Another day
Another hour
This day will be over
And the night will be here
I will be sleeping
By then
Yes I go early to bed
Every night
And when I have my
Sweet dreams while I sleep
We are going to have
Some warm weather
It is coming
I can't wait for that
Amen
The end of winter is here
It will end soon
And the birds will be back
Home again
And I will be able
To hear them again
All I have to do
Is open my windows
And let the air circulate
Inside my house
And the birds every morning
Will wake me up
With their beautiful tunes
Early to bed early to rise
out standing in his field
good farmer Brown never stops
from dawn to dusk
rotating his crops
hoping it will bear a fruitful yield
when he brings the harvest in
tho' full of crows which do most harm
it's enough to make one's head spin
but that's how life goes down on the farm
Early to bed, early to rise,
makes you healthy, wealthy and wise.
Followed the age old saying,
Can't figure out why I am still awake on this moonlit night.
Under a moonlit starry sky spreading its silvery covers,
I might fall asleep instantly embedded in its soothing spell,
The train of thoughts going through my mind,
Might stop to appreciate the beauty of such a night.
I may wander in the meadows in the night,
The deer and fawns may come across to meet me,
While they would wonder about my troubled mind,
I would adore their beauty and forget all my woes.
The insomniac mind overwhelmed with streaming hopes and dreams,
Might ruminate to see the end of the shooting star,
The stars wandering for centuries in the distant galaxies,
Break loose, shine and glitter in the sky,
I know that I will love
Living my life every day
I know that I will suffered
With my sickness
I know that I need to go
Early to bed every
Single nigh
I know that I am not looking forward
To die
Sadness
I don't need you
Bring me happiness instead
Because it is happiness that I need
Badly in my life
Yes I am sorry for feeling grumpy today
That is because I didn't get enough sleep
Yes I went very late to bed
I broke some rules
That my Father made for me
He made a sleep schedule
It is for me to go early to bed
If I do that i will get plenty of sleep
I can't survive with little sleep
That is the whole truth
AIso I am not a morning person
That is the truth
Father bring peace to my life
Because I have no peace in my life
I am always worrying sick to death
About my life
Yes I know the morning will end soon
My Father
I am looking forward to the afternoon
I want so bad to have a little nap
Father you don't have to worry
About that
I made the choice to have a afternoon nap
Like real people do
They go early to bed
Every single night
So they can get a good
Night sleep
Like real people do
Every night before they sleep
They say a little prayer
To their Father
Like real people do
They work on a pollinator garden
Planting new plants that
Will grow in the pollinator garden
Also the bees will collect the nectar of the
Plants to make honey
Like real people do
They like to eat French toast
With honey for breakfast
Into my death I’d delve before I go,
Not out of curiosity per se,
Where, why and how I sure would like to know
To steal a slim chance to cheat my doomsday.
I’d leave off nasty habits, give or take,
I’d drink 8 cups, eat oatmeal, exercise,
I’d say bye to booze but for liver’s sake,
I’d go early to bed, early to rise.
I’d nurture and sustain my mental health,
I’d bury anger issues far aside,
I’d donate generously of my wealth,
By virtues’ pristine mandates I’d abide.
I’d avoid all traffic and derailed trains,
I’d let the crowded cruises go with ease,
I’d pass on risky, defective airplanes,
Goodbye exotic beaches and palm trees.
I’d much rather live hazard free and gay,
All healthy in one piece, body and mind,
I’d laugh in the face of fate if I may -
But from bland boredom most likely I’d die!
long winter shadows
end day before I'm ready
so early to bed
Dustmen were dirty
Shoes had holes
Typewriters qwerty
Clothes were old
School was tough, kids were rough
Summers were always, quite cold
Three-day week
No power at night
Week after week another union strike
Nothing to do, so early to bed
Wake the next day to no loaves of bread
No central heating
Winters were freezing
No phone tweeting
Less coughing and sneezing
TV was great, watching films late
The Friday night Hammer, the best to see
British bulldog we played,
as gangs in the street
The shop round the corner,
had all the best sweets
And despite everything, when all’s said and done
The discontented decade was still lots of fun!
Back to school,
Back to classes,
The holiday is over,
Children are happy-sad,
Early to bed,
Refreshed and sound to arise,
New session, new scheme,
New session, new curriculum,
Teachers are back on their feet,
They are faced with the daunting task of strategizing,
Preparing lesson plans and notes,
Assessing and recording,
Dealing with students' misdemeanours,
It’s an uphill task,
Students are saddled with
assignments, projects and term papers,
They bury their heads in their books,
There’s a prize to obtain,
The bell chimes,
The rooms are empty,
The halls are deserted,
They’re back with their families,
It’s clockwork,
Until the term’s end.
August 24, 2022.
The Ocean has no conscience,
no judgment, joy, or hate
She dances with you to her beat
in stirring waves of fate
With reverence you may enter
all blessings on the day
But just one slip and she reminds
what ancient mariners say…
“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning
red sky at night, sailors delight”
Her message best taken when early to bed
life in the balance, her power to dread
(Rosemont Pennsylvania: June, 2022)
Mr Nobody
Mr. Nobody is the one who did it,
Guilty as charged of accused crime.
Incredulous innocence looks on his face,
Mr. Nobody was culprit time after time.
It wasn’t me cried Mr Nobody,
Why am I always to blame?
Mother had eyes in the back of her head,
She knows perpetrators name.
Our house had several Mr Nobody’s,
No need of reproach or scold.
Who was the offender this time?
Two paces forward brave and bold.
Occasionally I was Mr Nobody,
Though cried my innocence in disbelief.
As the eldest often copped a clip,
Even when the youngest was thief.
Mr Nobody again screamed Mother,
All up the stairs now, early to bed.
Ignited by short tempered fuse,
It wasn’t me; it was my brother instead.
Here in suburbia - anywhere,
it's easy to be almost happy.
We have time and permission
to talk to neighbors, wave at strangers
as we stroll our leafy streets,
and
just over the county line,
Norman Rockwell is still painting
small town America
with its fields of dreams.
Nice here where folks are nice,
despite the occasional arrest
of a pastor or coach for pedophilia,
or the raids on that home
with its white picket fence,
the one neatly disguised;
that now and again
crack-house.
Peaceful here,
and
often over there
a serial killer sharpens his knives
but quietly,
so as not to disturb the early to bed,
half-dead.
I roning clothes – I love that job. Oh, my gosh!
L aundering them first is another one
O f numerous chores that let me wash
V arious things. Wash this or that. How fun!
E ven pots and pans! I must say . . .
H ow much more pleasure can there even be?
O n my hands and knees most of the day
U sing so much zeal makes me feel so free.
S uch a good place to be in mind and soul.
E very day I search for things that I can dust.
W ithout things to wipe off, what might be my role?
O ven cleaning. What joy! Mopping – a must!
R are are nights that early to bed I go.
K eeping up chores, I sing Heigh Ho Heigh Ho!
Sept. 6, 2021
Acrostic sonnet for Message in an Acrostic 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
My auntie’s a consummate flirt
and always wears a mini skirt
Uncle sees her toned thighs
and quickly gets a rise
It’s early to bed says old Bert
He deftly removes her silk stocking
And quickly their headboard is knocking
Much to their neighbours chagrin
The party wall’s very thin
Their bedroom antics he finds shocking
Dear Auntie Eth’s ninety years young
(And Uncle Bert’s very well hung)
They’re old, but not wrecks
They adore having sex
Both glad their mattress is well sprung
07/31/21
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