplices and participants
Who have dipped their hands in blood to move to the top.
You have target honesty, accused innocency and harassed purity
You have demoted and promoted to conceal the truth
Used and suffer others to gain your blood stained honor
Do not take me for granted I am going to exercise my full authority
Every secret will be exposed and every act of cruelty will be deposed
And the hidden abusive secret power that is responsible for
The global misery and worldwide atrocities will be eliminated.
Love and peace will be restored to countries,
friends, homes, families and communities.
Get out of my way!
I am on my way to an emergency meeting
Repent before it is too late!
Because I am back!
©2015 Christine Phillips
Long poem by
Edmund Linton | Details |
We were chasing each other through the woods,
behind the old neighborhood
where your parents still live.
I was heaving with bent-over laughter,
trying to catch up to your looking-back smile,
and then you disappeared into that opening
where the sun used to break through
during our childhood Summers,
shimmering across strained mirrors
and chrome plated bumpers of long forgotten broken down cars.
When I saw you,
leaning against the flaked hood of our old rusty green car,
chin resting in the palm of your hand,
beautiful shine written across your face,
you were reaching through a missing windshield
shaking that bent steering wheel,
reminding me this was the place
where we learned to drive.
A place where the musty smell of rain-soaked vinyl and dried oil,
doors fused shut by seasons of rust and stillness,
and tireless dreams would take us
anywhere we wanted to go.
We drove a thousand miles and back
on one tank of gas,
leaning into curves so tight
that I could smell the soap
your mother used on shirts,
and you would push me away with an elbow,
never even taking your eyes off the road.
I pressed the pedals
and you changed the gears,
because you said you were older,
and I said ladies always go first.
Except when we drove along the beaches,
moving slowly in white, low tide sand,
so you could toss breadcrumbs to the Seagulls,
worrying over whether each one got a meal.
I would say, let’s go see some city lights,
where you could look out the window,
and blow fake kisses to people standing on the sidewalk,
and you would say, one more ride down the boulevard please,
just one more.
Then one day you turned and blew a kiss at me,
knowing that I couldn’t tell if it was fake or real,
so you pressed the palm of your hand to my cheek,
and I felt dizzy because your lotion was so strong.
That was close to the time
we spent an entire afternoon,
cruising the back-roads,
searching for the cat you found
that didn’t come home for three days.
The one you cuddled and kissed,
and wouldn’t let anyone hold.
The one your father chased through
every bedroom of the house,
until its claws got tangled in a bedspread,
and he tossed it right out the back door -
blanket, pillows, and all.
You snatched up the blanket,
eyes puffy and red,
throwing it over a low hanging limb
like you were setting up a new home.
You cried for a solid hour,
until I got quiet,
and you started a pillow fight under that homemade tent,
feathers flying across the yard
like a flock of white moths.
you finally let me drive first,
so you could ride past your friends,
waving with sunglasses,
tossing your head back like a famous movie star.
You always knew that when I changed gears fast,
pressing the pedals hard to the floor,
we were heading to open road,
where you would lean out the window,
turning your arms like airplane wings,
glancing over at me with a playful grin,
hoping that I would notice how beautiful you looked.
And I would turn on the South road,
where we would drive across long bridges,
to islands that were lit by small flames,
holding on to each other’s arm
like we were never coming back.
And when we did
we made a promise,
knowing that some turns in the road
may take us on a different path,
we would never forget the rides we took
in that old green car.
Long poem by
Paul Powell | Details |
I am not perfect I am not a saint
I have my vices my loves my hates
I am human flawed not unlike most of humanity
I can admit to this quite openly
I cry at times, I laugh equally as much one can see
I'm very much happy complacent relaxed I try to be stress free
Any problems in my life are minuscule yes I compare
To the struggles of others everywhere
Friends who've lost family members the stabbings knives carried by young boys
Those around me still suffering silently their friends don't even know
Why can't it be like the old days
Fisty cuffs no knives or gun play
I strive to be better I move forward I analyse
I wish so much suffering would disappear I hate hearing the cries
I've found purpose in my life I just have to hold on learn not to let go
I was for the longest time a lost soul
empty with so little to show
I now see much clearer so brightly for me the road is lit
I now know my purpose in life & I'm so elated with this
the energy that flows surrounds me
the positive force
I feel alive spirits lifted at last I am free
What the future holds for me I do not know
But where it seems to be leading me I am compelled to follow
Blessed I feel yes blessed be
If I have continual inner happiness I can help others to be like me
Much calmer more clarity I think deeply I analyse
I'm writing these words cos I've truly opened my eyes
Yes one can have ones eyes open but can one truly see
Yes I surely can because as i said earlier I've been set free
I am not bound to the world I don't worship material gain or worldly needs
I have my life my health my inner strength I want to succeed
No darkness surrounds me but so much positive I can't complain
try not to let negativity bombard & disrupt ones brain
Well to be me not perfect Flawed disorganised I do try
To make myself better so happy am I
When you're reading this please i want you to understand
I am moving forward il make myself a better man
So to all I offer my positive energy
Take some I don't mind
but leave me a little yes I'll be fine
I draw this to a close it has soon reached its end
I've found my calling my purpose from now to my life's end
I know what I am now but in the future what I'll be
I'll be ascended I will fly yes I believe this to be
I'll help others selflessly as much as I can
and those that know me already will truly understand
I love this fact the changes slowly I see
i know it won't be instant, ke se rah what will be
My eyes speak the truth honesty in my words
Extra extra read all about it I will not be deterred
from the path that I've been clearly set for me
Unburdened ill head towards light & get to where I want to be
Where that is yet not so clear but the signs are there it shows
All I know it's a wondrous happy place, a place to learn be enlightened I know
I am ready to take this journey I am so ready to grow
So let me get on this mission a challenge I'm sure
It's my life I intend not to hold back anymore
I'm seeing life more clearly now i am free content happy, I will soar &I'm ready to fly xxxx
Da Predman powriginalpoems2make u :)
the urban poetry collection
Long poem by
Carol Eastman | Details |
Dragon put out his shingle to be a psycho-analyst.
He claims he can cure the blues, in one single visit!
Also says he can stop those bent on suicide,
And clean out everybody’s sinuses, in a New York Minute!
Actually, I've seen it done, as he takes patients,
For a very exciting ride, and I do literally mean RIDE!
Remember! This is Dragon! Once he gets something in his head,
There’s no changing, that there TIDE!
Yes, it is Dragon that grabs the bling ring!
And he provides the highs… Whenever someone is low…
He flies them to the skies… But then pretends to let them go…
OH! Yes, he even does, barrel rolls…
But when they fall, he always catches them… we hope,
Before they finally hit the blooming ground!
Yes, if by now, they have made, it onto his back…
The fun never stops, as he flies the great beyond!
He loves to flitter wildly, back and forth, and to zig zag sharply,
To and fro, throwing them all about…
By this point, they have been known to sing,
Though at such a height, no one knows, what they shout!
He then adds to the fun! Don’t you know! As he sputters out,
Not to mention… while flying upside down!
There’s never a single yawn! As he does a loop de loop, backwards…
Yea, I know! He’s such a clown!
It’s said, he can provide the most spiritual experience,
Anyone in this world has ever known, bar none.
Oh! Don’t forget the long distance, free fall, dive bomb runs!
That he’s not very good at pulling out of!
Then there are his landings, or as I call them “Crash attacks”!
For by the time he’s finally landed back…
He’s hit nearly every tree in our great big forest….
Tho only nicks most before the GREAT BIG SMACK!
When they get off: They bow down and kiss the ground in absolute,
Undeniable prayer, earnestly done!
At first, no one wants to talk about it much,
A few have been known to be silent, for nigh on a full month.
But the one undeniable truth, that they’re always found…
Before reaching the beautiful hollowed ground…
Is that they suddenly see the greatness and wonder…of their life,
Which they left below, so earthly bound!
You can say, Dragon teaches everyone to hold on tightly for the ride.
And if you weren’t a saint or believer!
By the time he’s done, You WILL be praying for God to provide!
As a few have been known to thankfully cry!
NO one has needed to go up twice! I sometimes earnestly wonder why?
But now, be ready, for all to behold…
The wonderful commemorative bling ring, he’ll give to you, to hold!
Yes, he made it just especially, for YOU!
And at the low cost of $19.95, as he says on his Internet site…
If you don’t like it…
You can go up, again, until he gets it right!
Written 3-11-2014 For: Tickle My Funny Bone Contest
Long poem by
Carol Eastman | Details |
Ever wonder, the sort of things that Dragon and Hubby do when together?
Well never fear, I’m here to explain a Spring Day routine in good weather.
Easter was upon us, as they worked out in the sun, getting the yard, so ready.
Yes, for the Easter Bunny to come, and to make the wee ones, oh, so happy.
First they had to make the area, so perfect, for the Grand Easter Egg Hunt.
That means those pesky little moles will simply, have to get out of Dodge.
Working together, Hubby opened up a mole hole and hollered, fire in the hole.
Dragon puffed hot air into the hole, as moles popped out from… everywhere.
Oh, bye the bye, they weren’t singed, for Dragon blew only hot air, my friend.
Then Hubby collected them quickly in a basket to take them to a better home.
Somewhere else, far… far… away, where scampering children will not roam.
Here, everyone stomped the molehills down, so none, could fall over or within.
Then, Hubby let Dear sweet Dragon, use the leaf blower to pile the gumballs.
You know, those spikey, golf ball size things, with sharp edges all around.
Perhaps, a tad better, directions on where to blow them could’ve been found.
For Daddy was heard going Ouch! OW! OW! Before he got out, from in front.
Finally, those little nasty spikes were piled, and ashed, and placed in the can.
This deserved a big reward, as Dragon proudly, heated a pot of hot chocolate.
Yes, Dragon added his own dear warming touch, before the coco passed around.
But never let it ever be said, that a new lesson can’t be learned, and theirs was…
Never! Bring a smoking Dragon to a hayride, as Hubby & Dragon finished off…
The Night… In a blaze of glory… or rather… with a little touch of fright!
The Easter Egg Hunt was to start early, so the Easter Bunny joined us at sunrise.
We all went to work, except Dragon, cause with him, nothing stands a chance.
Puddle-ie goods of yummies tend to take the fun out of the Easter Egg Hunt.
Suddenly, Dragon tried to trip the Bunz, with his tail, but the hopper, prevailed!
But by then, Dragon was totally flustered and trying to whomp him with his tail!
Then, Hubby arrived, to save the day, and find Dragon with a Cheshire cat grin.
Not to mention the bedazzled cape that said ‘The Easter Bunny’, in all out bling!
If that didn’t give up his plot: Those great big Bunny Ears tied upon his head did.
When Dragon couldn’t stop the Bunz, his penguins with their first aid box… did.
The Bunz was becoming a mummy when Hubby hurriedly rushed to intervene.
Tho, where they might have taken him, might have been priceless to be seen.
In the end, a truce was formed, and the Bunz got Dragons cape. And Dragon?
He got to give the Bunz a ride, smack dab, in the middle of the Easter Parade!
The penguins learned Bunz's nose isn’t broke, just because it’s short and wiggles.
Thank goodness Hubby got there in time, or a Bunz with a Gorilla Glued-in beak
Might have been hard to explain! … The End
Long poem by
Carol Eastman | Details |
Dragon got to thinking… And that’s always a frightening thing!
One of my son’s went into the Army, so he would do the same,
He’d been told, Soldiers are our Heroes, and he wanted to be one.
So he flew right down to the recruiters, and quickly signed up. Huh?
When I found he’d done it, the Army declared it a legal, done deed.
As a mother hen, I jumped up & down; for those silly clucks, to see.
True, an ancestor was a knight, but he’s 2 year old, too young, to fight.
He still holds his blankie and nappie times tight… it wasn’t very bright.
All they saw was a big, fiery, weapon thing, THEY wanted to hold tight.
Grandpa Troll said, let him go, for they have a Dragon, by the tail, alright.
You know! He’d be home, in a day or two; the Army had much to learn.
So to the Army, Dragon did go! With tears in my eyes, I waved goodbye.
Then the fun began! The first night they couldn’t find him enough to eat.
His tummy growled, so nobody could sleep, and his blankie, it was gone!
Hurry up and wait, was the name of the day, so not a good Dragon Day.
Nappie times were frowned upon, so Dragon became grouchy and tired!
He marched so hard the earth did quake, flew to the end, to finish his nap.
The sergeant, not impressed, KP, & pealing potatoes became his thing, so…
He fired and cooked them clean, then toilets got a blue fiery sheen, it seems.
They put him in the field again, to crawl thru the mud, with bullets overhead.
He was temped to fire them up, you know, but as usual, he was a gentle soul!
Tired, he collected mud & stones, flew & dropped them, on the shooters heads.
Until, They were all out cold. Missing the sergeant by an inch. Ooops! Yep!
Here we go again! He was to police the beautiful parade grounds, but, then…
It came out crisp, not green. Now the sergeant was getting mad, mean & lean.
But when he tried to stand nose to nose… He stepped on little Dragon’s toes!
A sight ensued as never seen! The Drill sergeant’s eyebrows and his clothes…
Disappeared. He coughed and blew out a little smoke! Our hero came that day.
Yes… Walker Texas Ranger came to camp…but Dragon came over and…
Dragon cried in his lap, then Walker got him to do his chores, right after his nap.
Walker’s not dumb, you see! And serving second breakfast was the right thing.
Dragon then did everything, Perfect and looking, oh, so, fierce. But then again,
This time Dragon did his poopy thing… On the General’s wife’s prized roses…
Not a good thing! So the TRUE chain of command, Declared Dragon…
A baby again… Especially, when he cried, cuddled, and napped in her arms…
What could the General do? Orders are orders… they say, And the General…
He’s no dummy, so Walker brought Dragon home that day. My hero in the end!
Written by Carol Eastman 1-29-2015