Cats and a Brother... true story, almost

.

When I was but a child
(Oh please don’t hate me)
I loved all the little kittens
and the kittens all loved me.

We lived way out in the country
where the alfalfa was always green
with a ditch for irrigating
Do you know what I mean?

My brother had always told me
a kitten could surely swim
but he told me many stories
so why should I believe him?

Besides they were little kitties
all fluffy and so cute
too little for any swimming
they still fit inside my boot.

He said, "Oh don’t be chicken
Yes they really can swim""
But I was a little skeptical
and besides, I didn’t trust him.

He taunted and he pestered me
and he needled me that so
I decided just to do it
I really did have to know

But I was just a softy.
I knew I couldn’t do that
So instead of choosing a kitten
I’d try the mother cat.

She was quite a bit bigger
and we’d be right there too.
So if she started to drown
we would know what to do.

So I gathered up all the kittes
and sat them down in a row
on the ditch bank beside the water
"Now come on, Let's start this show."

I saw my brother climbing
up the old walnut tree
Then he sat there just sneering
and looking down at me.

I went then and started searching
for the lazy old mother cat
I knew she’d be somewhere sleeping
she was getting much too fat

I picked her up, oh so gently
and I walked straight to the ditch
and saying "Oh kitty I love you."
I gave that Mom cat a pitch.

She lit right down in the water
She howled and screeched, I looked grim
but my brother was right, I admit it
She really, really could swim...

1/17/99vrd


,

An Error?

In a picture perfect world,
a sapphire sparkled stream
slips through grassy pastures
and quenches thirst it seems.
The very greenest meadows
snuggle at mountains feet,
They touch with vegetation
and tallest pines that meet
the bluest sky of summer
while reaching toward the sun,
and blazing golden sunsets
show an evening just begun.
Sky scrapers in the distance
tall shadows waiting there,
that give a false illusion
of peace that’s ours to share.
The fools that had the power
decided to call the hand,
pretending to be Jesus,
they felt like mighty men.
A bluff,,, explodes in "error?"
An instant flash of pain.
The picture perfect world
would never be again.
Destroyed with nuclear sadness
and seared in white hot flame,
Paint peeled from the picture
and curled up the frame.
Sky scrapers in the distance
blackened by the heat
stand, but now in mourning,
charred flesh lay at their feet.

Mountains singed to baldness
rivers parched and dry,
A meadow stripped of grasses
a glazing orange sky.
A white hot bunch of nothing,
Gone,.... as never been,
An immense and ranking graveyard
An "error" of the men.

©vrd3/2/98

.

The Melody

The beat to which
I vaguely dance
is strange and slightly mad

A different tune
was gone too soon
but yes oh yes I had

A waltz in time
a lovely rhyme
a beat that was sublime

This solo dance
with empty arms
is not the chosen path

and yet I twirl
inside myself
no reason, rhyme or wrath.

I hear the beat
of yesterdays
when time was young and kind

And still I waltz
in days long passed
The melody in my mind

© vrd 4/30/05


.

The American Dream

On the sidewalks of the city
and some back alleyways
There’s another population
with vagrant empty days
And just outside the city
underneath a busy bridge
there are other people dwelling
and some of them are kids.
Their shelters are of cardboard
under which they sleep
where rats are freely roaming
and hungry roaches creep.
Where Mothers lie awake and cry
for turns their lives have taken
and overwhelmed by circumstance
they feel alone, forsaken.
For some from depths they cannot rise
and though their looks are sullen
If you look inside their eyes
you’ll see a heart that’s broken.
Where to go, which way to turn?
They’ve lost all self esteem
Is this the life they’re meant to live
Is this the American Dream?

©Vrd 7/26/2001

.

March is on it's way....

Rainbows and Leprechauns

Far beyond the clouds and thunder,
after rains have washed it clean
there’s a rainbow showing pathways
through the glens and meadows green

Carpeted with lovely shamrocks
near the trickling of a stream
at the entrance to the forest
lively men all dressed in green

dance the jig with wives and chilren
looking neither here nor yon
keep your eye a’trained upon them
if you blink they will be gone.

Leprechauns of Irish glory
magic wonder for us to see
there is gold a’neath the rainbow
waiting there for you and me.

Have you ever reached that rainbow?
No, you haven’t , Nor have I.
But I will one day I promise,
‘less I forget and blink my eye.

©vrd3/15/2000

Cinquain

total of 22 sylables... 2....4......6.....8......2 respectively..


Life is
a series of
storms, with once in awhile
lulls, to be used for much needed
resting.






.

The Stamp

This tragic stamp
meant to educate
but like volcanos
some mouths spew hate

Holier than thou
who is to say
the reasons, the whys
anyway

There is no choice
when one is born
so why point a finger
with hatred
with scorn?

Placing blame?
Then let me ask you
If it were your daughter
what would you do?

Would you turn your back
on your only son
condemn him to hell?
Laugh while he is shunned?

Talk can be easy
self righteousness too
but there’s only one judge
and it’s not me and not you.

©Vrd3-31-2001

I Only know it was for the most part... good

Years run together
like wet colored tissue
blurring into each other
blending a life
making each step
seem as one
Increments of days
no longer clear
just bits and pieces
of events remain
as memories
No defining beginning
no definite ending
but both assured
sometime
We summarize
time
by particular happenings
"That was the year Sue graduated"
"It must have been Springtime
because
I remember the daisies."
Memories
of many New Years
remain blurred in my mind
a password to time
past
I know not the dates
I only know it was
for the most part
good.
©vrd10/17/2004(Jenny)

Sometimes I Seem Silly

Somebody sat in my soup
somebody sat in my stew
A sick sad story
a stupid song
and very soon I shall sue.

Sorry said Sally to Susan
Sorry said Sammy to Sue
We slipped somehow
and slid on the sow
into your soup and stew...

More dieting thoughts....

I’ll Take the Cake

I think that you
shall never see
a lass more lovelier
than me
with big brown eyes
long lashes too
and dimples hiding
wouldn’t you
like to know
just where they’re at
would you believe
they’re where I sit
and skin so fine
luxurious hair
cascading down
to nearly there
I’m thin ( I wish)
and shapely too
with whitest teeth
held in with glue
I wear perfume
called number five
And men drop dead
or come alive
when they see me
walk in the room
a light goes on
no dim no gloom
my secret is
and you should
try it
enjoy your life
I never diet
or pass good food
for slimness sake
you have the salad
I’ll take the cake

vrd©5/11/2002

They're Playing my Song...

Diet time... sung to "Crying Time"

Oh it’s diet time again
I’m getting fatter
I can see it in the form
of midriff bulge.
I can tell by the way
my pants are tighter
that it won’t be long
before it’s diet time.
Oh they say that dieting
makes the heart grow stronger
and I guess it’s happened
many times before
But why with me
does everything take longer
I’m so fat I can’t get
through the kitchen door.
Oh it’s diet time again
I’m getting fatter
I can by the scales going high
and I know by the jeering and the laughter
that it won’t be long before
it’s diet time.

The Pelican and the Little Bird

I’m a big bird
much bigger than you
and this is my rock
so what are you doing
invading my space
you’re not like me
you’re another race
probably lower and lesser than I
so I’m just wondering why
you think I might
share my place
the world of my making, my very own space
with a pauper who’s homeless
broke and without
employment or even a family or spouse
what kind of a bird are you anyway
you’re not even friendly
so what’s that you say?
You want to live here
and learn my way?
To share in the good life
The American Way?
OK... I’m a good guy
as Americans are
We’ll take you and love you
and let you go far
but one thing you mustn’t
ever do
is betray your new rock
my brother if you do
The wrath of the free world
will rain upon you
we’ve no room for traitors
or those who would be
rulers of our homeland
the land of the free...

© vrd2/28/2002

Sandpiper

Miles and miles stretched beyond
as we walked hand in hand
never thinking that forever
could ever have an end.
We planned for life
and how we loved
and loved and loved again
just you and I
and with the rise
of tides and passions grand
we walked along
and watched the shores
and pipers in the sand
The thief of life
and loneliness has laid on me its hand
changing patterns, changing time
to a life unplanned
I walk and watch, listening too,
as sights and sounds demand
calling me to sea
to see
the pipers in the sand..

©vrd2/27/2000

I Wrote this after seeing the movie... Joan of Arc

Remembering Joan

Beating drums
surrounding me
circling, encircling
Torturing me.
I’m not the one
they think I am
but dying here
inside the flame
while yellow orange
consumes my flesh
my soul is free
outside my self
with wanton lust
and scorching flame
they burn my shell
but not my name.
Some will rise
and shout my name
not hypnotized
by dancing flame..
As the embers
cool, subside
Satan laughs
while others cry.
And though I am
a mound of dust
My ashes scream
In God I trust....

© vrd5/28/2000

A different sort of poem...

Between The Hours of Dusk and Dawn

Those hours between dusk and dawn
are when the world is rewound
The shelves are stocked, the papers come
and by the morning garbage is gone.
So many stories and dreams abound,
and for some true love is found,
between the hours of dusk and dawn.
But there exists in the world of one
a lifetime that has gone beyond
possible to be rewound
where nightmares instead of dreams rebound.
The hope for peace is only found
in needles used by his own hand
and arm that has a rubber band
to bring the vein up to the fore
and give him peace just once more.
But when the promise of dreams are blown
with falsehoods by a druglord sown
the nightmare wins a mind unsound.
He thinks escape and looks around
He jumps and falls far, far down
and crashes on the waiting ground.
Then instantly his world’s rewound
as angels lift with trumpets sound
and take him to a higher ground
where he is dressed in whitest gown
and olive branches braided round
his head to make forgiveness’ crown.
He walks on gardens path that’s sown
with thornless roses which have grown.
The greenest grass so freshly mown
placed on a chair becomes a throne.
To the wind his wounds are thrown
The nightmares of the past have gone.
And music is the foremost song
where peace at last, for him was found
between the hours of dusk and dawn.

©vrd.9/7/98

Todays pick...

Conversation Over Coffee

Imagine a life
crashing
against a wall.
Dreams fall
smashing
scattering
into bits
of nothing.

Coffee?

The magic elixir
the fixer
of all

Your chair
is
empty.

The conversation is over.

©Vrd6/6/99 (Jenny)

Ok...check this one..

That damn bowl of fruit

It sits there day in
and day out
seemingly with clout
what’s it all about
that damn bowl of fruit
Why do we fill it again
and again
seems such a sin
to watch it rot
it’s not like
anyone eats it
Well some think the
bananas
are good
the rest is pig food
or at the most
it’s compost
for the garden
Is it a symbol of status
or what
does it stand for
that damn bowl of fruit
it lays there
attracting nothing
but
fruit flies
while answers to my whys
go silent
that damn bowl of fruit.
I’m tired and changing
I’m now rearranging
my life and my house
at the same time
Stuff has to go
you know
and the first to the trash bin
with no guilt and no sin
no bells or fanfare
one toss and it’s there
the ultimate
damn bowl of fruit.

©vrd 5/10/2004

Try this....

Nuthin’ but a Stupid Tree

A power saw rips through the tree
I hear it cry, I feel its plea.
Glazed eyes gleam with awestruck glee
while years come tumbling to its knees.
Inside my mind and heart I seethe
why is there no one here to grieve?
With nonchalance they walk away
and as they do I hear them say;
"Nuthin but a stupid tree
never did no good for me
It would have fallen anyway
when it died_someday."

©Vrd10/20/99

But For The Grace

There But For The Grace

Instead of me, another waits
with joy no longer on her face.
The dreams she had for naught, or gone
with time have been replaced
by apathy
and loneliness
And there but for the grace
go I along another path
Oh God my upward gaze
gives thanks to thee, though it is late
I could be sitting in her place
looking toward infinity
She’s run a losing race
while I in tranquil sunlight bask
my solo world replace
with springtime hopes, renewals born
I love this time, this place
but questions rise, how does he choose
Why do some win and others lose?

© vrd11/13/2001

One More Nursery Rhyme...sorry.

Jack Horner?

Little Jack Horner
sat in a corner
eating his Christmas pie,
He just wasn’t happy
in fact he felt crappy
But wait, I’ll tell you why.
His darling wife Mary
had become quite contrary
when her flowers wilted and died.
He said, "Let me please you."
She answered, "Oh geez you
look stupid with your thumb in a pie."
"But wait, I’m still handsome
I’m virile and then some"
He said with a gleam in his eye.
She keeled over laughing,
for air she was grasping
He thought she surely would die.
She said to Jack Horner
who sulked in the corner,
"It’s my fault, I should have been wiser.
Your B.S. spread thick,
would have done the trick
for my flowers as fertilizer.

©Vrd7/27/99

Let's try a different type... ok?

Drift Wood

Another tomorrow
much like today.
Another world
Blown away
with a word!
Bombing my mind.
Invading my peace.
Murdering me
and leaving me
DEAD
like driftwood
There!
dry....................and dead in the sand.

I am

Motionless!

Emotionless!!

Vrd.. copyrighted long ago.

If you Liked Jack Sprat.....

Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater

Peter peter pumpkin eater
had a wife and thought he’d beat her
tried to keep her in a shell
she didn’t like it very well.

Peter peter pumpkin eater
had a wife and couldn’t keep her
he would have kept her very well
except she came out of her shell.

©Vrd7/26/99

-------------------------------
Or how about...

Little Boy Blue

Little Boy Blue
go blow your nose
I think you’re allergic
to that wild girl Rose.

Where is that boy
who has a drippy nose?
He’s out behind the hay stack
with that wild girl named Rose

What are they doing
out behind the hay?
Frolicking in summer
that’s all I’m going to say.

©Vrd7/26/99

A Childhood Fantasy?

Of course I had them
doesn’t everybody ?
I mean, I knew who I was going to be.
I would be a movie star.
There was no doubt.
I always practiced my Esther Williams act
there
on the front lawn.
I remember swimming around
in the Kentucky blue grass
lifting my marvelous leg out of the water
listening to the thunderous roar of the audience.
While down deep in the blades of grass
I watched wonderful crawly things
like lady bugs
trying to find their way home
before all their children burned.
And sometimes when I was really lucky,
I saw ants
carry a dead bug to a hole in the ground.
I knew
they were storing food
for winter.
When I tired
of watching ants build cities and stuff,
I would curtsy to my adoring fans
and go visit a friend
who had a garage,
where we held our shows
for captive audiences.
We had our wardrobes
of sequined gowns, diamond pendants
and mink stoles
stored in brown
cardboard luggage.
We were wonderful.
Dancing and singing
while grateful crowds begged for more.
We always did several encores,
knowing
they were starved for fine entertainment
and a taste of the good life.
It was excruciating work.
But we felt
that we really should share
our beauty with the world.
And after hours
of grueling performances
we bowed
exhausted, but content,
knowing that we had brought great joy
to the masses.

©vrd.6/98

Macho Hound


Would you like to go to town
wearing a long and sequined gown?
Would you dance and twirl around
with an ugly drunken clown?
Would you take your dog to the pound
if you caught him running round
and acting like a macho hound
with all the bitches in the town?