Archive for the ‘Poem’ Category

Faraway the Broom

January 12, 2018

STRAW, or FARAWAY the BROOM

Each of the children
was asked to gather
for a broom
a strand of straw.

Then the broom maker
clumped them together,
and tied them to a handle.
Voila a broom.

Pedlers with wagons
of clanging wares
bought the broom
to sell in town.

There a stepmother,
after tough bargaining,
got her a broom
that she carried home,

and forced into the hands
of a cinder girl,
a servant child
who cleaned out the ashes.

She loved her broom
and named it Faraway
because it came
from somewhere better.

One night she swept
the ashes they left
as they traipsed
to the castle ball.

The dust swirled
and turned to magic
that settled to the ground
with someone behind it!

A kind woman who
greeted the girl,
heard her story
and got an idea.

She dressed her up
and set her off
to the castle
in a coach and four.

Yes you know
that this dear girl
who lost that shoe,
married that Prince!

She took from her home
the one thing she loved,
her broom she clutched
in her now clean hands.

She swept out her room,
then the castle clean,
then the kingdom of
most wrong-doers.

And then spic and span,
as most things were,
she gathered to court
the broom maker who

brought all the children
that gathered the straw
for the celebrated broom
known as Faraway!

Picture of Cendrillon from contemporary prints.

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Five Short Kid’s Poems

October 14, 2017

Pipes shake and groan when
Mom turns on the faucet.
The child hears it and says
Squeaky water!

Splish, splash!
Splish, splash!
find some cover
or we’ll all get wet!

“That low star
rests on the mountain,”
said the child
tired from walking.

the Unicorn and Pegasus
fought to determine
which was the best
mythological horse!

if every child
was good as gold
we’d long for silver.

September Here …

October 7, 2017

September here is beautiful.
Heat is gone and winter’s at bay.
The leaves turn and twirl through the air.
Frost in the morning. There’s work to do.
Smoke from the chimneys. Children at play.

Poems of Love

August 19, 2017

You’re mad at me
but your eyes falter
there’s still enough love
to get us through

words stuck
in her throat
she hesitated …
he is lost.

I would look out the tower window
and smile at the handsome young men
who crossing by would wave to me.
(Inspired by Tsang Chih , 6th c.)

Her touch
like a painter’s brush
swept across my arm.

why is your head
bowed?
There are no stars
on the ground.

now each step
we take together
makes our bound
that much stronger

Hope is a Wall ….

July 8, 2017

hope is a wall
with a window


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