Showing posts with label Father Goose Rhymes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Father Goose Rhymes. Show all posts

WILBER'S PEN —

A spider spins by warm moonlight
Words up in silk, hung overnight

As affair draws near the blade hangs here 
Some fears fade fast, some grow quite clear

She writes the lines to spare his hyde
So a fat pig lives, whereas others died

One test is won, one deed is done 
But every path costs another one

Now papa goes out again with his axe
In search of new meat to fill in the lack

A small lesson learned: love leaves a mark
But a wall of thread can't hold back the dark

Image by Garth Williams



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Pikthall is a writer.


10 POUND KEY —

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let me be
I have to draw lines
Cross t's and dot i's
Find rhymes and
Divide by degree

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let me go
He traps me right here
Straps me up in the chair
As I look up from
Way down below

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
or my dad just won’t let me be
He says to measure the pace
Of the perimeter space 
And he laughs while
I’m climbing a tree

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let me go
He keeps saying wait
Make sure that it’s straight
Be quiet and stay
Off of my toes

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let be
I must wait for fun
Till what must be done
Is done and
This is the key



_
Pikthall is a writer.










WONDER WANDER —

I walk along
a blooming path
that funnels
inverts
flares

A walrus waltzes
on the fence
I laugh and
leave her there

She waves goodbye
I turn around and
smile as I go

Wandering down
the blooming path
wondering
what is 
to know


_
Pikthall is a writer






























SILENT VISIBLE —

Light and color
shade and dark
a reflection and
a photograph

A statue
footprints and
the moon
a sharp
knife
and a cat

A good shirt
some nice pants
and even better boots

A good path
some spilled blood
and a couple
other fruits


_

Pikthall is a writer.

Note: This poem was composed with the help of my four year old daughter.



PLAYTIME —

Mama cow

baby cow

chicks to hens

baby cow

mama cow

spirals spin

around and

around again

beginning 

to end

mama cow

baby cow

now

then



_

Pikthall is a writer.











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Suspended children
flee a building burning permanent
persuaded and dissuaded
out of the dank
into the fray
weeping and
waving
in vain.
_
Pikthall is a writer.

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