They said, “Don’t run,” so I skipped instead,
With jellybeans bouncing over my head.
They said, “Don’t draw on the walls or floor,”
So, I painted a dragon that opened a door.
They said, “Don’t climb on the monkey bars,”
So, I built a ladder to visit the stars.
They said, “Don’t bounce on the bed,”
So, I moon-jumped with a helmet of thread.
They wrote their rules in black and red,
And taped them to my toaster bread.
But rules, you see, are made of rubber
They stretch and squeak and sometimes blubber.
So, if a rule feels much too tight,
Just twist it left or stretch it right.
And if it snaps and hurts your hand,
Slingshot it back to No-Rule Land.
Where rules are made of bubblegum,
And break themselves just for the fun.
She appeared beside me
before I could climb on
the shiny palomino—
barefoot, bright-eyed,
with a plan already forming
behind her charming grin,
so naturally I let her
canter first and then I’d take the reins.
She rode it with unstudied grace
and I was mesmerized.
We talked of stars and silver ships,
of other worlds and Laika—
the brave little dog
who never came home—
but must have found a garden—
on another planet—
with open fields and softer skies.
She rocked on, lost in orbit—
hair lifting with each gallop,
the world beyond the saddle
fading into breeze and stardust
as time trotted on unnoticed.
And when the rocking slowed to stillness,
she hopped down easy as a sigh,
thanked me with a quick bright smile,
and gaily skipped away—
off to find new wonders waiting
hid in the shimmer of the day.
I stood there, nickel spent,
half-laughing at my luck—
had I just been bamboozled
by a spacefaring femme fatale?
Perhaps.
But I’d talked with a girl
who knew the stars by name,
and I decided
that was worth the ride.
If I were you, and you were me
We wouldn’t have to worry
Salvaged by intergrality
We’d live a different story
Inside our own illusion
We’d share our personalities
Illusions aren’t confusion
Illusions make realities
I want to fly, a man once said
The birds can, why can't I?
They laughed at him you must be mad
Climb on the roof and try
Later his daring dream came true
Without that dream of flying
No flights we’d book to get us to
Wherever we desire
Illusions save me from today
Tomorrows petty pace
Continues in the same old way
Days walk across my face
No warning says that it’s too late
Or its too early to begin
If I’m in power to create
Our own prophetic dream
I’ll do my part the best I can
Gale winds will mix my dust
With yours, according to the plan
That is unknown to us.
I inhabit a sacred expanse,
Lined with the finest ingots of light
As heaves from this bosom
Climb on a mantra's trail of love
So quiet, I meet my god self.
But no one is fast enough.
On the roof.
Sheets of ice are fickle.
He tried to hurry.
You shouldn’t climb on the roof.
This winter is proof.
That our hands shake when it’s freezing.
Fixing the roof should have been easy.
Thankfully you fell into the snow pile.
It was scary for awhile.
You got a little scraped up from the fall.
You decided to give your mom a call.
The phone rang.
Like the sound of icicles rang.
As he fell…
He hung up the phone in a hurry.
Somethings need to be fixed quickly.
Others don’t.
My dragon Rutherford is a dare devil out for a thrill
Along the way he likes to roast a good kill
I climb on his back, not knowing where we are going
If he says “bring a coat” I figure it might be snowing
He flies easily between continents in a couple of hours
He has other talents, some truly remarkable super powers
Invisible during flight, he sometimes messes with a 747
I tell him to stop it, or he might not make it to heaven
Rutherford knows I am strict but loving, he is my tight pal
He flies me to other galaxies, I am his favorite old gal.
He has been my dragon since July thirteenth of 1972.
Exhausting summer if you knew how many miles we flew.
He eats along the way, roasting pigs, sheep, cattle, and one time a boar.
I know he is getting ready to feast when he drops out of a soar.
He always wants to share, but I bring my own snacks.
I don’t like to eat anything that moos, gobbles or quacks.
Last week we flew to Scotland, which was quite a trip for me.
All because Rutherford had a craving for Welsh apricot tea.
He is a marvelous pet, who has best intentions about me.
I love my dragon Rutherford, together, we are happy, you see.
Here’s a staircase to nowhere
You can try to climb on top
Just to see the world from there
While ascending, you can drop
See the steps are wet and rotten
Loose, unsafe and slippery
What is up there you've forgotten?
What do you expect to see?
“There's no view, but an old station
Which was built of wood and stone
I assume there's renovation
Could be an industrial zone
I can't say why I must be there
No one is supposed to know
So I follow steps to nowhere
It’s the way for me to go.”
These fears I have swallow me whole though I fight to be released I feel I've gone rouge which has moments of crying spells but no tears have yet fallen taking swings at the gates but I've only wept disappearing the feeling of being astonished to thigh own self in dept how do i pay with empty pockets chasing stars that climb on to me effortlessly feels if run backwards towards my rewards I've already received trained to think first my emotions head started the race misplace energy for my fiery stage of evolving
It makes a stop; the kids climb on
And poof! The day camp bus is gone.
The parents wave; the kids, strapped in,
Are off to let their day begin.
Some campers smile, while others fret,
Not certain of their prospects yet.
Still, most of them (not everyone)
Will spend some hours having fun.
The afternoon will come at last,
Their camping session over fast.
The day camp bus will bring them back,
Their parents waiting with a snack.
And doesn't response in sentences.
Maybe that's why,
I feel the need to climb on fences.
Even though I later bleed,
my colored sheets.
There is a gate in the midst of
A small garden, maybe a red or
White.
I went over and met a dwarf who
Claimed its possession of the gate,
This is my gate and area, what are
You human in this sacred forest?
What mushroom! What leaf!
What another bird!
Birds fly to the west and I am following,
Jogging turns into a short run and my feet
Find themselves on some white thing.
Fluffy and wet, in truth! This is actually
A cloud.
Crystals climb on to me, from their silky nests
And then I turn to walk north
I went to bed a girl with heavy sleepy eyes
and soon was in a deep magical dream
I had been transported into another realm
a portal to a world of blue sky and wispy clouds
and verdant green forests and meadows
where wildflowers flourish
and trees in evergreen hues grow enthralling
scenes ethereal, captivating and serene
and waiting for my arrival
a pure white unicorn with transparent wings
a gift from dream fairies
they have sprinkled my dream with fairy dust
he bows to me so charming
so beautiful, breathtaking and stunning
I stroke him and whisper my love
he nudges me and I climb on his back
and we are galloping through the forest
over meadows we are soon flying
above the trees and valleys
we follow a winding river
stopping on a cliff with a view of the ocean
and the crashing waves against ragged rocks
then, I am lying among the wildflowers
lost in their colors, shapes, and textures
oh, this is divine, delightful and heavenly
not far my fairy unicorn is nibbling on grass
and suddenly everything is whirling
the images fading
and I wake up in my bed with the sun
pouring in my window
“Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone.”
-Madonna
Life can’t be known in its entirety,
It seems to hide a part of its face,
We can’t mirror its race,
We climb on Hope's ladder.
Life is a mystery,
Missing pieces in puzzles,
We sojourn in search of them,
We're still far from the helm.
Life is a journey,
It’s end is out of sight,
We bask in today’s light,
Wake up in tomorrow’s gloom.
Life is a portrait,
Radiant yesterday,
Gloomy today,
We add our colours to conceal its blotches.
Life is a book,
Scripted by the unseen,
No one has seen its last page,
Not even the oldest sage.
Life is a river,
It meanders at some points,
Undetermined by us,
Determined by an unseen force.
October 23, 2023.
preview not a pinnacle
expectation unfolds a dampener
when there's always another
peak to climb on
the humpty dumpty horizon
Opportunities missed by the score
never to come 'round anymore
Each time my knees shudder and knock
clanging tick of the circus clock
I take a chance, climb on the merry-go-round
frowning, the smile of the clown
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