I know a secret place in my room
In the house at the end of the street;
A place of hope or epic doom
Where lions and centaurs meet.
I know a secret door near my bed.
It's one of many I own.
Doors of all colors and shapes in my head,
One green as emerald, one shaped like stone.
There's a magical world inside my room
In the house at the end of the street.
Like tapestries woven on a fairy loom
Are tales spun of love and defeat.
One door leads me to hot, desert nights,
One door to wolves in the snow.
One door opens to whimsical flights
With magical beans that grow.
Oh, the marvelous worlds and creatures I've seen
From my room in the house at the end of the street!
From Solomon's mines to a Narnian queen
To naiads near meadows of wheat.
I've met pirates and men of low reputations
And Dickensian children whose spirits were weary.
I've been lost on the moors and exiled from nations.
I've known red-haired orphans decidedly cheery.
I've teased and joked and sweated fears
With each and every friend.
At times, we laughed our way through tears
Or thought our hearts would never mend.
I know a secret door in my room
In the house at the end of the street;
A door to hope dispelling all gloom
and adventures I can't wait to meet.
(Author's note: By the way, I alluded to at least 15 different stories in this rhyme. Can you guess which tales I meant? Which stories do you think of?)
Floating in the pool,
gazing up at the sky,
I saw a rider and two camels
slowly saunter by.
A dragon chased a knight
who battled valiantly.
And then a huge mosquito
danced with a bumble bee.
A hippo sailed a pirate's ship
with a mermaid at the bow.
Next I saw a flying pig,
while a palm tree kissed a cow.
A giant reptile reared its head
and dazzled me with its smile.
But I could tell by the tears it shed
that it was a crocodile.
Fluffy, pink cotton candy
won a race with the March Hare.
A cottage made of gingerbread
relaxed upon a puffy chair.
A crowd of merry faces,
all dressed in masquerade.
Floating, lovely, lazy clouds
meander on parade.
I wrote a poem in the sand.
I carved it with my empty hand.
I wrote a verse upon the shore.
Swish! came a wave- it was no more.
______________________________
(I really did first "pen" this verse on the seashore while lounging gulfside with my neighbors Gil Landry and Paul Diaz one evening in 2008.)Did I ever tell you of the rose
which insisted on being called "Lily"?
The sweetest flower that grows
is also incredibly silly.
Hidden in a hollow, shrouded by the trees,
I lay upon a mossy hill and felt the autumn breeze.
He danced upon my face and touched my strawberry hair
and then he laughed and leaped - making pirouettes in the air.
He tickled an old, hoary oak as he giggled and swayed and spun.
An aspen caught the beat and tapped a rhythm upon her trunk.
A stately elm bowed to the fir who graciously nodded her head.
And they danced a reel as the maple shook her robes of brilliant red.
A gaggle of silly pine trees shivered at the edge of the dell
and dropped their dainty 'kerchiefs while under the breeze's spell.
The breeze danced higher and higher still as he soared above the trees.
The trees waved and wept as they sighed and said their goodbyes to the autumn breeze.
If moonlight were silver
and sunlight were gold,
I'd be richer than Croesus
by the time I am old.
If raindrops were diamonds
that fell from the sky,
I'd dance in spring showers,
but I'd still be dry.
The sheep are in the meadow
high above the town.
The shepherdess sings to them
as they come leaping down.
The cows are in the barnyard
eating corn and hay.
The farmer wants to move them
to the hills on old May Day.
_______________________
(In medieval Europe, May Day was not only a day of feasting, gathering of May flowers and dancing around the May Pole, but also the time on the calendar when shepherds and farmers moved their flocks and herds to higher, greener pastures. Farm workers and estate hands could apply for new jobs on May Day, as it was also considered a sort of Job Fair day.)
Stars in the night sky watch over me.
Sing me a song of the deep mystery.
Stars in the black sky sing me a tune.
Tell me the tale of the man in the moon.
Stars in the night sky twinkle and shine,
filling my heart with your silvery wine.
Stars in the black sky teach me to pray
and lead me back home when I've wandered astray.
_____________________________________
(I was pondering the stars and their role in the lives of men. We have used them to navigate for eons ,while many still hang their hopes and dreams on a horoscope, based on an interpretation of the movement of stars and planets. Abraham - who most likely had been a priest in ancient Ur- had a conversation with God under the stars and held fast to the hope that God's promise to him would come true some day. Some say that the Hebrew phrase for "counting the stars" in this same story could also be interpreted to "recount the story of the stars" or to interpret the gospel message hidden in the constellations or Zodiac.)
Yesterday I lost my tooth!
And my big brother said
That no one takes a used-up tooth
And gives you a dollar instead
(and he swears this is the honest truth,
So help him God, it's not a lie
Or he'll go blind in his right eye
or even worse, he'll have to die).
He says the tooth fairy is a hoax.
There's no such thing as magical folks.
And I got mad and started to cry
And Dad sighed and shouted, "oh swell!"
Then Mom came in and asked him why
he always had to yell.
(But first she let me have some pie
'fore dinner if I didn't tell.)
And just to prove my brother wrong last night,
I tucked my tooth 'neath my pillow tight.
And this morning, at breakfast, Dad's face was red
As I showed him the twenty-dollar bill from my bed.
And brother just sat there shaking his head.
But Momma smiled and sweetly said
That brother should never, ever swear!
And as for his eyes, he'd better take care.
And always wear clean underwear.
I asked my mom today where Christmas cheer comes from.
She winked and laughed in her teasing voice
And joked, "in a cup of rum".
I watched her sprinkle sugar on cookies for Aunt Marie
And smiled secretly to myself when it occurred to me,
That Momma's not just baking cookies and pies and cakes.
There has to be some magic in those goodies that she makes.
There's eggnog for Uncle Ronny
'cause he really likes it a lot!
And punkin' pie for Johnny
Watch out! It's piping hot!
Aunt Betty gets a real fruit cake.
Tea cakes for Grandma Sue.
Dutch apple pie for Cousin Blake
It's topped with ice cream too.
Momma says there's always room
For friends and family,
'Cause nothing chases away the gloom
Like a fresh, hot cup of tea
Or maybe hot cocoa with frothy, whipped cream
And a dash of cinnamon or two.
The grownups get a shot of steam
in a cappuccino, too.
The kids are running and giggling and playin'
The grownups are telling the same tired, old jokes
And everyone knows what no one is sayin',
"It's good to be home with you folks."
And Momma's face is pretty
as she beams on everyone
and fills another cup of tea.
Her magic has begun.
Daedalus and Icarus,
father and son,
longed to be free
from their island prison.
Daedalus said, "Icarus,
here's what we will do.
We'll fashion wings from feathers
and wax and branches, too."
So Daedalus and Icarus
persisted night and day
to fabricate wings of hope
to carry them far away.
Now Daedalus warned Icarus,
"Don't fly too near the sun,
or all our months of labor
will find us soon undone."
Then Daedalus and Icarus,
befeathered father and son,
began the slow ascent
on their day of freedom.
Daedalus and Icarus
soared on waxen wings
and flew above the boundaries
of lowly, earthly things.
Daedalus and Icarus
winged flight from prison sought.
But Icarus, as he went up,
his father's words forgot.
Daedalus cried, "Icarus,
the sun's rays are too hot!"
But Icarus was far away
and heard his father not.
Then Daedalus saw Icarus
fly too close to the sun
and saw his heart's joy fall to earth,
his mortal wings undone.
Daedalus mourned Icarus,
his own beloved son,
"Your freedom was cut short today
before it had begun."
"Come outside for a shower!" Dad said.
So out I ran, shower cap on my head.
With my rubber ducky and in the bare,
at first I didn't notice the neighbor's stare.
With a bar of soap, I had zipped out the door.
That's when I heard my neighbors roar.
"Just what kind of shower do you think this is?"
demanded the crowd led by my sister Liz.
And boy, I can tell you, my face was red!
"Come outside for a shower," he'd said!
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