Playmate Change
Haiku: by Tom
12/18/2021
Can you change my dime
without giving me pennies?
I prefer nickels.
Say Say O' My Playmate
come out and
write with me
you bring your
your pencils
three
and we will
scribble
play writes
or
do some
little ditty's
tell a funny joke
or
two
or
maybe three
maybe about
you and me
made up
about
me and you
and made
with some colors
like ocean's blue
that hum
a Cosmic tune
of sweet
Commentaries
that can ramble
a childish tune
to the
sounds of
Crayola Crayons
crying out to you
Come out and play!
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Her writing was milder.
She lived in the backwoods
Where they made canned goods.
Laura wrote her children’s series
Little houses were full of theories
Her name became famed
She was just what she claimed
I’m sure she knew many other dearies
I read most every Little house book
It was long before there was a nook
I longed to go back to that kind of living
Where there seemed to be so much giving
September 16, 2019
Clerimerick Couplets (Hybrid Form) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
(A Children's Poem)
Visions form as the cold wind blows
I watch the flakes, see a carrot nose
Red scarf around a cold, cold neck
tall black hat, arms of forked sticks
Stay away, sunshine, my friend will die
his smile will vanish, his buttons will fly
I will be sad as I contemplate
my long-lost friend by the garden gate
A little girl with fairy tale dreams; playmates only she can see
spending her time playing like she was big...eating honeysuckles and serving tea
her playmates loved to listen to her talk, she did it very well
she told them all her secrets....she knew they would never tell
a young lady now, her playmates were real
unsure of how she was supposed to feel
nothing ever went her way, she found a way to deal
heartaches and heartbreaks lead her into her grown up life
she attempts to 'for reals” be a mommy and wife
being a mommy is what she was supposed to be
but the little girl in her wanted to be free
she ran and hid, just like before
but her playmates didn't listen to her talk anymore
she talked to herself, but that was no fun
she didn't feel loved by anyone
the little girl didn't want to play for a long long time
her playmate she could not find
she stayed big all the time for a long while
she was mad a lot and she could not even smile
I think somebody said a prayer for that girl for sure
because God sent her a playmate who was big like her
her and her playmate play..... even though they are big
and that big girl smiles like the little girl did
You want to be my playmate
O baby it sounds so great
I know love is not a sin
God knows well what I mean
Baby at long last I can see
Someone who really loves me
I feel so lonely you know
I will never let you go
You are delight of my eyes
No more sorrow no more cries
I watch my young son
Look full-faced into the rugged wind
His blond silken hair is blown about
Like spikes around his elfin-like face.
He knows nothing
Of how the wind starts
Or how it effects
His cool Maritime climate.
Only that this invisible wind
Tickles his eyes and nose,
Stirs up fallen leaves,
And challenges him to dance
- Open-armed -
Into the deep bosom of the wind.
I'm standing in the doorway,
And watching for her car.
Mommy said she comes today,
I can’t wait to feel her arms.
She always reads me stories
And tickles me to sleep.
She gives me toys and bible books
That I will always keep.
I ride her back like ‘horsie’
She makes me laugh too much,
And throws me up into the air,
This person that I love.
I wish that all my friends
Could have someone like her.
A grandma to adore them
And put them in her prayers.
My brother is too young now
To roll upon the floor.
Whenever he gets old enough,
He’ll join me at the door.
We’ll watch for her to get here
Then play with her all day.
There’s no one else like 'Nana',
It’s meant to be that way.
While on the way to visit my grandsons one day, my daughter sent a text picture
(the one you see in my blog) of my grandson standing in the doorway with the
door wide open, waiting...looking for my car. He knew I was coming. There's
something very special about the bond between a grandparent and grandchild. I
wrote this for my grandchildren.
Looking out
Of our upper room window
Over looking the garage
Where my old court stand still, with
Its ring attached to the cemented wall
I see my dearest son, five years old
Playing basket by himself
Dribbling the ball
Zigzagging, against the unseen opponent
Then he jumped, releasing
A long range shot
And the ball landed into the net. Shoot, three points
So happy to see him, playing
Thou, as he walks to recover the ball, to do it again
I can feel his breath
Heavy and discontented, touching my heart
That made me whisper to the wind
Don’t worry, son
Dad’s rushing enough to give you happiness
I promise you
You’ll have your own playmate
Your beautiful mom is now one month late