frog wanted an invite to the Halloween party up on the hill
Kept asking to go, but was told no by the host, Mr. McGill
Frogs are not welcome, he said, I am sure you understand
I am a frog-bigot in this far-fetched fantasy land
frog did not understand, but thought he could sneak in
He borrowed a witch’s hat, as the party was about to begin
Hopped up there and sat on some books, wearing a grin.
What are you? Someone asked. He said, “I’m a librarian!”
Willows waving in the window frame.
Six cheerful mice dancing on the door.
I’ve changed my sweater to the same;
It’s gray as the daytime clouds outdoor.
Deciduously delicate as lace, ne’er still.
Dependent on limbs, movement with wind.
Inside the poet’s space, her spouse sawmill.
Does he dream of the zigzag step incline
Or a lovely walk to church on Easter Sunday?
Does he trace the smiles and shadows of sun
And the rising of our Savior; celebration heyday
As we praise shoulder to shoulder as one?
The willows wiggle like children on the pews;
Dressed in Spring green, sunny yellow, sky blue.
Like branches, the mothers hold them in the queue,
Though little bodies, hats and ties are all askew.
The poet’s husband’s hopped up in time,
Forgotten what was on his mind, in sleep.
The writer’s rat-a-tat-tat must quit her rhyme
And ask her tree for help with counting sheep.
A redheaded pileated woodpecker hopped up a tree
Barn swallows fly around me
Doves were cooing down in the dale
Other birds joined in, I even heard some quail..
While walking the dog in the late afternoon..
There was a cute puggle who snored up a song
When joeys hopped up bridging along,
Emu chicks joined with boom notes and grunts
Whilst dancing along with top wild stunts.
Penguins marched in forming a line
Tenors, Sopranos, Divas divine,
Bowerbirds trilled with whistles and squeaks
Then Aves had united with many techniques.
Ensemble was formed by powered forte
Rhythms caused riffs to encore that day,
And all this occurred when music was free
From snores made a song a large symphony.
Christmas reimagined by who…
not Horton nor Whoville
but Doctor Who
A bride vanished from altar
Her reception,
hopped up with Santas and a tree
Ornaments’ revolving, lifting,
evolving into bombs
Jitters, not the groom or bride
A network web
of complexity below
the complex
Racnoss wrapping
sweet gifts
not at all nice
10/29/2022
*For those not familiar, Racnoss are Arachnids
At first, just ridicule and taunt
Quit complaining, says my aunt
Technology to brag and vaunt
Apps to load and screens to flaunt
I fear I’m haggard, tired, and gaunt
I’d settle for a dream to haunt
To don the mask, a task I daunt
But if I can be your confidant
We may have even reached detente
I hopped up and I took a jaunt
To breakfast for an egg croissant
Though I’m not yet a dilettante
Or leaping the baptismal font
I finally got the sleep I want
I was once hopped up to visit the zoo
Until hopped upon by a kangaroo.
Never met such a female grouch!
She beat me until in her pouch
A can of snoose I placed for her to chew.
A little bug hopped up on me
He said, 'How do you do?'
I said, 'I do just fine, I think
May I have a word with you?'
He said, 'Sure, sir. How 'bout now?
I'm on break from my chores'
Said I, 'Oh, good. Let's chat
in this grocery store.'
We exchanged our names
and a little small talk
Then I got to the point
Saying, 'You haven't a friend
in this entire joint'
'I know,' the bug wept
I know that you've kept
up an all-points alert
so you don't get hurt
if I leave my imprint upon you'
'But now that the coast's clear
Please accept my apology, dear
and with it, a cure for my virus'
So quick as a wink
The bug with good cheer
Poured me clink, clink ~
a little Corona Prescription Beer
people are sick
society stifled and slowly sliding away
will one willingly escape
from stagnant airs
kiss me says the fool
six pence none the richer
but richer they claim to be
in shallow folds
of bills
put off to tomorrow
shaking hand(out)s
without any silly gloves
it's not greed
when you act out
when a want is a need
distance what distance
(un)masked attention
let's be social
(in)security
no content nor consideration
for the old
for their young
crying
generations dying
before blind eyes
all hopped up on weed
“...The great teacher inspires.“ William Arthur Ward
“Gratitude is a powerful catalyst for happiness. It’s a spark that lights a fire of joy in your soul.” Amy Collette
“Gratitude turns what we have into enough” Anonymous
THANK YOU MR. FOX
What does the Fox say -
his kind eyes, emphatically speak;
his hopped-up ears in tune.
A sheltered girl sans life experience
in a room full of snapping turtles.
Mr. Fox did not extinguish the timid light.
Instead he sprinkled ideas — fireworks explode.
The Fox says very little and so much.
His pointed ears and gentle spirit
saw hope in a teenage cocoon.
The Fox was wise...his tale goes on in mine.
Dendrites lift you up — rolling out the clouds.
10/29/2019
Favorite Teacher or Professor Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Cooke
Roommate is on my plate
Dropping herself into my grits
Little flecks of warm porridge splash into my eyes
It is one of Trixie’s assistant muses
She has a killer smile and rainbow hair
Hi she greets me with telepathy
Lump of eggs rises
I see two glowing green eyes
Getting higher and taller.
Fascinated I smile
Wondering what will happen next
Grape jelly jar falls over with a clink next to plate.
“She is comin!” A tiny red brownie driving gem encrusted chariot hisses.
Rainbow muse and mini-dragon jump aboard the chariot
Trixie my main muse is riding black puma with stars chasing them now
Her head turns toward me. She glares and sticks out her tongue.
The perils of having a hopped up overly territorial muse
I cringe wondering what diabolical fate will next befall me.
oak buds stimulate
the crevices of the mind —
hopped-up flowerage
adventurous vine —
the tongue-twisting succulent
of wildflower verse
4/25/2019
It began as an idea.
Hopped up on my dendrite highway.
Zoomed through my wide-open interstate and took me on a ride.
I was holding on as hard as I could.
A smile turned into a flat out worldwide laugh.
Idea one turned herself into upside down girl,
Flatulent gorilla, chameleon on a stick.
A poem? A canvas? A play? A book?
A novel? Possibilities overtook me
And threw me into a soft nap.
Ideas do this to me sometime.
To percolate prettily while I sleep.
I never color inside the box,
Because I do not see a box,
I always see a diamond or a star.
My hazel eyes on the prize, I took out my favorite glitzy paints and began to devour myself.
On a canvas, on the wall.
Drew the brush swiftly onto the wall and down onto the floor.
Never stopping, happily, zanily out of control, abnormal to some,
Completely normal to me.
Beginning once again to create what will become a teensy bit of me...
Fully into the
Kingdom of “be yourself” which my dancy, prancy muse and I will leave
In my wake at my wake.
Furiously creating a non-final me.
Written 12-14-2019 Contest: Creativity in Visual Arts
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
She opened her legs then hopped up on it
She gripped it tight then sat down on it
He started to move so she began to ride it
She loved the feeling cuz she enjoyed it
She pulled out the whip to show that she was master
And when she swung it he began to go faster
She started to scream at the top of her voice
For the way he made her feel her voice got so hoarse
After a thirty minute run he started to tire
For this horse was no longer young he was ready to retire
Just thinking of you yesterday,
As my hopped-up heart beat so fast;
I was worried and anxious of
What happened to you in the past.
Yes, today is no different,
You are still on my distressed mind;
Passing me by are nights and days,
Memories are not left behind.
Tomorrow will certainly be
Another new, bleak, unsure day;
But I still hope for a promise
Of the things that I often pray.
There is nothing that I desire
But the joy that makes your eyes glow;
Though sadness may come annoying,
I know soon it shall fade and go.
I miss you so much, oh my dear,
My love for you is really true;
To you I will give my whole life,
For I always care about you.
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