This childhood mischief poem was written as a lighthearted reflection on imagination, rivalry, and the dramatic way children respond to small injustices.

He took my book

The little crook

How dare he

Trip me

Mock me

His behavior shocks me

He took my book

That little crook

He’ll be sorry when I find him

Because I’ll have to remind him

By giving him a kick in the shin

He took my book

That little crook

And I know just where to find him

©  Jennifer David 2013

This poem is just one small piece of a much larger body of work.

Over on Closer Lives, Leon and I share poetry written across seasons of life — love, grief, humour, childhood, travel, transformation, and the in-between moments that don’t always have language.

Poetry is how we found each other, how we process the world, and how many of our deeper…

 

We are having an amazing time at the cottage and in Magog.
Shadow tag at the beach in the early summer sunset.
See you all in a week!
Take Good Care!

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I have this habit,
it is placing printed pages
on the floor.
I will sort through numerous
poems and stories
and put them in piles,
good in one pile
and bad in the next.

My dog came in to say hi.
I pet her behind the ear
and she walked out of the room.
I went back to review my work.
A poem that I couldn’t bring myself
to like,
went into the good pile anyway.

The next four went into the bad pile.
At that time I went to the bathroom.
When I came back,
I noticed a big yellow puddle
on the poem I placed in the good pile.

I didn’t know my dog could read.

Needless to say,
the poem went immediately into
the bad pile.

©Copyright 2013 by Kurt Rees.
All rights reserved

So, today I decided to start a Blog, not unlike it seems, the entire free world. 

After searching the internet far and wide, researching for tips from the pro’s on how to set up a Blog, how to successfully write a Blog, how often to write in your Blog, I discovered one major theme across them all.  Have a specific direction or idea.  Have a topic or a purpose. 

They say don’t write about your love of birds, write about a specific bird but you see, I don’t have a bird, most definitely not a specific bird.  I know a little but not a lot about all of the animal kingdom and I also find all of it equally fascinating and worth expressing thoughts and opinions about. 

So let’s get to specifics, boiling it down to a theme, this was a problem.  Yes, I say was because I found the…

http://www.trophyengraving.co.nz/shop/index.php?route=product/category&path=5

The Butterfly Box

 

There once was a little girl,

With rosy cheeks and hair all a curl.

She loved to dance and she loved to play

In her very own innocent way

Until one day

She didn’t want to dance

And she didn’t want to play

She had all these feelings

that would not go away

This is poetry.