When first I saw your ink on paper
It plucked me to do tender similar
I loved the way your thoughts did flow
It made my own words seed to sow
Brave and bold my thoughts you see
To try to be like greats the key
But when my ink well ran its course
Emily, my devoted force
Can I love you now in shadow?
My thoughts are past in sorrow
Just take it as the wind will blow
Handsome words that sometimes flow
Your memory will live on in me
And others too, as it should be
Thank you for the lovely words
Quivering flight like hummingbirds
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
A gentle breeze passed by my face
I closed my eyes to feel it more
A tender touch from nature's grace
Days like this I do adore
A gentle stream went flowing by
Making song with rock and stone
Softly sounding, almost shy
Peaceful waters seldom known
A tree stood still, yet waved at me
With gentle branches stretching out
My mind in trance how this could be
As nature takes her walk-about
Moistened leaves began to cry
But birds still sang their songs from branches
Singing out, the clouds came by
They yielded not and took their chances
Now time and tide will never wait
It's time for me to leave this place
On this day I'll close the gate
And let the sun to sleep with grace
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 6:17 PM UTC
A long grey beard runs down to his tummy,
He carries a wand by his side,
A big pointy hat sits atop his head,
And he wears his blue robe with pride.
A wizard is he, full of good magic,
Helping those who are in need,
With the twitch of his wrist and a whispered word,
He can cast a spell with great speed!
The other day, there was a dwarf
Who was lost and alone in a storm.
A wizard came by and with a zap,
Sent the dwarf quickly back home!
If this wizard was a good friend of yours,
What would you ask him to do?
Fly to the moon or become a great king?
I bet he would do it for you!
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
A Horse so beautiful and rare to see;
What is it called and where could it be?
On its head it has a horn,
Oh yes, I remember! It’s called a unicorn.
They are mostly white;
Or of a color that is bright.
Are they seen in the night?
Or do they prefer the daylight?
Such mysterious creatures.
With majestic features.
Take a look and you’ll see all sorts of things;
Like beautiful wings.
We know not what you mean,
Nor where they can be seen.
Well, so it may seem,
Until you meet them in a dream!
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
I am so smitten with my little kitten,
She's fluffy and puffy and nice.
She plays with her ball and runs up the wall,
But sometimes she's scared of mice!
Now this might seem silly for my cat named Tilly
But it happened to her one night,
While sleeping and dreaming a mouse came a creeping
And woke her with such a fright!
“What’s going on?” It’s nearly the dawn!”
Said Tilly to the mouse with a frown.
He said, ‘It’s cold outside; I just wanted to hide,
Away from the noisy town.
So Tilly jumped up and looked at the mouse.
She purred at his ears and shoved him about.
She said, “You’re not scary. You’re as small as a fairy!
You can stay for the night, and then you’re out!”
PS: Tilly doesn’t eat mice because she’s a vegetarian!
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
Laura the Leprechaun lived in a forest,
Of all the Leprechauns she was the smallest.
But she didn’t care, as she was just happy,
Because she was loved very much by her Pappy.
Laura sat at meals with sages,
She unearthed truths hidden for ages.
Her unmatchable strength is her courage,
She is a budding plant of greatness.
Laura had a friend called Jane,
Together they played hide and seek in the hay.
At dawn, they roam the street with glee,
They fight at dinner over bread, butter, and tea.
Laura happily played around in the woods,
Picking the fresh nuts and fruits.
The leaves breathe freshness into her bones,
The pure air from the woods nourishes her soul.
Laura’s beauty was peer-less,
With a tender skin that was spotless.
She cheered the world with her lovely smiles,
And her happiness went on for miles and miles!
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
Teeny, tiny dragon—he’s not quite like the others;
He’s the smallest little dragon, compared to all his brothers.
Colors so bright that you can see from afar,
His skin is so bright—as bright as a star.
He’s the most colorful dragon that I have ever seen.
Oh, how I wonder just where he has been?
He has bright blue eyes with a very short tail,
Very slow-walking, almost like a snail!
He huffs, and he puffs, and he breathes out candy.
Much to the delight of the elf named Randy.
Truth be told, he’s a joy to the land,
They all think of him as a dragon so grand!
Take a look at him, you surely won’t forget,
A dragon like this, I’ll make you a bet:
More different than him, you will never find,
This little dragon is one of a kind.
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 11:47 PM UTC
Dangling on strings in an old wooden shed,
the puppets wait with hanging heads.
Dust filters through a shaft of light.
Everything's still and silent as night.
Suddenly the door opens with a boom.
The Puppet Maker enters the dusty room.
His smile is wide; he’s dressed in his best,
as he grabs the puppets from their rest.
The orange sun sets as he walks along,
The dusty roads, whistling songs.
The puppets are tucked in a bag underarm,
while they pass through the town and reach a farm.
A stage is set up for the puppet show,
They’re pulled from their bag and lowered below.
The quiet wood shed forgotten and past;
Replaced with bright cheering and many laughs.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC