smooching cotton clouds
soars higher as burners roar
reaching wondrous heights

— Marsh

At four, you took my hand and pulled me to your bed,                                                            
your small form cuddling, curling, you urgently said,
"Tell me… tell me a story! Story, make it long",
I began to tell the story, the story of when you were born:

Drums and bugles, bubbles and balloons,
somersaulting clowns and calliope tunes,
you came out to meet them, on the day that you were born,
and they were there to greet you, through a January storm.

Lions and gorillas marched to military airs,
snowmen and snowwomen danced without a spring time care,
somewhere in the harbor, a tugboat played a note,
and all the while you smiled a smile, upon a birthday float.

Just like a circus troupe, we formed a great parade,
and sauntered to the birthing bed where your mother lay,
she picked you up, she held you, as close as close can be,
her hand in mine, she softly said, “Now... we are three.”

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks

Buses are emptied unlike
many minds at this time
in the trudge to work
beneath the canopy of
buoyant barrage ballons.

Another factory day ***** in
the dark figures downcast with bad
war news and routine ritual.
But there is comfort to be had
in the chorus of familiar talk.

A black boy came upon me
running with the wind
He rushed passed me
With one blue and one yellow balloon
Bouncing excitedly behind him
Like some faithful pet companions
His laughter in both sight and sound
Spread all over his face and around
The bright bouncing balloons pulled
Hard against the strings
And he laughed and laughed...

I wish to be colorful and bright
Everyone would be pleased at my sight

I  desire to be touched by delicate hands
Little kids would be my friends

For once, I wish to be tied by a string
Giving me a sense of belonging

And when they'd let me free
I would sing a Carol of glee

Losing the control of my mind
I'd drift freely with the wind

High above the world I'd fly
And float between the layers of sky

When drained of all my energy
As tired as  I'll ever be

I'd lay flat on the ground
There I'd have a sleep profound

And when the stress would be too much
I'd have the luxury to burst

To fly too high and to be shattered too soon
In nutshell I wish to be  a balloon

Balloons, balloons!
Floating through the air
Balloons, balloons!
Floating without a care
They’re all sorts of different colors
And all sorts of different shapes!
Some are round and others look like animals
They look so cute. I want to hold one.
So I walk up to the salesman with a coin in hand.
“One balloon please,” I say, as kind as I can.
And now, I grasp the string in between my fingers.
The sensation, it lingers.
So I release it and watch the balloon float up.
My body fills with glee, so I jump.
The balloon, it’s soaring high.
Forever lost, above the puffy clouds in the sky.

Blue Balloons …by Jessie 12/05

Blue balloons of inflated dreams
Set aloft by buoyant optimism  
Carried on high, by rising warm winds
Afloat… on undulating currants
Adrift… without will
Higher and higher, the air thin and cold
Oppressive and restrictive
Despondent cobalt sphere
Ponderous and slowly becoming void
The thinly stretched translucent skin, smooth no more
Unable to attain a pinnacle, higher than the dream itself
Limpid blue balloons




Sad Dreams…by Jessie 12/05

Exuberant children dreaming large
Boundless expectations
The tethered umbilical released
Connections broken
No fear of dreaming big
Willing and eager; entertaining and encouraging the blossoming dream  
Age and knowledge chipping away
Life’s reality invades
Heavy and empty
Vulnerable as those around see through
Exposed to the elements
Dreams never reality, better left dreams
Solemn adults