Don't go in the water
with a cut upon your skin
Don't go in the water
if you want to keep your limbs
Don't go in the water
It's been raining all this week
Don't go in the water
Not the river, bay, or creek
For if you go in the water
You will be the catch
To the very small bacteria
Entering through your scratch

It's so much fun
To use the tongue
And all that it can do
The way it dances
And it prances
Behind my lips of two
Up and down
And all around
When it's being used
Oh the tongue
Is so much fun
When entangling with you

I caught myself a Leprechaun!
It took two and seven years
More with wit than with brawn
and a variety of beers.
He is a little son-of-a-gun.
Fast on his feet is he.
He is a little wild one.
But not w-i-l-y as me
Now three wishes I do get
but need them I do not.
For anything I'd ever want
Is right here in this spot

Sitting under the pecan tree
Relaxing in the shade
The breeze she came and played with me
Cavorting through the glade
Until the ants from firetown
Marched up my legs post haste
And made it to my midsection
To bite upon my waist!
Jump I did and slap myself
For what else can you do
When colonies of fireants
Are taking over you?

this runs out he asks. I’ll reinvent
myself! What happens when a model
loses her figure? What happens
when an actress ages? What happens when

the sky turns to ice? When you lose your
love, your paradise? When everything you
believe in turns to rust. What happens when

it rains dust? I thought about the
question. And I came up with this –
what happens when it ends?
A new beginning somewhere still exists!

Poetic proclivities
or a taste for rhyme
won't make a poet
all of the time

But discussing the subject
revising the plan
makes a prize-winner
from an also-ran