Fishy Wishing Fountain
by Susan Dyrud MacDonald
|Where Do Missing Things Go?
|"A Message of Love" by April Robins
A bright and shiny coin, I threw,
In a wishing fountain, just for you.
It's being cared for by a fish,
Until you come and get your wish.
I saw a tiny tree sparrow
Perched outside his house.
To spy on him, I snuck up close,
As quiet as a mouse.
My birdie friend began to sing
A bright and happy song.
It was a really catchy tune;
I had to sing along.
Singing with that lovely bird;
That bird, singing with me.
I always will remember
that two-part harmony.
Dolphin grins and laughs,
Puma paces to and fro
Electric eels, shock!
Cats have cattitude;
Is the way of dogs.
Horses horse around
Does so dear are female deer
Frogs play games of Leap!
Woodchucks don’t chuck wood;
A frog could be Prince Charming –
Foxes are so sly!
Ant struggles uphill;
Lugging a load so heavy;
For the common good.
Chickens in the yard,
Cows grazing in the meadow;
Poor jay in a cage!
Eels swim so sleekly;
Elephants never forget
Elks are majestic.
Beavers build their dams;
Changing the course of rivers –
And of history, too!
Fly’s in the ointment:
Butterflies prefer margarine;
Kites fly in the sky .
Alone on a floe,
Happiness is a penguin
Unsteady of gait.
Jays sometime jay-walk;
Not all sheep are sheepish;
Some fish are fishy.
Goats smell caprylic;
Geese are extremely silly
Gophers go for broke.
Lions are the mane thing;
Monk seals lead a sheltered life;
Bees are… the bee’s knees!
Puma stands alert;
Dormouse sleeps his life away;
March hare doesn’t care!
Oyster in the sea,
When asked what the world is like
Says, “Just like me!”
Peacock struts his stuff;
Mandrills paint their faces;
Zebra wears jim-jams!
The anteaters’ nose,
And the elephants’ trunk –
Pigs’ snouts, but longer!
The hyenas laugh;
Crocodiles pretend they’re crying;
Jaguars are not cars.
Vexed beyond patience,
The viper and the cobra
Have a hissy fit!
|cartoonist Mary Susan MacDonald
a child of the Appalacian.....
I DREAM THAT SOMEDAY THERE WILL BE
ENOUGH FOOD FOR MOMMY AND ME.
THAT WHEN IT’S COLD WE WOULD HAVE HEAT
GLOVES FOR HANDS, AND SOCKS FOR FEET.
THAT MOMMY WON’T HAVE TO WORK NO MORE
THAT SHE’LL HAVE ENOUGH MONEY AT THE STORE.
THAT SHE CAN SOMEDAY BUY A DRESS
TO LOOK AS NICE AS ALL THE REST.
I WANT TO HAVE MY OWN LUNCH MONEY
I WANT OTHER KIDS NOT TO THINK I LOOK FUNNY.
I DREAM THAT MY TEETH ARE STRAIGHT AND WHITE
I DREAM THIS WOULD HAPPEN, IT COULD, IT MIGHT.
I DREAM OF BUYING STORE BOUGHT SHAMPOO
SO OTHER KIDS DON’T LAUGH AND SAY EWE.
I DREAM ON MY BIRTHDAY I’LL HAVE A BIG CAKE
I DREAM, I DREAM, OH, I’M AWAKE……
by Connie Hall
by Cynthia Drew
In the It-za-mine Woods, on a warm winter day,
Possessions went poof. Disappeared. Went away.
Things vanished in droves in the groves of the woods,
A place known as a home to some mighty good goods,
And some mighty good beasts. But to make matters bumpy,
When the animals gathered, whether happy or grumpy,
To greet each new dawn in the great It-za-mine,
They came all dressed up, decked out, looking quite fine.
But where had their things gone? Those things that poofed poof?
Where was “lost?” By a stump? In a field? On a roof?
In his drawer, Archer Turtle saw gray socks and red,
But only two green ones, when he got out of bed.
He searched for two others, and for his brown shoes,
Finding four white shoes, three black shoes and two pairs of blues,
But still no green socks (though he found a new penny),
And he needed four green socks or refused to wear any.
Sophie the skunk had packed tissues galore
Into her pockets – forty packets, and more.
Said Sophie, a sneezer, “I keep them at hand,
So I’m not spraying skunk junk all over the land.
Achoo! But what’s this? There’s a hole in my pocket!
All my tissues are gone! And my good silver locket!”
A squirrel named Kasey let loose a great shout:
“My key has gone missing, and I’ve locked myself out
Of my house yet again, as I do every morning.
That key baffles me – it goes poof without warning.”
Sophie saw shoes and socks snagged in a tree,
And under a rock Archer spied Kasey’s key,
And Kasey found tissues and tissues some more
Along with a locket in front of the store
Where all of them went to buy things in masses.
“These are Sophie’s,” she said. “That skunk needs new glasses.”
Porter the fox tended all his things nicely,
Keeping track of his socks and his keys most precisely.
Some objects he valued much more than the rest,
And others, he thought, existed to test
Him, annoy him – a pain in the neck.
Too many belongings could make him a wreck.
The critters collected at dawn and inquired
Of Porter the fox, a fox they admired,
“What is it you do to keep tabs on your keys?
Tell us the answer – share “how” with us, please.”
“Watch your hands handle things,” Porter said. “Keep stuff neat,
Always in the same spot – by your seat, by your feet.
For there is no sock heaven, no shoe hole, no flue
Up which, or down which, things fly without you.
In the last place you look,” the fox grinned, “there you’ll find it.
Not much of a mystery, if you know what’s behind it.”
“But what of a brother who moves things at will?”
Wondered Wenda, a ferret fresh from Brazil.
“Or a mother who tidies?” added Kasey. “And then,
You might want to consider Doug Rat’s missing pen.”
“Right there in plain sight,” Porter sighed. “Doug’s confused.
It’s there in his hand – it’s the pen he just used!”
Archer asked, “Porter, why do clothes washers eat
All the stray socks I need to complete
The outfits I wear when I greet the new dawn?
How do I dress up what it is I’ve got on?”
“Socks provide vitamins clothes washers need,
The green ones especially, they’re healthy indeed.
Still,” Porter said, “no one needs to be stylish.
To show off your stuff? Well, dawn is worthwhile-ish.
But day dawns on everyone, snooty or ditsy,
Some tall, others small, plain critters and ritzy.
The animals cheered him, and Sophie gave out
All her tissues to wave as the fox walked about
Among them, advising on that or the other.
Then Porter looked down and began to discover…
He’d misplaced his sunglasses sometime that day.
The creatures drew ‘round him and hollered, “Hooray!
“Porter’s like us! He’s one of the crowd!
He loses things too!” they shouted out loud.
Then they scattered – Doug, Kasey, Archer, Wenda and Sophie
And searched ‘til they found a hat, a glove and a trophy
And Porter’s sunglasses! “Well,” Porter expressed,
“I’d like to say ‘thank you!’ You beasts are the best!
“You’ve shown me today what we sometimes forget:
Owning things can be fun, but things don’t offset
The loyalty friends show – a gift beyond cost.
Friends like you can’t be bought, and will never be lost.”
by Glen Bear Smith
|Shhh can you keep a secret?
Do you promise not to tell?
I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else. OK?
I am in love with you.
It happened when I was not even looking.
You grew up and I stayed a child.
I wanted to come with you, but your wings let you sail away.
I looked everyday for you to come back, but you didn’t.
I went to the places where we used to play and I would sing songs of joy,
and there was no one there but me with my empty heart.
Daddy said that you were going to live with Jesus.
Is that very far from here?
Are there rivers and streams, lakes and ponds?
Can you chase butterflies and jack rabbits?
Do you get to sleep in the sun on a lazy afternoon like we used to?
Who feeds you? Do you like the food?
You are still my best friend, and always will be.
My friends say that you are just a dog.
I know they are wrong because I still feel you right here
in my little tender heart.
Do you go for walks with Grand Pa and Grand Ma?
I’ll bet they would like that too.
Well I have to go now, Aunt Paula is bringing me a puppy,
but he’ll not be you.
Now you be good and don’t play in the traffic up there too.
I don’t know where you will go if you get hit by a truck again.
Bye for now.
PS, I really love and miss you Champ.
Marvin was a different kind of feller. Don't go getten crazy over the spelling. It is correct by Cowboy standards
It was supposed to be easy, but out west in the early days of 1900,
there came a wrangler named Marvin, and nobody could tame him.
Now Marvin was a different kind of feller.
He was short and stout, but you could never say he was yeller.
He stood five foot four inches in his all together.
His head was too small, and his feet was too big.
He ate like a cannibal and burped like a pig.
His head sat on his shoulders minus the neck for all intent and purposes,
He was nothing but head and shoulders wearing a hat that was just to dang big.
Strapped to his sides were matching Colt 45's, and there was a Bowie knife hidden up his leg, and his hair looked
like a bee hive.
His mustache was something out of the OK Corral.
He only had his horse and never a gal.
Everyone made fun of him because he was a cowpoke first and foremost.
He always was willing to ride night herd never leaving his post
until the night that he was confronted by Custer's ghost.
Now he was a brave little feller, braver than most, but galldang
when he met Custer he got scared and left his post.
Now he came riding in as hard as he could straight through the camp,
fell off his horse, and scattered all the cook's wood.
"Give me a drink!" He hollered in fright.
What I got ta tell ya is mighty scary and not very good.
Out yonder there bigger than life rides the ghost of old yellow hair.
Now if that ain't enough his companion beside him was none other than Chief Running Bear.
I spit tobaccie right in his eye. Dang if it didn't miss and drift off in the air.
Now Custer's eyes was shooting red devil flames.
He said they came fer me because the cooking in Hell was rotten and bad.
Lucifer, himself, said that I was the best cook this outfit has ever had.
They came to fetch me tonight he said with a grin. I always wanted to cook in hell's kitchen.
Just then the night lit up bright as day. There came two angels; here's what they had to say.
"Marvin, your cooking was meant for all mankind. Fetch up some vittles. We'll sit a spell and all unwind."
Hells fury was unleashed in a giant clap of thunder. It came far from the ground; some say from clear down under.
Now Satan, his self, stood in our midst. He made no bones about me being his.
A light from up above shown down in harmony and love, and with that Satan went flying, as if given a Heavenly
Marvin the Maverick still cooks today. You can find him on the prairie cooking the same old way.
Like a moth drawn to the flame, I fell
totally and completely in love with you.
I think it may have been
from the moment I first met you.
I'm not sure.
All I could think of was those eyes,
that incredible smile, and your engulfing
I was held captive by your intense honesty,
and that award winning smile.
I never stood a chance, did I?
Or did I?
Like lovers after centuries of separation,
we descended upon each other
like the moth to a flame.
Oh, and how brightly our flame burned.
Now after years of separation, we hear
the lovers song being played again
on the harp of love; and, just like
the moth, we dance and flutter
at the sight of the flame.
Hopefully, this time the flame won't go out.
Stretch out your hand; I can almost touch you.
Promise you will never let me go again, my love.
|Can Grizzlies Fly?
From my hideout in the tree
I spy a bear. Does he see me?
His shifty eyes search for a fight;
my thumping heart is pumping fright.
I could sting him with a stone,
unless of course he's not alone.
Is he with friends? Can grizzlies fly?
I start to laugh...too late to cry.
if it's time to hibernate,
becoming food won't be my fate.
He'll beat it back into his cave
and keep me from an early grave.
Clinging to this branch I’m praying
that Mr. Bear will not be staying.
Advice for Writers
Janet Ann Collins
( To the tune of Get Along Home, Cindy)
“I’d like to write some novels
Or stories, books, or rhymes.
I want to write some articles
And sell them every time.”
“Sit down and write,
Then you mend ‘em.
Sit down and write,” I say.
“Sit down and write,
Mend ‘em, send ’em.
That’s how you’ll sell someday.”
|THE FAIRIES DANCE© Judie Peavey
Shh, quiet. Watch the fairies dancing in the night.
See how bright does shine their light?
The tinkling of tiny musical bells seems to come from nowhere.
The sound of a tiny flute is in the air.
Oh look! It’s a frog in the center of their ring
And every creature has joined in to sing
Silently, watch as they dance in a circle
We must be watching some sort of miracle
Do you think they would hear us if we ventured near?
Do you think our footsteps they would hear?
Could we creep closer to the dance?
Perhaps we should just take the chance.
Sadly, We’ll never have this chance again
To be here when they first begin.
We’ll never hear the tinkling of their fairy bells
Or the sound of the flute as it swells
To give a melody of dance
To all the fairies to enhance.
Gaily ,they dance as if they have no care.
They make a circle in the air.
O’ would that I could join their dance.
I’d almost like to take the chance
To enter into fairy land
Instead of hiding where I stand.
This and other poem by me can be seen at
The sun is shining
The kids are out playing
The garden is being worked out
So the flowers can bloom
And the veggies can grow
The farmers are working and planting
Birds are coming back from the south
and having families
Animals are waking up from their long winter nap
and starting to have their families
The Bee's are buzzing around and looking for food
The days are getting longer and nights are getting shorter
----Molly M Taray, 1/29/2010
Heavenly Angels are our
They brighten our days
in all graceful ways,
Their tender love comes,
as a gift from above.
We are always surrounded
By their warm and caring love.
Like upside-down rainbows,
their smiles bring the sun.
They change our sad moments,
With laughter and fun.
Angels are friends
with white fluffy wings.
They Bless our lives
with all precious things.
God sent me an angle
like no other,
I call this angel….. my dear loving mother.
(Note: to be included in Angels At My
Side by Freda Roberts)
To My Unknown Little Friend
Little friend, who are you
With your comical smile?
Who captured you here
As you sat for a while?
Your grin lights my day
As you beam down on me.
Please be cuddled and loved
As you ought to be.
Please have a good home
Free from worry or fear.
May the trust in your face
Shine on those you hold dear.
by Peggy Greene
No fooling, it's spring
And so come what may
Outside it's gorgeous,
A beautiful Day
White swirls on the ridge
Are clouds in the sky
Come frolic with me
Just you and just I
You say you feel down,
Please look above.
What do you see?
What's not to love?
by Margaret L. Greene
Last night we watched the moon rise
Through the cypress trees
We could have been in Italy
Or anywhere we please
The sky behind was silv'ry blue
The moon was round and bright
We watched it change to steely hue
As we sat through the night
We could have been in Africa
We could have been in Spain
We could have been anywhere
But then, what would we gain?
by Margaret L. Greene
He's green I wheezed!
But Mama, he's pleased.
You painted him green,
What could you mean?
If you had a son,
Would you want that done?
Blue eyes gazed at me
I think I'd love him green.
by Margaret L. Greene
|Can you catch a moonbeam
and put it on your head.
Can you hide an elephant
underneath your bed?
Can you find a dinosaur
in the bushes at the park?
And sneak it home to your house
before the sky gets dark?
Can you pretend to be a pirate
and sail the deep blue sea?
Or imagine you’re a pilot
and fly a plane with me?
When you just imagine
whatever you want to play,
we can do or be anything
and have fun here all day.
by Karen Elizabeth Rigley
I saw a rainbow,
high up in the sky.
There were so many colors,
just like you and I.
I have to sleep by myself at night,
My Mom and Dad make me turn off the light.
I can't see anything in the dark
But I thought I saw a Great White Shark!
They make you laugh, they make you cry
they sometimes even make you sigh.
They can be about rivers or hills,
or about the way the poet feels.
They can be about birds that fly,
or about the ones that never reach the sky.
No matter what the subject might be,
poems are fun as you can see!
I have a tadpole named, Teddy
His head is big, his tail is small.
Soon he will turn into a frog
And I won't recognize Teddy at all!
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|Carolyn Watson Dubisch writes: To read more of "The Horribles" readers can go here,