Posts Tagged ‘Poems’

Little Brown Boy

Here is another scrap of a poem that I think I started writing for Christmas to Kevin and Nada.

“Kevin and Nada!”
yelled the little brown boy.
He ran up behind them,
his hand held a toy.

“It’s Christmas Nada!”
yelled the little brown boy,
“It’s Christmas Kevin!”
said the boy with the toy.

“You’re going to be late!”
said the little brown boy.
“Everyone’s waiting!”
screeched the boy with such joy.

“We can take my horse Nada”
said Kev with a start.
“Just hang on to his horn,
he’s actually a unicorn.”

So into the sky,
on the back of a horse

And again, I got distracted by something and thats where it ends. Merry Christmas!

These face paintings are worth checking out.

Pineapple head


Rocket Ships and Dragons Part 2

Out of curiosity I wanted to see if my blog has been indexed yet by Google, and it has. If you search ‘rocket ships and dragons’ in Google, my post by the same name (rocket ships and dragons) ranks 3rd. Obviously there isn’t a heck of a lot of content on the internet related to rocket ships AND dragons. I’m guessing there isn’t a lot of demand either. But what I did find interesting was the first result that Google returned. Its a poem called Rocket Ships and Dragons and appears in a forum dedicated to Attention Deficit Disorder. How appropriate! What’s more, the poster’s avatar is Hobbes, from Calvin and Hobbes. Eerie. I’ll share the poem here;

The boy sits in his small school desk tapping,
a rolling of all fingers,
a drumming-marching-rolling motion,
in beat to an imaginary army.
He squirms in his chair.
The teacher’s voice drones on as the boy
daydreams to the moon and back,
visions of little Jackie Paper and his pal Puff,
on billowed wings. . . and other fancy stuff
dance in his head . . . .

“Jamie! . . . . .Jamie, Are you listening?”
“What . . . . Yes Mrs. Jones.”
“Oh . . . . the answer is eight. . . . four plus two is
“Yes. . . . . I will pay attention next time”

A ratta-tat-tat-tapping again,
a wiggling-jiggling-shaking, his leg’s
in motion as the teachers voice
fades into the sound of the rocket blasting
off. . . . blasting off to a day-dreamy
journey to the moon. . . .

By James

Oh, and I’ll bet this post will solidify a top rank for me for ‘rocket ships and dragons’. I can’t wait for my first organic search traffic!

Lance a Lot; A Story of Murder?

Digging through another notebook I found this story I started writing a while ago in rhyming limerick.  I think its fun.  I wonder how annoying an entire story would be to read.  It might be more tolerable with pictures, like in a picture book.  Photographs might be cool.  Anyhow, here it is.   Bold text will be Doug, black is Doug’s thoughts and the narrator, Blue will be Lance, and Red will be Liz.

I’m minding my own biz
walking down the street.
A tune in my head,
skips at the pace of my feet.

Then this happens all the time;
A passing glance,
‘Oh shit, I know that guy.’
That’s right, its Lance.

I hate Lance.
I pretend not to.
I smile and chit chat,
But Lance I hate you!

“Oh hey Lance,
how’s it going?”
“Good, how about you?”
“Good, good, how’s it going?”

Damn I hate that,
Its not awkward enough?
You already asked that.
Social situations are tough.

“Good thanks.
So how did you do on that paper?”
“Not too great.
But I’ll bet you aced it.”

Oh you’re so smart!
We all envy you!
You just want me to ask,
‘And how did you do?’!

“Yeah, I did alright,
I probably shouldn’t say,
I’m arguing the mark,
Could go either way.”

Who is this guy?
Who is he kidding?
It’s part of his character,
Totally fitting.

“Actually I got an ‘A’,
but I’m not really happy.
It should an A plus,
or so says my Uncle Chappy.”


“He’s a lawyer you know.
Practically runs the school.
He sits on the board.
Yeah, he’s pretty cool.”

Now I should nod?
Does it look like I care?
How long’ll this take?
“Yeah, that’s really not fair.”

“Well I should be going.
I’m meeting someone.”
“Well I’ve got time to kill,
maybe I’ll come just for fun.”

“Yeah, that might not work out,
my friend is not well.
He might have got cancer.
It’s too early to tell.”

“My dog died of cancer.
How tragic is that?
I’d much more preferred it,
if it had got my Mom’s cat.”

“That’s tragic indeed.
Must have made you quite blue.”
But the real tragedy,
Is that it didn’t get you.

Oh just my luck.
Look who it is.
“Hey check it out,
here comes big-tits-Liz.”

“Hey Liz, what’s up babe?”
“Hey Lance, hey Doug.”
This is quite awkward.
“Common boys, give a girl a hug!”

Liz is a girl.
She was Doug’s first.
She took his virginity,
she’d end up his worst.

Oh Liz, oh Doug.
What fond times they’ve had.
When good relationships fail,
the emotional destruction’s so sad.

Annoying as hell,
a laugh that would grate.
Lazy and slow,
a questionable mate.

She’s well over-weight.
But then so’s her chest.
With boobs made so big,
he over-looked the rest.

“So Liz where you off to?
We were just on our way.
To meet a cancerous friend.
You know, brighten his day.”

Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?
“No, not to be rude,
I’d rather do this alone.”

Thats as far as I got.