Dear Sir, I wish to lodge a strong protest
Against the upkeep of our college grounds;
This afternoon, my body was at rest
Beneath a shady tree, admiring sounds
Of blue birds calling one another.  How
They sing their love of England's summer, joy
Effusing from their whistled tune; yet now
I fancy that their song is but a ploy
To captivate a poor soul such as I,
Who seeks to find solace from lectured tomes
And so reclines to watch the clouds float by.
Beneath the trees these blue birds call their homes,
        My head was bruised by fruit they dropped on me!
        I trust you understand the gravity?

RESPECTFUL
                       HELPFUL
                                        REVERENT
        ­                                                     KIND*

Steeped in licentiousness
engulfed in shadows

Cigarette smoke curls upwards,
spiralling into the ether and downwards into my lungs.
I sit looking at the cigarette packet
reading the warning:
Smoking seriously harms you and others around you
How true.
Except, it isn't the cigarettes that have harmed me, it's your lies.
Did you think you'd be able to keep me in the dark?
Did you think me that stupid?
Tut tut, lending me your car, not emptying the ashtray,
didn't think you wore lipstick whilst driving, just sunglasses.
The colour wasn't mine, too brash.
I take the last drag, watch the tip flame orange, and feel the nicotine calm
I pick the Marlboro's up flip the box over, and smile at the irony,
there in bold reads Choose freedom, we'll help you
if I rang the free phone number will they help me dispose of your body?
Your staining my kitchen floor, the nicotine is staining my fingers.

A seasoned lover
Clever
I praise her tea’s flavor

Thank her for the gift
Of morn’s spirit lift
My adoration she savors.

We sit with the brew
Talk a word or two
As each morning we do

For something more who cares
With a table and two chairs
Four hands and cups two.

A small time but enough
To make things less tough
Brave the day hereafter

A small space yet deep
Spent in blissful sip
In banter and some laughter.

I was born a flag red white and blue in color.
13 Stars And 13 strips.
I have been in many places. But still fly for only one nation.
I have seen many wars and been fired on and full of holes.
But I still fly high.
I fly on just about every building and many of home.  
I fly in some places only for the hero's that are dead.
I bow to no other and will never do.
I fly because I love you

So what
if things don't work out,
things get a little tough.
Do you think Pablo Picasso
had it easy,
Shakespeare never cussed
& what of Van Gogh,
was he not a troubled soul?
And I'm sure life was just
hunky dory for Gandhi,
grand for Tutu
& who knew
King would
be shot,
gunned down
for his color?
Like choice is
only a word?
We can choose to
wallow in the mire
or just deal
with the stupid ****,
get over it
& inspire.

Just a story.
When I was a kid... yes there was a time I was a kid, the garden was just South of the house.  Mom and I worked in the garden a lot.  Sometimes when she was not in the garden I would lay between the carrot rows, pull a carrot out of the sandy soil, brush off the sand and have a very fresh yummy carrot.  They were soooo tender they seemed to melt in my mouth.  Anyway, when I was finished eating the carrot I would put the top back into the hole.  No one was the wiser.  No one knew the difference or so I thought.  I did notice the carrot top would wilt which looked a little suspicious but... there was a gopher problem so maybe the gophers ate the carrots.  Sounded like a good story to me.  "Did the gopher eat the carrot mom?" "Yes probably so."

I found out years later.... Mom knew who the gopher was.  BUSTED.

I was telling this story to my grand daughter Lucy after school one day.  Her eyes brightened up and said, "That is a funny story grandpa."  So here it is added to the memories of a grandpa.  Lucy keeps telling people, strangers even, "you should hear this. Grandpa tell them about the carrots."  The story has latched onto her 5 year old brain and won't let go.

So... the next time you are eating a carrot... don't fib to your mom.