The waves of someone else's miracle
have washed upon my shores
I curse my bitter luck
for not being closer to the epicenter
But I am reminded that
a little miracle
is better than no miracle at all
One day mine will come
It will pour over me until I
cannot breathe without tasting
it's sweet voice in my mouth
My miracle will fill me
until my mouth, my ears, my eyes
become fountains of miracles for the world
The waves will ripple
into eternity
making little miracles for every shore
it touches
along the way
I watched my gold watch
With my face toward its face
Its hands were a-clicking
My hands still in place
My face met this watch
With its hands in its face
Its face in my hands
Ticks an efficient pace
Its grace held in place
Behind the glass case
My hands kept from hands
That each other would race
Its face was so fine
Though it could not see mine
Who beheld in my arms
These arms telling time
Hands with no fingers
Yet hold night and day
And tickle my dreams
As the night ticks away
This watch, not a Swatch
Rather art of top notch
A wrist-hugging jewel
Is this portable clock
The slender arms stretching
From twelve then to six
Though mouthless it tells me
The time as it ticks
The life of Billy's Teddy is a glorious one indeed
He sits and sleeps on Billy's lap, as Billy goes to read
The room where Teddy lives and plays is cozy that's for sure
Just sitting there throughout the night, makes him feel secure
The bed is soft and warm as he lays there with his friend
The rest of night to cover all until the night will end
Teddy loves his little friend, and though this might sound silly,
Nothing feels just quite as nice as in the arms of Billy
From In The Sandbox - Poetry for the Child at Heart
Mommy got a brand new couch
It's nice but dull and kinda plain
I hate to be a grumpy grouch
So of her tastes I showed restraint
She smiled at me and kissed my head
Then left to go make me some lunch
I gazed upon its dreary threads
Wond'ring how to give it "punch"
Colored pencils wouldn't work
Their color would be sure to fade
I shrugged off markers with a smirk
They're just too crude for coloring suede
I closed my eyes to concentrate
To think how I could add some spark
How could I make this couch look great
This palette sitting cold and stark
At last the answer raised its hand
At once it was completely clear
To change this couch from bland to grand
I needed all my painting gear
My brush was frayed from overuse
My favorite colors all were spent
But surely I could still produce
A masterpiece of bold accents
Back and forth my brush careened
As life flowed in the couch's heart
And never in her wildest dreams
Could mom have thought she'd own such art
I stood back to survey the scene
Now the couch looked quite awake
Maybe there a touch of green
And gave my arms a needed break
Here it stands, the couch ornate
Awaiting my dear mother's cheer
But it will have to sit and wait
While mommy dries her joyous tears
I'm sure it's that she super glad
How could she not love what I'd done
I cannot wait to show my dad
And hear the praise I'd surely won
But I'm inspired to push ahead
For I am fully now aware
That as I look at mommy's bed
I see her sheets look kinda bare...
I stood in the mouth of the lion
And did not blink in fear
I stood in the mouth of the lion
My resolve was crystal clear
The sharp and jagged teeth
Surrounded me like walls
The sharp and jagged teeth
Could not scare at all
The vile breath of fright
Washed o'er my hair and face
The vile breath of fright
Could not me displace
Though lion roars eternal
He cannot close his jaws
Though lion roars eternal
The threat has been de-clawed
The fear of what might be
Is groundless you will find
For the fear of what might be
Is a figment of your mind
I must have a vorrible hirus
To have it you are dot nesirous
It mixes up all of wy mords
So my speech is the horst ever weard
The wetters of lords pwitch their slaces
You should see all the fooks on your laces
I hope that I get setter boon
I've been sick for the whole jonth of mune!
My toy car has doors that open
That means it can fly
It moves so fast along the ground
And also in the sky
Dad says cars weren't made to cruise
With birds and clouds up there
But these doors mean my car’s at home
On roads or in the air
My guardian alights on my finger
and makes its nest in my smile
This guardian will not stop a bullet
for it is a wisp of cloud
and bears itself not for such a task
But my guardian lightens my heart
Makes it float weightless
among my troubles
And this is the greatest protection:
to walk through the needles of misfortune
the sharp edges of loss
and feel nothing but the lightness
of my own heart
Who dares ride the subway train
With putrid smells and mystery stains
Only the bravest will step inside
And hold the bars as along they ride
I am the bravest, aboard I have come
But sometimes I wonder if "bravest" means "dumb"
From In The Sandbox - Poetry for the Child at Heart
RSS Feed