You are the starlight
On my bank of snow,
The sunlight on my fields;
You make things grow.

You lead the way to
Another summertime;
A lovely day hike
Another hill to climb.

I am the skateboard
You are the wheels.
You are the orange
And I am the peel.

You are the fairy tale
That keeps coming true.
I am one of the children
That was raised in a shoe.

You were the diamond
And I was the rough.
You were the golden link
I was the frayed cuff.

You are the road signs
I am the lonely road.
You were the Frog Prince
I was the lowly toad.

You made today have
A possible tomorrow
And helped me stop
Wallowing in my sorrow.

Now I hear beautiful music
Instead of commercial jingles.
Is this what it feels like
To no longer be single?

I am the skateboard
You are the wheels.
You are the orange
And I am the peel.

Lives are funny things,
They’re held together by shoe strings.
By where we go and who we meet.
Marked by muddy boot prints of leisurely jaunts,
Straining climbs, and high adventure.
Where tongues wag in thoughtful reminiscence of sunny days and rainy nights,
Of puddles and delight;
Worn leather speaks of distance,
Endurance,
And the importance of taking things in stride.
Though less outspoken and often underfoot,
The sole is planted firmly in the heart of discovery.

Whimsy plays too big of a part
In what we call normal life today.
All the Gods the snobs invent
Have these expensive feet of clay.

You can put a monkey in a cannon
But that don’t make it incendiary.
Anyone can smoke a camel, but
That doesn’t make it a dromedary.

We need to have a nursery rhyme
That warns us about politicians.
Specifically how to disarm them
And turn them into electricians.

You can’t roll a joint properly
While surfing on your Sea Doo.
You have to ask the questions
But the answers might mislead you.

Unlike an elephant who remembers
Who knows what the thing recalls?
Voters forget every fourth November,
The outcome far too often appalls.

Bringing popcorn to a media circus?
Plays too much like a bunch of selfies.
The humor there is out of service.
Leave that movie on the shelf, please.

You can sing a song of sixpence
But it doesn’t buy a flipping thing.
It’s hard to find an honest man
When artful liars get everything.

i walked into a lions den
and tapped the beast upon his brow.
He turned to me with deep surprise
and let out a tremendous growl.
I said to him, I must confess.
I've come to be your meal tonight.
The lion looked me up and down
at all the tender parts to bite.
The lion let the kettle boil
But couldn't stop himself to ask
just why the sweetest tasting thing
would commit to such a gruesome task.
I looked that lion in the eye and
and spoke with an alarming calm.
"Lion, find my heart to be
Full of those that meant me harm.
take them, may they give you strength
when they could give me only sorrow.
Have them, may they feed your fire
i'll start finding love tomorrow. "

shannon april alice 1/19/16

The caterpillars preach their sermons,
Crickets string their choirs,
Under the shade of Broadleaf.

Beetles teach their classes,
The sunlight shines through the foliage,
In the morning at Broadleaf.

The leaves are green,
The airport of insects is blue,
A canopy above Broadleaf.

Maybe I'm not right for you,
Maybe I'm not right for you,
This dissonance that makes me up
May be incongruous with you.

The petty things that sting my sides..
Drive me crazy as i smile.
My arguments, they come in strides,
But they have been building up for quite a while.

I know that who I am makes no sense,
So I'm in disbelief when you paint me with bliss.
You'll see that feeling will subside--
The "I don't think it can get any better than this"

I meander because it's safe,
I walk around liquid concrete,
Because I'm not nice option to get to know,
Just a nonsensical girl who's nice to meet.

Maybe I'm not right for you,
Maybe I'm not right for you,
But i will never let you know
Confusion tends to spite the truth.

let's ride our bikes into the sky
i'll lean in to kiss your nicotine lips
and you'll laugh
pull away
and whisper something about your dreams being in the clouds
so far out of reach
& my tastes are too dry for yours
    you like to peruse the deep wines of France
           meander on roads that exist only in your mind
                  look upon the words of Bukowski
                          and the art of Bansky
you've woven your own reality
you dream of holding a cloud
i say that i'll change
that i'll catch you a cloud
you laugh & say there's no hope for me
so i got you a cirrus
      as whimsical as you fancies
     as high as your spirits
as fleeting as your love
i hand it to your
        you raise your hand
                      now my cheek stings.