What I did, and what I did not,
Stands before me on the eve of New Years.
What did I do this year?
Did I do something that will make me cheer?
Or something average and normal.

Questions that were not answered,
Still stay by me in the New Year.
Things that were not done,
Are still with me, waiting for the fun,
Of when they are finished.

Books I did not read,
From my side will never be freed,
Until they are completed.
Things that were done are now past,
Memories that can be retrieved or forgotten.

Oh how I hate when writing becomes an assignment
When I think I have to do a poem, and a chapter a day
But writing isn't an assignment
You write and don't write as you please
There's nobody to force you except yourself

see
the light
as
it
shines
through
your
window

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Sometimes I  think that it is hard to write
Sometimes I think my poems are nothing
Like they are just sentences
With line breaks
Sometimes I think I can never finish a story
I stare at the blank text-box
Hungry
As if only words will fill it up
Sometimes I  think my picture books won't appeal to people
That they won't like it
Sometimes I  think i'm not a great writer
That my poems don't mean anything
That my stories will never finish
That my picture books aren't great
That i'm not the writer I thought I am
But
I can't let those appeal to life all the time
Because
My poems usually send a message
My stories can be short, and still be good
My picture books can send messages and humour out to people
Sometimes you have to look for the good skill in you
Or else you'll never appreciate it

Spring is my favorite season!
Oh, spring is my favorite season.
I pretend to plant apple trees
and I sit on my knees.
Oh, spring is my favorite season.

Spring is my favorite season!
Oh, spring is my favorite season.
The sun is in the sky
and I never need to cry
Oh, spring in the favorite season.

But no season is flawless
because that would be lawless.
In spring the wasps and hornets come out
but
the flowers start to sprout.
So spring STILL is my favorite season!

Oh my, oh my
Did you see the girl with the boy
She was skipping on President's Avenue, and how charming she was
She helped the old man cross the street and opened doors for the eldery
She was such a darling soul!

Today I saw a monster,
right under my bed!
Maybe it wasn't a monster,
but I still screamed and fled.
It was green and hairy,
it had red and yellow eyes.
But i'll make sure it doesn't get me,
he'll cry like a baby if he tries!

Tonight, I was excited to go to sleep,
the monster would go away.
But, if it didnt,
it would have me to deal with the next day.

words and ideas are whizzing in my head, an abyss of imagination.
book ideas, future careers, and some type of strange creation.
but some of them never make it out of my head. they stay, still yet a dream.
and no matter how crazy it seems,
I know I accomplish the biggest of ambitions,
it is forever my mission.

Valentines being passed around
Love is in the air
Though it's only cards and candies
It love, we don't care.

You say I am too skinny,
and you call me a *****.
You are kind of mean.

You take all that I have to eat
and you steal my treat.
You are pretty mean.

You take my money
and ****** my honey.
You are really mean.

Mommy says I have to fight back
and stop you from stealing my snack.
I think you will maybe stop being mean.

Turns out Mommy was wrong
you sang a mean song
about me
and you stole Miss Becky's tea
and blamed it on me.

Maybe you will never stop being mean.