It looks like I am working very hard. Do not be deceived. String Bean put too much wood on my fire. 

It looks like I am working very hard. Do not be deceived. String Bean put too much wood on my fire. 

This is me Sweet Pea. Sometimes I get very serious and reflective...or silly and whimsical. Then I put my pen in my left paw and poems come out of it. Here they are. Do not cringe too much please.



* Some of it is pretty and some of it is bad



Poetry? I know nothing of it
But life seems a poem to me.
Each day a word
A week is a line
Every month is a stanza
A poem a lifetime.


Wave Ride

I ride the waves my mind creates
    up to the crest of sunny days

Then down again into the trough
    where creatures lurk and dark awaits.

I'd just as soon get off this ride
    and plant my feet on firmer ground

But I know that roiling sea
    would call my name and beckon me.


Clockwork Unaccustomed

A silken downy breeze
from dappled southern skies
tickles stubborn oak leaves
left on sleeping trees.

It nudges crocus bulblets
with clockwork unaccustomed
and pushes up reluctant shoots
with daylight cool and shortened.

Bees hum a sleepy subtle tune,
the winged ones chip and sing;
our daystar gently warms us
when winter thinks it's spring.


Pea Pod

I planted a pea
'cause I wanted to see
how high the vine would be. 

It twisted and twined
it curled and it vined
til it was TOO high for me. 

Then my vine grew a pod
as big as a BOAT
filled with pumpkin-sized peas ...

That made the vine shiver
and tremble and nod
in the blustery summertime breeze.


But then the pod POPPED
so I hopped to the top
to harvest my giant pea crop,

But a giant BEE bumble
Caused me to fumble
then stumble, and tumble and drop!

DOWN came the vine
and DOWN came the peas
and last of all DOWN came me.

I stopped when I PLOPPED
right on TOP
of the pod 
and we floated away to the sea.



Songs of crickets and cicadas
Fill a thousand summer nights
With fireflies ephemeral
A string of tinkling lights

A scattering of tawny leaves
The maples seeds twirl round
Ancient oaks release their young
As nuts drop to the ground.

The freeze and thaw of winter's core
Bring birds and beetles forth
To flit about and scuttle
Til snows blast from the north.

Dripping droplets slide off twig ends
After April rain;
And the chorus of spring peepers
Herald winter's bane.

Days and years rush onward
The earth reveals its art
Spinning timeless patterns
In time with God's own heart.



Silence Is

Silence is
   a ton of stone
       for those who hate to be alone.

They dread the gap
    and so they drone
        and gabbychat 
             upon the phone.

Quiet is
   a deep cool ocean
       far from buzzing loud commotion.

Buoyed up
    by gentle motion
        are those that drink
           its calming potion.


Frigid Digits

Trees are shed
of summer's greening,
Bearing bones
with fingers reaching;

Toward the sun
they twist and grasp
The chill slate sky
where stems held fast.

Beneath the frozen
crust of turf
Roots are sleeping 
in the earth;

Waiting patiently
for when
A warming sun
awakens them.


Pat the Bunny

December wanes
the days are dim
Loved ones have gone
and thoughts turn grim

I turn and face
the Ice-wind season...
It chills the soul
and freezes reason;

Old memories
of sun-filled skies
With hue-brushed clouds
once graced my eyes;

Yet dormant seeds 
of light abound
A friend once lost
has now been found!



Upon the eve of this New Year
The sun appears 
And chases drear
Beneath the clouds of yesteryear

The pages turn
The hands spin round
All is renewed
Fresh hopes abound!

Christmas 4.jpg


December first....anticipation
How did it come so fast?
By the fifth there's expectation
For memories that last.

On the tenth is preparation
For our friends' repast
The fifteenth's spent in deft creation
Of gifts we weave and cast.

December twenty's destination
The Christmas party!
                     such a blast!
The twenty-fourth ... illumination
Candles lit at midnight mass. 

Then Christmas Day there's JUBILATION!
Celebration! Festivation!
But adoration...

For the one who stands aghast
At dissipation deep and vast
And boxes, bows and bones amassed.



The birds at my feeder 
seem to know
when the hawk's
about to show.
They flutter up 
into the trees
and don't come down
til the chickadee chips


They come in pairs
or one by one
(Some have a date,
some are alone)

To feast upon 
the banquet free
I've spread for them
beneath the tree.

They know that I
am their provider
They treat me like
a real insider,

And let me stand 
amidst the commotion
of scores of wings
in fluttering motion.

bird seed.jpg

War and Peace

I've tried a dozen clever tricks
To keep the squirrels away
From all the birdseed in my feeders
And keep the marauders at bay.

They always seem to figure out
A "squirrel-proof" baffle or cage;
I've had enough! This has to stop!
Its WAR on squirrels I'll wage.

I've hung the feeders from slender wire,
I've greased the metal pole,
I've purchased a clever contraption
That dumps the critters whole.

But nothing works! I moan with despair;
I'm scratching my poor aching head
As they leap from a branch, bypass the device
And gnaw my investment to shreds.

For a month I've been losing these battles
I feel my resolve start to sag;
Then a light goes on in my head at last
And I wave a white squirrel-truce flag.

I head to the store with my Christmas money
And purchase a fifty pound bag
Of premium Black Oil Sunflower Seed
And the best sack of corn to be had.

I lay a couple of plywood planks
To scatter with yummy squirrel treat
And hang from the tree on long nails and hooks
Dried corncobs for them to eat.

And now there is peace, all the creatures content
As they eat at their separate stations;
But I most of all, am happy to say,
Am free of all squirrel frustrations! 



One is red 
The other blue
I am lucky
To have two.

They don't know
How I look deep
And mine the secret
Gems they keep.

Patience, truth
Joyful living,
Love - filled giving.

They aren't alike
They're far apart
Yet both reside
Within my heart


Poetry Too

Do I write the poem
Or does the poem write me?
Perhaps we unfold in harmony.
But more likely rolled up 
And tossed in the sea
To Pitch in the waves
Dodging raindrops and hail.
Then we drift through the doldrums 
Til we conjure a sail
And coast in the sun
Awaiting the gale
That's surely to come
Without warning or fail!