Towards the edge, of the pool
I, was running bare.
Not very brave.
There already, in the pool,
swam the others, as nature made.
All my skin was a showing,
such a scary, sight to see.
But the others, kept on cheering,
so that they, could get a peek.

Running bare, into the water,
never again, not on your life.
Running bare, into the water,
embarrassment, I won't survive.

I couldn't find, secluded water,
nor a floatie, wide enough.
I couldn't find, any shelter,
that would hide, all my stuff.
In the sunlight, they could see me,
splashing water, so to hide.
As my cheeks, were getting redder,
others swam, to be by my side.

Running bare, into the water,
never again, not on your life.
Running bare, into the water,
embarrassment, I won't survive.

With all the splashing, in the water,
they thought, I was drowning.
They all swam, out to help me,
just to find, me sitting there.
In just a few, inches of water,
with the sun, strong, beating down.
After the laughter had subsided,
I got a sunburn, lotion rub down.

Running bare, into the water,
never again, not on your life.
Running bare, into the water,
embarrassment, I won't survive.


Inspired by the song:
Running Bear, by Johnny Preston

Bees in a hive, making honey
United, in duty, for the colony.
Zestfully searching for hours,
Zig zagging among the flowers

Sunrise, their tunes they deploy,
Oscillating, their songs of joy.
Nesting and putting on a show,
Greeting the bees as they go

Speculations abound, on the news and Internet.
Doomsday prophecies, when the planets alignments set.
But I have my theories, that I will share with you,
might as well accept it, there's nothing you can do.
Twenty-twelve is coming, that is a simple fact.
Just sit back and read along, have yourself a laugh.

I believe on that day:

That the aliens that abducted Elvis,
to be their king, will bring him back to us.
Their ship will land on the White House Lawn,
a whole lotta shakin', will be goin' on.

I believe on that day:

Man will find chocolate is a miracle drug.
They'll melt it down and use it, as synthetic blood.
Saving the lives of thousands of women on the verge.
They will find that P.M.S., finally is cured.

I believe on this day:

Jerry Springer will announce his intent,
to run in the next election to be our President.
He has a sure fire way, to end all the wars,
let the leaders fight it out on his shows stage floor.

I believe on that day:

All manner of nonsense will ensue.
I don't think it is a day, that we will come to rue.
Bets in Vegas will still be laid,
our nest payday's we will still want paid.
The Earth will turn upon it's axis,
there will still be, death and taxes.
No.  2012, should not be feared.
But, I have my seat reserved, on the next ship outta here.

Bringing up a child, can be difficult,
Especially one with an vivid imagination.
Constantly doing things that get him into trouble,
Always wanting to know "Why can't I".
Usually having band-aids on his knees and elbows.
Supposedly doing what he was told,
Even when no one is watching.

Instigating Trouble!

Sassy attitude towards danger,
Always the first to take a dare.
Immediately, regretting decisions while airborne.
Dirt encrusted jeans and shirt his daily uniform.

Setting sights on the next big adventure with,
Ooops!  That didn't go as planned, as his next words.

Today you bear the scars of yesterday.
Holding court, showing them off
Attention from the girls who want the bad boy.
Trouble should have been your middle name.
So, I just wait for the next call from the E.R.

Would have thought you'd have learned the first time.
However, you do make me proud.
You will always be my baby boy.

If you want to see the country side,
You could use any mode that you choose.
What better way than a bicycle ride?
No need to hurry and miss all the views.

Side by side you could ride on your way.
But, there is just something missing when you do.
For a leisurely romantic day,
may I recommend a bicycle built for two.

We would be stagnant down to our core!
Where would the challenge be in life's game,
if we had all been cut out the same?
Our lives would be just one big bore.
No personalities to explore.
We'd just be another What's-her-name.
No imaginations to inflame,
no reason to open our minds door.

So sing out, Viva La Difference!
Go embrace, all of those silly quirks.
Of unorthodox, show tolerance,
within "The box", you weren't made to lurk.
To be unique is a preference,
it's what makes all humanity work.

There came a tapping at my door
as evening shadows crossed the floor.
Upon my throwing of the latch
a wind the door blew from my grasp.
On my stoop why there did stand
A strange enigma of a man.
his ruddy lips were quite out of place
with the paleness of his face.
His head did sit on a long elegant neck.
He wore impeccably well his suit from Strohm & Beck.  
His feet were incased in the finest red leather.
With golden threads they were sewn together.
When he did ask if he might enter within
His voice was gravely as though in use it had rarely been.
I bowed and bade of him to warm himself by my fire.
For to deny his request I instinctively knew would be dire.
I offered up a glass of Bond,
Which I am well known for being very fond.
He raised his hand to politely refuse.
I noticed he was looking slightly amused.
I grasp my glass of double scotch neat
and tried to look calm as I took a seat.
He then sat back relaxed deep in my favorite chair.
What he said next did on end stand my hair.
"I am Death." he simply stated as fact.
I must admit, I tossed my double Bond straight back.
"I see". I replied trying my nerves to quell.
"I have heard about you." There! I thought that sounded quite well.
A grating chuckle he then did give out.
"I have come for you Sir." I then passed clean out.
Upon my regaining my senses I saw,
sadly I had not been dreaming after all.
There the man Death did simply sit.
Just looking at me as though I were a half wit.
"You misunderstood me dear Sir,
I come for conversation, as it were."
Well now that just befuddled me all the more.
I covertly judged my distance to the door.
"As you may well imagine as happening,
the ones I collect aren't up for chatting."
Well I could surely understand
I doubted I would have want to talk as a dead man.
I decided I might as well go ahead and ask.
As it seemed of my senses, I was suddenly lack.
"Why did you happen to select me?"
"When more scholarly men I know there to be."
His bottomless eyes gave nothing away
as the ends of his mouth slowly curved he did say.
"You have a certain... shall we say flair" He stated while he chuckled
"For being a man who stays in his cups." Oh, now that did rankle.
"So no matter how much you swear tonight the truth
no one will believe, they'll assume you were....juiced."
he settled back deep into the plush chair whileI rankled.
Stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankle.
"Do you like my boots?" Wiggling his feet and gestured with his thumb,
all the while acting as if we were the best of chums.
"Why yes, they are the finest made I'll wager. Where did you get them?
No! I don't need to know. But I bet I can guess not from some beggar."
And so the night continued on with a storm ragging
and our idle conversation never went lagging.
We spoke of books and fishing holes.
Lovers lanes and Political moles.
He beat me in a game of chess.
But it is at cards, that I cheat best.
He inquired of the widow Clarke.
I told him about the neighbors dog that barks.
he said he couldn't help me there,
The dog wasn't slated in until next year.
Slowly dawn began to rise.
I could barely hold open my eyes.
When finally he rose to take his leave,
A cold kiss on my forehead he gave to me.
I am sure I stood there in open mouthed shock
While he faded from sight calling "See you tonight at 10 O'clock.
Now for the rest of the day I have a full on quandary to fear.
When the clock strikes ten, was he coming to converse or to collect me from here?

In a faded dress she wore, of crimson and pink pearls,
on her pedestal she sat, parasol, she did twirl.
Though age may have faded plumes and placed lines on her face,
she refuses to give up on dreams of silks and fine lace.
She knew that her lovers, would be coming back to her,
to once again, furnish her with jewelry and rich furs.
Through the years she waits, her mind slowing slips away.
Insanity took control, while vanity takes sway.
As her lovers did marry off, or just died away
and her peers morals, of fidelity, won the day,
less and less, she was in demand, as a paramour.
Vanity and ego, sealed her fate for evermore.

Vanity and ego, sealed her fate for evermore.
Less and less, she was in demand, as a paramour
And her peer's morals of fidelity, won the day.
As her lovers did marry off, or just died away,
insanity took control, while vanity, takes sway.
Through the years she waits, her mind slowly slips away.
To once again furnish her in jewelry and rich furs,
she knew that her lovers, would be coming back to her.
She refuses to give up on dreams of silks and fine lace.
Though age may have faded plumes and placed lines on her face,
on her pedestal she sat, parasol she did twirl.
In a faded dress she wore of crimson and pink pearls.

C  Charitable with her heart
H  Honesty is her way
E  Eternally devoted to her faith and God
R  Riotously funny
I  Inspiration to others
E  Ever on the go

B  Best friend, that I never met
R  Routinely can be found playing Family Fued
I  Involved with her children
G  Graceful in forgivness
G  Gentle with her words
S  So thankful, am I, that we found each other

I see thee in yon grey mist.
A swirling, beyond the pale.
When an errant breeze does kiss,
mixing the ethereal veil.

Mine eyes perceive human form,
my heart yearns that it be true.
Then, away, by wind is torn,
leaving memories of you.

Perhaps tears, within mine eyes,
did a time, confuse my sight.
Having me see only lies,
of a love lost in the night.

A Genie, I found, did offer me,
a few nice wishes.  In total, three.

Now, this was going to take some thought.
To rush into this, would serve me naught.

I mustn't squander this precious gift.
For never again, the top could I lift.

No need, had I, to wish for life long love.
My hubby and I fit like a hand in a glove.

To wish for riches, I would be a dummy.
To me, there is such a thing, as too much money.

Eternal life, would be really a waste.
Knowing my luck, I wouldn't age with grace.

It was then my wishes came to me.
Crystal clear. The results I could see.

My first wish is for man to see where he stands,
in the scheme of things, how he leaves his brand.

Next, I wish for the Earth to be healed.
Free of all pollution, natures beauty revealed.

Last that mankind would actually learn from its past mistakes.
Maybe then, Mother Nature, would quit raising the stakes.

I, exist between me and myself,
in an ever deepening void.
Whatever angle life is dealt,
of emotions, it seems devoid.

In an ever deepening void,
I realize, I'm slipping away.
Of emotions, it seems devoid.
Yet, so comforting, I think I'll stay.

I realize I'm slipping away,
as I gaze at myself in the mirror.
Yet, so comforting, I think I'll stay.
I am my own souls bearer.

As I gaze at myself in the mirror,
I see what lies beyond my own eyes.
I am my own souls bearer.
How could I not have realized?

I see, what lies beyond my own eyes,
whatever angle life is dealt.
I am my own souls bearer,
I exist, between me and myself.

You are the cooling breeze,
which does soothe my fevered brow.
The sweet water, that does sate,
my parched views of the here and now.
So whispered, your words of love,
as to hear within the bower,
a poetry of chaotic rain,
falling upon the morning flower.
A moonbeam, which guides my night,
when unsettled, I rest not.
So gentling, to my mind,
when a calmness, I have sought.
All these things you are to me,
your very soul, these do impart.
Love brings new meaning when, so dear,
I am nestled against your heart.

I knelt down and cried, within His gentle, multi colored hands.
Confessing to my sins and hoping He would understand.
I realized my own forgiveness was at my command.
I had been harder on myself, with my own reprimands.

Gently, in multi colored hands, I cried and knelt down within.
He said that my beliefs, were not looked upon as sins.
For was He not a part of everything we had been given?
And was He not at the core of every Sects religion?

His multi colored hands, gentled, as I knelt down within and cried.
For God has not one Nationality, nor one color, I realized.
And I did not see a sign that read Only Christians Need Apply.
An all encompassing love, was his way of a reply.

One must give credit out to one and all,
humans are, after all, territorial.
A gold star, pat on the back or sing their praise,
sets a parameter around their stage.
So thank me, for getting your projects done,
I realize your dating the bosses son.
To climb the ladder of success you must,
tread firmly upon the rest of us.
But, remember the steps will work both ways,
The time may come, I'll be your boss one day.

A name that brings rain to mind,
washing fresh the air.

Clouds embracing night time sky,
moonbeams scattered there.

Winds that carry scents aloft,
having me breathe deep.

Lightening dazzling the eye,
memories I keep.

Snuggle in quilts soft,
or stand on the porch to watch.

Cup of hot chocolate,
in my hand, with foamy froth.

Lights out, candles lit,
there were times it gave a scare.

Each time I hear it,
the name, Stormi, takes me there.

Beyond tragedy, there is a hidden strength that comes to the fore.
Strength to do what must be done, welling up from deep with in our core.


Fortifying us, pulling us up on our feet, when our steps falter.
Helping us to guide others, who are victims of the Assaulter.
Allows us hope, when there is none to be found, and sadness invades.
Showing us, with new eyes, that which will be our future and bright days.
It is that same strength, that lets us say our good byes to loved ones,
continuing on, keeping pride in them and our Nations Sons.
With it we embrace the blow that has been dealt us, making us stronger.
Defeat is never spoken.  We live with the changes and fear no longer.


It is our strength, that binds this Nation as one, above the cries.
For America may bleed, but we shall not ever lie down and die.

Actions speak louder, overtime.
Remaining unspoken between two hearts.
When souls, mated as one, entwine,
small gestures, will play their part.

Remaining unspoken between two hearts,
a need, that will fill the void.
Small gestures will play their part,
in keeping the romance deployed.

A need that will fill the void,
in an otherwise cold existence.
In keeping the romance deployed,
you break down all the resistance.

In an otherwise cold existence,
your faith in each other will hold.
You break down all the resistance
and learn what the heart's always known.....

Your faith in each other will hold,
when souls, mated as one, entwine
and learn what the heart's always known,
actions speak louder over time.

With the moon, as our chaperone,
for miles, the beach, is ours alone.
Your hands, rest, within my hair,
holding me, enraptured there.
While you feast upon my lips,
waves, about our ankles, slip.
Their caress, is smooth and soft,
while yours, leave me wanton, lost.
The ocean breeze, cool and light.
Yet, I am afire, now, this night.
Time, stand still this night, I plead.
For more of him, I do greed

This, the first time, beneath moonbeams,
of summer love, I feel the steam.

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

Plink..plinkplink...flip, *****, ****, plink.
Donk, donkdonk, plink, doink, ****.
Flipflap..****, plinkplink, doink.
Doink, doinkdoink, whirrrrrr, buzzzzzzzz ****.

"Oh ****".

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

Plink, doinkbink, flipflap, bink.
Twirrrrrrrrtwirrrrrrrr, twirrrrrrr *****.
flipflap.....clunk

"Oh....Man"!

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

P­linkplinkboinkdoink...flip...bonk shhhupduuuup.
****, doink, *****, shuuuup.
plink, ploinkploink, **** doink.
booooouuuuupboooooouuuup...*****
flipflap...clunk

"Shoot"­!

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

plinkplinkplinkplink, doink flipflap, bonk, *****, twirrrrrr.
doink, *****, bonk, wuuuuuup, twirrrrrr, puurrrrrrrr.
plink, ploink, doinkdoink, purrrrrrrr, shuuuuupshuuuup
plinkplinkplink, doink, flip, doink, flip, trrrruuuuurrrrp.

"YES"!  (shakes machine)

TILT!  TILT! TILT!

"NOooooooooo"!

What we do, reveals us.
          
         What we say, explains thus

L Lightening bolts of curiosity................Let them strike.
I  Ignite the imagination........................Follow its flame.
V  Vehemently pursue your dreams........Let them lead.
E  Enevitably follow your conscience.......Heed its call.

L  Levity is inherent..............................Let it free.
A  Allow your inner child to play.............Share your joy.
U  Unpredictability is encouraged...........Surprise yourself
G  Go ahead, splash in a puddle............Silly, is O.K.
H  Have a belly laugh daily.....................For what ails ya.

L  Logic does not rule the heart.............Hear it sing.
O  Over the top, head over heels...........Go for it.
V  Vast is our capability........................See the possibilities.
E  Even when mad, say these words......I love you.

Stare into the fires flame,
against your mind it will wane and wax.
Watch the tendrils of smoke rise,
the lines between light and dark relax.

The glow reaches out just so far,
then sweet darkness reclaims her control.
It is there at that juncture,
where a mind can lose its self control.

One must not tarry there long,
at that gauzy intersection.
For that is where time and space,
bend and twist your eyes perception.

Shadows play along the walls,
blending to be an evil twin.
Remnants that were once familiar.
Even your silhouette will join in.

Shades prance with great joy,
keeping up with the flickering beat.
Your brain will scream "It's not true!".
Insanity is now complete.

Your cool as frost stare,
while coyly playing peek-a-boo
from behind a fan of clouds,
has kept your wanton visage burned
upon mans imagination.
You have mystified for eons,
with a slowly batting eye.
Drawing upon our souls,
as a tree draws moisture.
Slowly, yet surely siphoning our lust.
Men have stepped a kiss upon
your delicately powdered face.
You have left them craving more.

To ****** a moment of time,
weave it into something tangible.
(No, not I).

Create imagery with words that dance,
around and behind the eyes.
(No.  Not I).

Pull emotions by blending,
amounts of self, facts and fiction.
(No, not I).

Holding the soul of the reader close,
so that they live that moment.
(Not I).

Accepting you have failed
and nothing more needs be written down.
*(I).

He wears his halo with a bad boy attitude,
Walking the line between Saint and Sinner.
Oh, what it is his crooked smile does to you.
To your mind, he's a prizewinner.

His wings are tarnished, not meant for flight.
Before he was angel, he was a hellion.
Standing now, on the side of right,
yet, still capable of rebellion.

Holding open doors, he does with style.
He moves with the grace of a Tiger.
In others shoes, he would walk that mile.
He wears leather better than any biker.

His kisses are fire, that always linger.
His come hither eyes melt your knees.
It tickles your fancy when he caresses your fingers,
He always says thank you and please.

His romantic side, he's not afraid to show.
He can be a mechanic, carpenter or plumber.
He enjoys eating dinner in a candles glow,
he's even willing to snuggle when you slumber.

But!

Is he there for you faithfully when it isn't fair weather?
Does he appreciate the time you spent cleaning?
Will he conveniently forget plans you made together,
when a buddy, with a new toy, calls for help wrenching?

Will he let you drive his truck he calls "Baby"?
When sick, will he allow you to smother?
Does he like cats, yes, no or maybe?
Does he even like your Mother?

Will he take out the trash without being reminded?
Does his ***** socks even get near the hamper?
When out with you, to other girls is he blinded?
Does he understand, camping to you, means in a camper?

Does he eat the dinners you cook without ketchup?
Does he throw his wet towels on the floor?
His own kitchen mess, is he willing to clean up?
Is he even willing to help with house chores?

Your internal clock is ticking under the gun.
You have used all of your feminine wiles.
Is he the man you can call "The one"?
Can you get him to walk down the isle?

Every year it was brought down from the garage rafters.  Green metal frame and
springs, green canvas with white fringe and a little green pillow.  It was laid out, hosed
off and erected.  Grandpa couldn't have done it without us grand kids.  He said so.  It
was placed in a spot of honor.  Just a couple of feet from the picnic table and in a spot
that was always in the afternoon shade.  A folding T.V. tray was placed next to it to
hold cold drinks and snacks.  Within a few days, the grass under the frame would be
brown and dead.  The grass at the sides of the hammock would just be plain gone.  
Scuffed away by feet, as we kids sat on the edge and swayed side to side.

After mowing the lawn, washing the car, or doing any other chores needed, Grandpa
would go inside and put on his "Hammock clothes".  This consisted of a pair of Bermuda
shorts and a ribbed tank style Tee.  White socks and brown sandals completed the
outfit.  Once dressed appropriately, he would head for the hammock.  The first "sit" of
the summer season was always a bit touchy.  One had to get use to the hang of it.

There he would stand, next to the hammock.  Cold drink in his one hand, the T.V. tray
forgotten.  His slightly bald head and stick thin legs already slightly sun burned.  Slowly,
he would start to lower himself.  Reaching back with his free hand to grab the edge of
the hammock.

Note**  of course us kids, grandma and mom would all be spying out of the corner of
our eyes to watch this ritual.

Then came the "Grandpa Sit".  Grandpa would rock slightly forward and back on his
feet.  1-2-3 and ....SIT!  A few wobbles.  A couple sloshes of his lemonade.  All of us
yelling  "Whooooaaaaaa".  He would sit there on the edge of the hammock, holding
himself steady with one hand on the edge.  His feet firmly planted on the grass and his
other hand holding his cold drink high aloft.

Now, the sandals needed to be taken off.  One of us grand kids would run over and
help take them off.  Tickling his feet as we did so.

So far, no damage to life or limb.

Ah, but he was not yet fully on the hammock yet.

Now came the "Swing and lie down" move.

Slowly, grandpa would reach behind himself and grasp the far edge of the canvas.  
drink in his other hand still held aloft.  O.K.....1-2-3...SWING the legs up and quickly lie
back.  Let the hammock come to a stop.

Where's Grandpa?

On the ground on the other side of the hammock soaked in lemonade.

Summer was officially started!

I come to you by way of my pen,
to dispell some rumors told.
To hear the lies being spread,
does make my blood run cold.

There is no basis in facts,
that I have a heart of gold.
Never should it have been said,
that I could be a beauty to behold.

Then there is the one that states,
that I have complete self control.
Aparently, someone out there,
swears, I am not yet looking old.

I have a group of so called friends,
that claim I am not thick-skulled.
Some even swear I am demure
and have never been overbold.

It's a shame that lies like these,
have a way of taking hold.
Eventually, they may have even I,
resembling this picture they mould.

This story I am about to unfold,
is a favorite about my Grandfather.
In which he starts out acting very bold,
yet, ends running up a painful lather.

Down the dirt road, from where he lived, when young,
was a farmer growing watermelons.
Ripe, ready to eat, on the vines they hung.
From this patch, the farmer then, did sell 'em.

Being a boy with several brothers,
who were always doing as boys will do,
didn't take long, for one to dare the other,
to steal them a watermelon, or two.

Lo and behold, there went my young grandpa,
climbing through the barbed wire fence.
While his older brothers all watched in awe,
as he crawled through the tangled vines, so dense.

He looked around until he found the one,
that was the biggest that he could carry.
Cutting the vine, he hefted the melon up,
running towards the fence, in a hurry.

Well, that old farmer was wise to boys
and had watched my grandpa crawl through the field.
With his double barrel shotgun, he was poised,
to make sure, no more melons, he'd steal.

The farmer had loaded his own brand of shot,
filled with rock salt instead of lead.
Grandpa's backside got peppered while he did trot.
I think nothing more need be said.

They ask, "What's the sweetest thing that's happened to you"?
I would have to reply, "It started when I was two".
That is when I, Mother, sister and brother,
went to live with our Grandpa and Grandmother.

They both sacrificed, from that day forward,
working long, hard hours, always undeterred.
To give us a home and happy memories.
It couldn't have been better, for Mom and us three.

Mom worked evenings at the Sears and RoeBuck store.
Grandpa at the publishers, working on the printing floor.
Grandma changed jobs to the school cafeterias,
so when we were home from school, she could be near us.

Grandpa was our dad, in our hearts and minds.
Growing up with two Moms was a terrific time.
Yes, living with our Grandparents was a special world.
I grew up to be a very thankful girl.

What's the sweetest thing that has ever happened?
It started when I was two, and has never slackened.

Perfection is but a day dream away,
I usually go there at least once a day.

When stress in my life gets to be too great,
I sit back, close my eyes, breathe deep and wait.

Slowly the scene behind my eyes does gel,
a scenario I know all too well.

Once again I am thirty-nine, pain free,
there never occurred this back injury.

Here in my arms I hold my first grandchild,
without pain in my legs and back screaming wild.

Then when she is two and yells "Gamma, run",
off I go, joining in, I'm having fun.

All my grandchildren can run up to me,
hugging me deeply, wrapped round my knees.

Piggybacks, peek-a-boo, tag and jump rope,
all these things I can do in my day dreams of hope.

My sons come up and give me big bear hugs,
I am able to reciprocate that love.

At our sons wedding, with my husband I dance,
without giving that cane a thought or a glance.

No scars across my front, nor down my back,
titanium bars and screws, I lack.

I can swim, twist, jog, laugh with life and bend.
I wish my perfect world, when I open my eyes, wouldn't end.