To an Unknown Tree

Was digging back through some some old works tonight and found this one. I composed many brief offhanded poems under this tree on the campus of my jr. college. Though I was a frequent visitor beneath it, I never did discover what kind of tree it was. I always forgot to look it up once I got home. So here you go, enjoy.

 

Here I sit

once again

beneath this unknown tree.

I would try

to identify

but its boughs are stripped of leaves.

My knowledge does not serve

to know it by its look.

And i’m awfully short on hand

of my knowing field guide book.

Yet that doesn’t steal the pleasure

I gather at its base.

And it doesn’t stop the sun

shining warm on my face.

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Appalling Literature or a Children’s Book?

So in my many jobs that I have held I find myself again working with children. Which with my sights set on being a children’s author this is pretty well okie dokie by me. What I’m not fine with is having an adorable little tyke trot up to me and deposit a book in my lap. The issue isn’t in that they want me to read the book, I absolutely love verbal storytelling. My problem comes in that of all the books they had to pick this one…

Oh sure it was all cute and nice to begin with. The illustrations are well done and the story line is relatable and engaging. I began to read this book aloud when I came to THIS…

The bully character in this book is named Micky Badazz… yup that’s right Badazz….Now this book is marketed as an appropriate book to read to your lovely innocent four year old. Alright, ok, since when is it acceptable to include thinly veiled adult language in a book that is geared for children barley older than toddlers? In my opinion it’s never ok to do this. As a matter of fact I find it down right appalling, contemptible and find the author to be in bad taste. For shame on you Damon Burnard! I was so irked by his blatant disregard for his audience that I immediately started flipping through the book to find out what other hazardous material I would have to watch out for. The name appeared two or three more times but that was it. Poor little tyke looked up at me while I was skimming the rest of the story and proceeded to inform me that “I can’t hear it when you’re not reading the story.” Sorry bub… just keeping your best interests at heart.

It is because of ridiculous junk like this that my mission to be a children’s author is impressed even more upon me. If there is one thing I cannot stand its people who find it amusing to callous the innocent to mature things. Sure you might think that I’m over reacting. Its only one word right? Well what happens after that one word? I’ll tell you what happens… the next thing you know it will be larger more life altering issues, not just creating filthy vocabularies… no it will be sex, drugs, money, power, greed… once the misuse these things is made acceptable it leads to the break down of social structure and to moral decay. Look what’s already being presented to your teenagers on TV…. Look what’s starting to creep its way into your 4 year old’s books…..

The Unfortunate Bridegroom

Just for fun everyone. If you’re looking for perfection and formality in this one, look elsewhere. If you’re looking for a smile, read on. 😀  Enjoy!

 

Pray tell my good sir

Would you lend me your ear?

For I have a dreary tale

That I need someone to hear

 

Forgive me my good sire

For I hate to intrude

But ya see I have this problem

And I don’t know what to do

 

I was on my way to church

Where I was to be wed

Until a tragedy occurred

That’s left me here instead

 

I had bought a proper ring

To bestow upon my bride

But it would seem that my pocket

Was not intact inside

 

This I did not discover

Till I was half way here

And I’m afraid fate has brought about

The greatest of my fears

 

Now no ring have I got

To present to my wife

And should she find out

She’s liable to take my life

 

I’ve searched frantically

But its no where to be found

I’ve doubled backed my tracks

And searched a quarter mile ground

 

So here I stand quaking

While the alter waits inside

I cant enter within

But neither can I hide

 

Yet I cannot find the ring

And cannot buy another one

Spending all my funds upon the first

Now money have I none

 

The gentleman paused in his walk

And thought it over thrice

Then turning to the groom

He offered his advice

 

Run home young man

And fetch forth a bell

Then you must shake it

And you must shake it well

 

The ringing brought forth

You must capture in a jar

So the next time it is opened

It will sound near and far

 

Then a ring you should have

To present to your wife

By which she will be satisfied

And you shall have your life

 

Then the man stepped away

Without another word

Leaving the poor lad slack jawed

Sitting on the curb

Musing on Muses

Have you ever had one of those moments where you feel perfect genius comes to you but you are not in the right position to make good use of it? Happens to me all the time. It seems I’m never in the right place at the right time to best capitalize on my creative juices. Just today I was sitting at school when BAM! the motivation and inspiration to continue on one of my novels just hit me. I immediately grabbed for pen and paper and began to write. The unfortunate part of all of this was that I had left all my previous notes at home. I felt like I couldn’t make my present genius ideas mesh with my previous genius ideas unless I had them all at the same place at the same time where they could learn to play along nicely. It left me feeling almost vulnerable in a sense, wondering “will these new ideas flow well with my already established work? Will I have to rewrite to accommodate what I’m writing now?” Over all it was extremely inconvenient to work this way. Last semester I tried to relieve this problem by simply carrying all my current work with me… that didn’t work well at all. See I do all of my writing pen to paper. I find it creative-soul crushing to work on the computer. The benefit to this is if my computer were ever to crash (like it did this summer) I would have hard copies of all of my work. (Note: this doesn’t prevent against a house fire and my writing space could be considered a fire hazard with the amount of paper I use.) The other down side to doing everything in paper is that paper is heavy… really heavy. I’m still having to take visits to the chiropractor to get things straightened out from the back pack I lugged everything around in. (I tried one of those rolling briefcases too… didn’t really work that well either.. I still had to lift the dang thing in and out of the car.) So there I was, stuck without my notes and with genius tickling my brain. In retrospect this situation reminded me of a poem that I once wrote and so I dug through my cyber files so I could share it with all of you lovely people.

 

Tidings of the Muse

 

Hurry

Act now while the muse is within your grasp

She dances at your fingertips

Don’t let her escape

Softly she beckons you to regions unknown

Inviting you to your full potential

Now she slips away

Fading into twilight

Now swiftly back again

But only for a shot time

Use what she has given you to your advantage

Be nice to the sprightly elf

Cling with a firm grip that which tries to elude you

But do you squeeze for fear of harming the wisp

No need to anger her else she shall not return

Now you have made use of her and it is time

To release that which you cannot control

Do not expect to see her return soon

But always be ready for her coming

Be ever watchful

As you glimpse her far away on the horizon

Do not mourn her absence

But wait patiently

Make your abode pleasing to her

And she SHALL come again

 

Well there you have it loves. I’m sure many of you can relate with what I’ve expressed tonight. Blessings on your writings and creative ventures. Keep after your goals and you’ll find  them rewarded.

Until next time, Ciao