Pirate boy stopped by one day to try out three of my teas
He especially like the ones that ended with some sort of berries
boysenberry, cherry, and raspberry he took with him to the seven seas
his parrot was fond of our pastries, and used the magic word, please.
So, we sent him with a tin of our best chocolate chip cookies.
We read of their adventures, and could almost feel the sea breeze.
Pirate boy and parrot sent us a missive from the Isle of Carpi.
Alas, they told us, we are down to one single cooky.
That day I had to forgo school, I guess played hooky.
For I wanted to send them cookies, biscuits and a scone.
Because I could tell they were sorry they had ever left home.
They sent us a marvelous thank you note in the form of a poem
Only the very young & very beautiful can be so aloof
Hanging out with the boys all swagger & poise
Our new dashing wannabe tyro is ample proof
(coined by Tom with aplomb.. purloined by me)
Mused Caribbean calypso cool fused with well private school
Cherished plush rhapsodies segue with relished lush melodies
Lips licks fancy flicks & tricks picnics phoenix from the Ashes
Remedies for believers lulled by lullabies from lyrical levers
Poetic shapes lacy lines never frenetic balletic aesthetic
The boundary rope dope trope Jacob is our new hope
The computer says “YES” suitor for the future prophetic
Or down with the kids well Bethell’s the real deal rookie
Badgers hearts swell feels like proper Test cricket nookie
Tell his chilled southpaw drawer got more than Cookie
While other than Joe everyone else was playing hooky
Golden curls & olden twirls.. BET HELL for the bookie
The autumn air is crisp like a potato chip
I can taste the breeze baking tree leaves
The color of them dance on my pupils
And I carry them within my spirit like song
The grass still green is freshly mowed
And the geese are hanging around
For the hidden treasures in ground
Like we do at thanksgiving dinner time
The garden is still colorful and bright
Flowers seem to breathe in gold sunlight
And I play hooky from cranberry chores
To take in the sounds smells others ignore
Salud to who we don’t have to perform for,
wiping off makeup and the masquerade.
The joy’s quality time and nothing more,
a picnic lunch by the sea the day’s made.
Maybe all we do is just talk and talk
laughing endlessly into the sunset.
Our casual shoes were made for this dock.
That random hooky day’s a clever ploy,
a simple moment fills me with such joy.
Happiness derived from a day at shore
making memories that will never fade.
The unexpected is always in store,
wild are the moments I would never trade.
Caught inside the hustle of the boardwalk,
or on the shore lying back on a blanket.
We don’t ever pause to look at the clock.
Work hard play harder for the sweetest toy,
sharing with your friends all that you enjoy.
unmasking a sunshine holiday
feeling free and delightful in the gentle breeze
smiling at the first sight of the cool clear water
the whole of my soul is free and i cherish the vibe of it all
totally relaxed, eyes closed, massaged by rare rhythms
the cardinal is expresses her appreciation of the beautiful day in her elegant element of fusion
completely by myself my sanity shows its gratitude in complete stillness
blue skies inspires me to play hooky from the normalcy of life
my imagination decorates the bullseye of its unexpected confirmation
the joy in the air around me right now has a maternal ambiance
as a direct result, i simply Cherish The Blessed Day
Woke up to a perfect Summer day,
a blue sky hits the Tesla’s tail lights;
Let your worries fall apart and fray;
Hard working girl is gassed up to go,
a cup of coffee to chase those dollars;
But that Sun’s got a sumptuous glow;
She lets out a loudly pent up sigh,
it’s crystal clear a break is needed;
The Model Y says ‘Rules don’t apply.
If you won’t rest? I’ll make it happen.’
Fired engine starts and all bets are off;
Time to ride, go where she’s never been;
Feeling burnt out is easy to see,
that’s the time to let cruise take control;
Turn right, we are off to play hooky.
Three mischievous boys played hooky from school
Big eyed Red, Ted, and Fred thought they were cool
Until frozen with fright
Their scared faces turned white
Before they were gobbled up by a ghoul
the elephant circus is coming to Kalamazoo!
Kids were so excited, they played hooky too.
Running toward the tent that housed Ellie, the star.
Frog was practicing his tricks, he could play a guitar.
Pig was jumping out of a large red top hat.
Wow! Said some of the felons, what do you think of that?
School teachers were flying in to grab kids by their ears.
Potential students ran off, making jokes and jeers.
What can you do? The elephant said to the teachers.
Why don’t you stay and enjoy the show and our features?
Principal closed the school and there was a loud hooray!
Everyone laughed as mice chased a circus cat that day.
Books stacked in the floorboards,
her breath on polished glass
Together you would drive,
skipping yet another class
Playing hooky in a hand-me-down,
if only it could last
The memory of her fades each day,
like long neglected brass
Thank the Lord for that car,
& pray you don’t forget her laugh
If I could be a kid again
I’d run headlong, unfettered in the wind,
or pretend I was Tom Sawyer
or Huckleberry Finn.
I’d put frogs inside my teachers desk
and tie knots in young girls hair,
if I could be a kid again
I’d shoot arrows up in the air.
Aiming high into the sky
towards an enemy in my head,
perhaps a passing birthday balloon
or a flying elephant instead.
School would be vague memories
of playing hooky left and right,
while fishing in my favorite pond
every morning, noon, and night.
I’d run around my little town
like King Arthur in my world,
eating ice cream and candy bars
while chasing girls and squirrels.
If I could be a kid again
I would count the stars at night,
just like how we used to do
with a full moon burning bright.
When all the world was made for me
And my nickel candy drops,
I always shared with my good friends,
and those I loved a lot.
But if I could be a kid again
and start over back in time,
I’d have to say “No thanks, today,
I’ve enjoyed the hills I’ve climbed.”
I had my run and it was fun
but time keeps ticking by,
if I could be a kid again
I guess I’d like to fly.
I saw her from a distance and wondered if she was real.
Of course I am! Pink futuristic girl said, come over and feel.
Her hair looked like pop beads, there were stars in her hair.
Amazed and amused by her appearance, I decided to stare.
I do not bite she told me. I am not a deplorable Bite-A-Gram.
Then she called me something horrible, it sounded like Madame.
I wondered who had given her this look with rainbow eyes.
Was it perhaps my teacher, wearing a unique disguise?
I decided to return to school, hooky no longer on my plate.
Better hurry! Pink girl said. “You don’t want to be so late.”
Now I knew it was Mrs. McLadden, playing a trick on me.
I ran as fast as I could go, only late now by minutes three.
My wife decided to go to a strip club with me,
to prove to me that she is fun and carefree,
and I must say in all honesty,
it was like bringing the principal along on the day you play hooky.
On graduation day you put your saddle shoes away.
You took a naked walk through the garden till you got to the pool.
You had Vivaldi on steroids, Monet on cocaine.
You’re not Mother Theresa. No need to explain.
You smelt iron ore, limestone, and coke in your open-hearth heart.
Staying true to your infidelities is a heritage art.
Let us sit by the fire pit and burn some fat wood,
Making jests while the gods are at play in the forest around us.
Then I’ll sample your cocktail, while you’re sipping mine.
You like my Jack Daniels. Your Pepsi tastes fine.
I’m playing hooky in the Hollywood hills where aristocrats play,
On the first wicked day of summer with Lana Del Rey.
What you really think I'm going back there
What you really think I act back
Well I hope you ain't seen my past then
Front pages I got em in stacks man
I was the bad man
I was the dope runner
I was the cooker man
I was selling cookies and drowning rookies
And everything thing I found man
I was playing hooky since the 6th grade
With 2 girlfriends one on each hand man
I'm just the sand man
I'm just the mothaa you can't stand here
Same scene; same birds, flies, insects; same plants, and fall flowers,
Sameness has built lasting nests, like small social weavers;
Boredom, like ivy creep or jasmine, creeps, and hovers,
Tedium grows hooky and sticky like coal-cleavers...!
I avoid crowds, yet, see the same faces at the end,
Each route I tread toward, the same destiny does tend;
Everyone does see; just like me; all feel yet pretend;
Who is wrong? Who is right? Who here does ever repent?
Compromise is the word they use; with whom? When? What? Why?
Conciliation! What? What does this mean? Earth? Oh! Sky?
Each way you think is only your way; they seem to say,
Confusions and contradictions are trends of the day...!
Mono! Boredom so! Tedium! Do they touch your heart?
Plunge! Dive! Drown! Come alive! Yet, life is not full of naught!!!
25 October 2021
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