Spring is for Fishing!

FISH

There are fish in this pond

You can catch if you wait.

So I’m here with my pole

and my line and bait.

Fish in aquariums,

swimming in streams

and tiny glass bowls,

there are fish in my dreams.

There are bluegill and sharks

And catfish and trout –

if you throw in your line

then you just pull ‘em out.

Bobby caught fish here,

So did Jenny and Ray.

you need worms and some patience –

That’s what they say.

But fish in this pond?

I don’t think they’re in it.

So I’m fishing no more –

It’s been over a minute.

 

Dad watches Sixth Grade Graduation

From the moment
I held all seven-and-a-half
Pounds of You
In the cradle of my left arm
     Those huge brown eyes
     Solemnly regarding my blues
To this moment -
     Where you are racing past
     Yet another milestone
I have loved – cherished - adored
and
Prayed for You
Like no one else.

You are an inspiration
A challenge
An enchantment

You are pockololos
You are frigefraters and hony pose
You have taken my heart
From being poverated
To being filled with joy.

Thank you -
for being an amazing daughter,
for being a wonderful woman,
for being a delightful friend,
for being.

Love
Daddy

 

My Dad Is Still Smoking

Dad is still smoking.

I’m really upset.

I found his old ashtray

and a used cigarette.

 

He says it’s not his –

I can’t really tell.

But I know he’s been smoking

His clothes have that smell.

 

I’ve shown him these pictures

of folks with diseases

that come from tobacco

with coughs and with wheezes.

 

But my dad is still smoking.

It makes my heart blue.

To discipline grown-ups,

What can you do?

 

My dad is a strong man,

he’s daring and brave,

but when it comes to tobacco

he acts like a slave.

 

He tells me he’s quitting

but when will that be?

He won’t stop for himself;

maybe he’ll stop for me…

 

The Traveling Sofa

My daddy and I are reading a book,

the two of us snuggled together

under a throw, sipping our cocoa,

safe from the blustery weather.

 

A book is a ticket to travel the world,

to take us to never-seen sights:

Camelot, Narnia, Wonderland, Oz,

or dreamy Arabian Nights.

 

Tonight we have traveled to tropical lands,

away from the ice and the snows

with Babar and bride, the king and the queen,

elephants dressed up in clothes!

 

A daily vacation of wonderful fun,

a marvelous, mystical ride;

a balm for the brain (settled down on your bum)

that’s what a book can provide!

Walking with Grady at 2 (in the Catskills)

Under every moist rock

clad in poker table green

a salamander wet with morning

was secreted away; burgundy flesh

a miniature message of silence

to a tiny boy, squatting on heels,

the little game hunter at work,

pudgy probing at skittering

harmless claws and take-it-or-leave-it tail.

 

the quiet he attained was a kind

of reverence, the misty silence of

the mountain wood spoke in voices

city kids don’t usually hear.

My Nasty Evil Twin

My Nasty, Evil Twin

I took my daddy’s tools out and used them yesterday

To build a really cool fort where we could go and play

But someone left them out in the rain and rusted all away

and so I have been grounded and can’t go out and play!

 

I have an evil twin, I think, and that would help explain

He looks like me, he talks like me, but I think he’s insane

If something horrible happens, you can bet your skin

Somewhere there behind it is my nasty evil twin

 

The day my skateboard ran amuck into the flower bed

Geraniums were everywhere and lots of them were dead

I’m not the one who made it crash, so you know who it was

Mom gets mad and I get grounded for the things he does!

 

The last time that my twin went wild, he rampaged thru my room

my clothes went flying everywhere and toys and games were strewn

There was hamster poop upon the floor and other ghastliness –

it took me over a week-and-a-half to clean up all the mess!!

 

We’ll put him in the basement and we’ll tightly lock the door

and sometimes maybe hear his chains a-dragging on the floor

he’ll beg and roar to be let out, but we will keep him in,

cause he’s crude and rude and rotten, my nasty evil twin.

 

It wasn’t me, I’m innocent, whatever it might be

It had to be my nasty evil twin instead of me.

So if you come to visit – be careful what you do

For if my evil twin gets out – he may be after you!

Oliver Worthington Twiddly Snoot

Oliver Worthington Twiddly Snoot

went downtown in his birthday suit.

A baseball cap perched on his hair

caused quite a stir when he got there.

 

The men made snorts, the children snickers

when Oliver showed up without his knickers.

“You’re a foolish twit,” the citizens cried,

“to look like that when you go outside.”

 

“You cannot come to town so dressed,”

and they called the police to make an arrest.

The mayor said “Son, for goodness sake,

“this display is more than a town can take!”

 

And Jennifer Jensen (the gossip queen)

declared his outfit quite obscene.

 

The police chief stopped him with a frown:

“You cannot wear that cap in town!

“It’s quite against the law, I fear,

“to wear a Yankees cap round here.

 

“Take off the cap, even if you’re cold!”

he said to Snoot, who was three years old,

and short and chubby and rather cute –

Oliver Worthington Twiddly Snoot.

 

Leaf Life (a poem for autumn)

lazily crazily

dizzily dazily

dangling high on a branch

 

slowly blowly

here I go-ly

breezes are making me dance

 

uppity scarily

high in the airily

my skin turning crimson and brown

 

snappity sneakily

crackity creakily

now I am tumbling down

 

downily downily

over the townily

how will I ever get back?

 

whoopsity swoopity

oh, dear, oh, poopity

catch me before I go…..

 

SMACK.

I’m Sick!

I’m sick! I’m sick!

I sprawl in my bed

with sweaty skin and a banging head.

 

I’m coughing up stuff

that’s all slimey and green.

My stuffy old nose is a snot machine.

 

When my eyes fall out

and roll on the floor

I won’t even notice or care any more.

 

My temperature has to be

two-twenty-five!

It must be a miracle I’m still alive!

 

I’m swallowing medicine

tasting so awful

to give it to sickies is surely unlawful!

 

Feels like a lifetime

of feeling this way.

I’ve been lying here sick since at least yesterday.

 

Art-Work

My sister is painting a picture –

it’s something that she likes to do –

of rainbows and puppies and fairies,

using handfuls of green-pea goo.

 

She’s smearing the stuff on her high chair

so her fingers are turning quite green.

There are dribbles of glop in her eyebrows and ears;

it’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.

 

I cry to my mother “please stop her!”

but mom is too busy to care.

So sissy starts wiping the slop on her bib

and her arms and her legs and her hair.

 

I think that my stomach’s revolting

I can’t wait until she’s all done.

But she’s cooing and laughing and

splashing and such . . .

So I might as well join in the fun.