Does anything look more serene
Than sailboats in a harbor scene?
Their stark white jibs and hulls that glide
A sense of peace and calm provide.
I've only seen them from the shore,
Not having been in one before,
But I am grateful they're a'sea
When near the water I can be.
Though other boats with foamy wakes
Look lovely, I would wager stakes
That none of them with sudsy trails
Could soothe like any boat with sails.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Dancing with abandon
Is what children tend to do.
They bust their moves with untamed joy,
Their pride just beaming through.
Yet when self-consciousness begins,
They hold their true selves back
And spontaneity may never
Clamber back on track.
I love when Henry dances,
(He insists I join right in)
For no one watching can control
An ear to earlobe grin.
I dread the day embarrassment
Will rein in his delight,
‘Cause Henry’s dancing makes me feel
Like everything’s all right.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Two newscasters were shot on screen
By some crazed gunman, first unseen;
And all who saw it were in shock,
An image they can never block.
Of course, all horror is a draw
But I am glad I never saw
The bullets hit, the bodies fall;
They pulled the footage, after all.
My heart goes out to kin and friends,
Who’ll see a scene that never ends –
Their loved ones taking one last breath,
All future plans cut short by death.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
It’s gratifying when you get
A positive reaction
To something you’ve accomplished;
Thus, there’s double satisfaction.
For when you’re feeling self-fulfilled,
No matter what’s at stake,
Some glowing feedback only serves
As icing on the cake.
Yet still, it’s nice to get acclaim.
Though pride should be sufficing,
The very best part of the cake
Is usually the icing.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Another long road trip, with nothing to do.
I stared out the window; the sky was bright blue.
My sister was napping and I was so bored.
I’m such a good kid, I deserve a reward.
My friends have TV’s in their cars in the back
But my parents say, “No, that’s not happening, Jack.
Use this car time to think; there’s so much in your head.
With a screen there, your brain will get lazy instead.”
So I stared at the billboards and let my mind go
‘Til my eye saw some movement and whaddyaknow?
Clinging on to the window, with all of its might
Was a neon-green bug that looked panicked with fright.
Its big eyes were wide open and I understood
That it needed my help so I did what I could.
I cracked open the window and inside it flew,
Landing on my right knee, as I knew it would do.
It gazed up at me, saying, “What took you so long?
I was starting to wonder if I might be wrong.”
Then I glanced at my parents to see if they’d heard.
One was driving, one texting; they said not a word.
“Oh, I’m speaking bug language,” my new friend replied.
“You can hear all my thoughts that I choose to confide.
You can answer me back without speaking out loud.
It’s a talent we share, so we both should be proud.”
“How’d you ever find out I could do what you say?”
I peeked over at Jane – she was sleeping away.
“Oh, we bugs have some powers. I thought you could use
A companion to help entertain and amuse.”
“Well, you’re right,” answered Jack. “What’s your name, little bug?”
“Both my parents say Douglas, but please call me Doug.”
As the miles clicked away, under darkening skies,
Doug the bug treated Jack to the world through his eyes.
All the hours disappeared while an insect and boy
Found so much they could share, which they both did enjoy.
When the car finally stopped, Jane woke up with a start
And their parents turned ‘round, thinking they were so smart.
“See, we knew you’d be fine with your mind as your friend.
Not a peep of complaint from beginning to end.”
“Guess you’re right,” answered Jack. Let them think what they’d think.
But Jane smiled in surprise when Doug gave her a wink.
For the world of a child has some secrets to hide
Which most grown-ups forget, but some bugs may provide.
So the next time you’re bored, try to open your mindAnd a bug they call Doug may be what you will find.
(this was written for a contest at PoetrySoup - my goal was to sound Dr. Seuss-ish)
Monday, August 24, 2015
When kids get told to “Act your age,”
They understand what’s meant,
For acting younger than their years
Is what was evident.
The same applies to “Dress your age”
In many people’s eyes,
As if by wearing youthful clothes
One’s years are in disguise.
But what if someone still prefers
Those younger styles of dress?
Would other folks’ opinions
Of that person then be less?
Concessions must be made, of course,
‘Cause ridicule’s no fun,
But how one feels in what is worn
Is how the battle’s won.
And so I’ll wear my checkered skirt
Which hits above the knee.
Perhaps it doesn’t match my age
But it still feels like me.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
An empty cubby in a desk,
A basket full of toys;
Combine them and sit back and watch
The skills a tyke employs.
Each item’s picked up, one by one
And transferred to the niche.
The door gets opened then gets shut
At every single switch.
When all the toys are in the desk,
The game goes in reverse,
The concentration so complete
There’s no need to converse.
It’s fascinating to observe
Such focus and control
And all the joy engendered
By accomplishing the goal.
A toddler’s world is waiting
As each day he conquers more
And the times I see it happen
Are occasions I adore.