When I find a penny
I always wonder why
The world would be so spendy
On such a guy as I.
Many see a penny
As tiny, worn and worthless.
It’s not much or many
But something has been purchased.
I try not to worry
But I’m a little young yet
To be in such a hurry
To go so deeply into debt.
Life’s a sea
With endless swells,
Know where she
Keeps her wishing wells.
Turn coins to wishes if you can,
Wish away what you might owe,
Tell me if you’ve better plans
But this is all I know.
“When pigs fly!”
Is what they say
Before they ask you why
You think you may
Have the guts to ever even try.
Folks are so fast
To flat forget
All the heart that you’ve amassed
That wingless pig doesn’t get
A thought leaves me aghast.
A pigasus
Is piggie dreams
And is dismissed
Too quick it seems
For such a world as this.
Follow your lead
Far past your doubt,
There’s a piglet with one need –
Help him out,
Go succeed.
The heartless are partless
In part due to artless
Ripping and roaring and tearing and squaring
The world in a way that bearing
Your heart is swearing
Away your right to it.
But if you can’t lose yours then you’re not fit
To have a heart or ever get
Another one that’s lived and lit
A person from the inside.
Some know the risks and they decide
To live their fear and go and hide
Their hearts from something more.
What will you do with yours?
Little Bomby Brum
Lived his whole life in a drum.
As with many girls and boys
His was a world of noise.
You could hear him in the song,
He couldn’t help but tap along!
Sometimes he would cross thump
And make his poor drummer jump.
All he did made a new beat!
When he’d play or clean or eat,
Even when he snoozed and snored
Somehow became a stunning score!
Some things we can’t help but give.
Brum made music as he lived.
They saw me spin the woolen air,
They watched me split the stream.
They pickled in love of unfair,
They stewed in angry dreams.
They chased me with their clouded thoughts,
They roared and ran their rage.
They gladly tied themselves in knots,
They proudly raised their cage.
They wouldn’t free a word I prayed,
They couldn’t let that be.
The only thing I know of They –
I can’t let They be Me.
A sunk boat doesn’t leak.
Some may find that loophole weak
But the adventuresome must venture from
The well worn ways in manners smart and dumb.
The sea gives what it wants to give.
Life is perilously lived.
Carefully or carefreely tread
But all hangs on a thread.
Klake cut her line and drove her prow
Into dark that proudly vowed,
“This will get darker still.”
Klake simply smiled and duly filled
Her ship with all unknowns,
Knocking guiding stars from thrones,
Rocking crooked and the straight,
Locking Fate out of its Fate.
Ship and resolve still firm,
They broke free from feeding worms
As they cracked through and dropped
Into a valley, sailed up a mountaintop,
Then were splashing through the clouds,
Quickly crashing through the crowds
Of sunlight gathered round,
Astounded by this ship unbound
From sea and land and laws,
And flying freely on its flaws.
Before they sank into the sky
Klake had her cargo to let fly –
She let go of her unknowns,
They gladly soared off on their own,
And we’re left lucky to have more
Great unknowns to go explore.
Few ocean explorers leave the top sea.
Klake found that turvy-topsy.
The surface is crowded!
Now you may ask, “How did
Klake find her way down?
She wasn’t just kidding around?”
Your questions are the best!
We’ll answer all before we rest.
The best kept secrets are all known,
Not by brains but by the bones.
Most captains want a ship that floats.
Klake bought a leaking boat.
She sailed it till it sank,
Rode it down to the explorer’s bank.
Mid-sea holds great charm
As the strong and able arm
Pointing straight down to the floor
Where Klake sail-sank to her aimed for shore.
She landed then again set sail,
Diving past all fish and whales,
She split the strongest of all dams,
Now sliding by great worms and clams.
She’s taken the explorer’s turn.
That’s all we’ll know till she returns.
Dream bigger than a sleeper.
There’s deep and then there’s deeper.
The bottom’s where you let it be.
The top’s the same, try and see.
The third collection of LMM poems is now available in print and for your Kindle! It includes the last 100 poems posted to this site. Enjoy!
Get the book on Amazon.
It could be words.
It could be better.
I tell myself
We’re all together
Then hide away
With clever letters.
It could be words.
They do connect.
However many
I do collect
They aren’t quite life
Though quite correct.
It could be words.
They’re all my loves.
Words could do
But doing does.
It could be worse.
It could be better.
Either way
We’re all together.
