Monday, May 25, 1998

"Days Of The School On High"

At first you are called a fish,
But you have only a year to wait,
‘Til you can call others the same,
Especially after they take the bait.
These are the ways of things at the School on High.

You are not yet the big dog,
But you are also no longer the fish,
Fewer can push you this way and that,
Three more years, but only one, don’t you wish.
These are the ways of things at the School on High.

You’re finally old enough to leave the grounds,
For that favorite time of day, known as lunch.
Two more years of fun and life – yeah right!
You finally learn that studying is far better than to crunch.
These are the ways of things at the School on High.

This is it! This is the year it all happens!
At last, you’re finally at the very topmost peak!
You are god, lord, and master to all those little fish!
You look at them, and many more colleges you do seek!
These are the ways of things at the School on High.

You think you’re done, but never, at least not yet.
Another four years or so, have you, but in this, the meantime,
You are at the age where you can dance and party real late.
You can save your money, but certainly more than a dime.
These are the ways at the School on High – er!

Sunday, April 12, 1998

"A Child's Midday Nap"

Spring is a child's midday nap
With her head upon her mother's lap
Dreams of flowers and soft rain
Dancing around in the child's little brain

As the child does sleep
The sky does weep
And brings back beauty and life
To a world once full of pain and strife

When the child awakens from her nap
And removes her head from the mother's lap
The season is ended, but the morrow will bring
Another nap and another Spring

Wednesday, January 28, 1998


The sun, the breeze,
The flowers, the trees;
I love such things,
And the bird sings.
Outside, among the world;
Stones into the water I have hurled.
Picnics, games, and poetry
Not quite the Grand Ol’ Op’ry.
Bugs, and flies
(Of the butter varieties),
The sound of music over the hills.
Here are present no worries, no fears, and no pills.
The air so cool, the air so still;
And something’s not just right, oh hell!
I open my eyes
And to my surprise,
A parking lot, with, you know,
Cars, trucks, vans, and, oh!
Horses, too! They stamp and they paw.
I ask aloud: "against the law?"
I think of her, and she of me.
An excellent pair are we.
She sits above;
It is she that I love.
Oh no! I’m almost out of lead,
Oh dre...

Wednesday, January 14, 1998

"How Much Must I Cry"

How much must I cry...
Before my eyes run dry?
I do not know,
For they’re not yet. Oh, woe!

How much must I cry...
As I listen in class try?
I do not know.
Oh me, she is my woe.

You break my heart,
You tear us apart,
Limb from limb,
And hand and foot.

I am torn between
A girl, a princess, and a queen.
What do I now do?
Why does the owl chirp, “Who?”

How much must I cry...
Many times I have cried;
They’re not yet dry,
but our relationship, it has...died.

"Ode To Midnight"

So crisp, so cold is the night air,
So much joy, hope, and wonder.
Whether cloud covered or cloudless night,
The stars shine true, shine bright.
Midnight is the time when all things occur.
Midnight is the time when few things stir.
‘Tis not morn, nor eve,
Yet both do we conceive.
Not much sound, ‘tis not quiet;
Everything sleeps: I don’t buy it.
I am not sleeping, I cannot dream
But write this of the conscience stream.
Oh glorious night, I feel thee ‘round me!
Oh glorious night, I need thee to comfort me!
All evils must be banish-ed;
‘Tis not their time, not now, not yet.
Am I poet or am I author?
Not I know it. Oh what a bother!
The white snow falls,
The howling wind calls.
The stones are cold, the crickets sleep.
Oh I wish the clouds would weep.
Over the fence, I hear chimes,
And dogs, and wondrous times.
Then I remember, if only ‘t were true,
‘Tis midnight, with moon so blue.
I am not worried, frightened, or even scared.
I have gone where no man hath dared.
Off in the distance, lies the fair city,
Oh so busy on such a night, ‘tis a pity.
The cold grips me, yet I do not surrender.
I have warmth from the Light of the World or –
Nevermind! The cold doth win
And back I go, away, back in.
Perhaps, when I again meet the night,
The stars everywhere will shine as bright!