That’s The Best Blossom

It’s an immense field,
Full of flowers,
But you can pick just one,
Never let the wrong one,
Say “I won”.

Don’t settle for,
Second best,
Walk to and fro,
Weaving through the blooms,
Until you’ve found,
The only one,
Who will pass the test.

Is there one flower in the field,
That won’t ever wilt and rot,
And is there a surefire way,
To tell if it’s,
The one you’ve got?

Go stand in the middle,
Then spin slowly around,
See them all,
Before you carefully choose,
So you don’t lose.

Front and center,
Or waving from the wings,
Lying face down,
Or sitting on the ground,
Sporting a smile,
Or wearing a frown,
Only one of them,
Isn’t a clown.

Select one who won’t wilt,
The second it’s picked,
One who will survive,
When taken from its home base,
And placed in a vase.

Not the one who dies,
The second snow flies,
Or the one whose petals fall,
From a little bug’s brawl.

Envision Something Sensational (It’s Not About Coffee)

Caffeine dream,
You’re being hunted,
Caffeine dream,
You’re being pursued.

Caffeine so warming and awakening,
Perfect following a dream,
Where time was spent,
Away vacationing.

Caffeine dream,
You’re needed now,
Caffeine dream,
The only word for you is wow.

Caffeine is addicting,
And the dream you are,
Is a happy place,
An amazing grace.

Caffeine dream,
You’re in high demand,
Caffeine dream,
With you I stand.

Caffeine courses through veins,
Like a shooting star,
And in a dream you can swing,
From that star by a string.

Caffeine dream,
You’re an essential,
Caffeine dream,
You’re needed for survival.

Caffeine gives off energy,
And when it’s been spent,
That gives way to a dream,
Soothing and serene.

Caffeine dream,
You’re everything,
Caffeine dream,
Without you there’s nothing.

Caffeine lack,
Can cause a wicked withdrawal,
From which a dream can pick you up,
And fully revive you.

Caffeine dream,
You’re found now,
Caffeine dream,
You’ll be retained somehow.

Chunk, The Chocolate King

**********

He’s not hollow,
He cannot melt,
He can hop like a jackrabbit,
Though he’s got no flesh or bone or pelt.

**********

Oh what a hand he was dealt,
The very first chocolate rabbit,
That one-hundred-thirty-five he is now,
Is not even felt.

Created on a whim,
In an old store-room,
He was a sight to behold,
And caused a new tradition to unfold.

When his campaign was done,
The evening of Easter, 1890,
As soon as the store was locked,
Away he hopped.

That chunk of chocolate,
Ran off like a rocket,
Before he could be melted or dumped,
And it so happens he ran through,
A patch of magic dust,
Blowing by on a gust.

And never was he ever,
Heard from again,
That is,
Not by men.

But when little bunnies say their prayers,
He is the angel,
God sends that way,
And gladly he watches over,
The little dears.

He is ever so big,
And lives in his own,
Hidden grove of figs,
Far from humans,
And their modern rigs.

There’s a hollow in a hill,
Under tree number four,
Covered with a green trap-door.

Carpeted steps lead down,
To a hardwood floor,
In a giant room,
Fitted just for him.

When he first ran away,
From that window front,
In P.A.,
This is where,
He chose to settle,
Hoping no one would find him,
And see fit to meddle.

What’s he been up to,
The last how many years?
Well he calms the fears,
That reach his ears,
From the above dears.

Then makes millions,
Of mini-mes,
In his factory,
Across the street,
Under tree number three,
Which he distributes to stores,
Shopped in by people,
Like you and me.

His brand is exceptionally fine,
And bought to be indulged in,
With fine whiskey or wine,
Oh! Look at the time!
Go and get you one,
Before it’s time to dine!

His life-size bunny plushies,
So many try,
To make their products as perfect,
But theirs all lack,
When compared to the ones made,
By this aristocrat.

**********

Only once,
Did someone think,
He was to eat,
When he was lounging under,
Tree number one,
To get some fresh air,
While avoiding the sun.

But they broke a tooth,
And on him,
Not a mark was left,
So they were forced to flee,
Without a chance,
Of committing the theft.

**********

No Wonder He’s Fat

What kind of cookies,
Did you leave Santa this year?
And was there milk,
So they could be,
Washed down properly?

**********

Were you the one,
Who cut out all those angels?
And iced the sugar dough,
With the pearly white?
Then sprinkled on,
The iridescent sprinkles?
Just wondering,
Because he sure devoured those.

Were you the one,
Who mixed up a world-class batter?
And added in,
Every flavor of Christmas chip,
Ever known to man?
Then rolled them in powdered sugar,
To look as though,
They were covered in snow?
Just wondering,
Because he sure raved on those.

Were you the one,
Who made men of gingerbread?
Then baked them to,
A golden brown,
And took time to dress each one,
With piped icing and candies?
Just wondering,
Because he sure fancied those.

Were you the one,
Who made them so light and fluffy?
Then colored them minty green,
And even made them taste,
Like peppermint sweets,
Before mixing in,
Some chocolate treats?
Then dusted them all,
In powdered sugar,
Giving them,
That happy holidays look?
Just wondering,
Because he sure took to those.

Were you the one,
Who twisted red and white ropes?
Then carefully shaped each one,
Into a candy cane?
Before shaking on the red sugar,
That made them extra festive?
And to finish them off,
Made red and white frosting for dipping?
Just wondering,
Because he sure went crazy over those.

Were you the one,
Who made such beautiful butter cookies?
Perfectly round,
Looking like cheery tree ornaments?
With the extra-large indentations,
Baked in every center?
That housed all different flavors,
Of jam mounds?
Just wondering,
Because he sure ate major amounts of those.

**********

He lives for this night,
And any you make,
Will help energize his flight,
All will be eaten,
Without a fight,
But some give him more,
Of a delight.

Dubious

On the one hand I get it,
On the other it’s a mystery,
Either way,
It’ll go down in history.

On the one hand I hate them,
On the other there’s much compassion,
Either way,
I’m not laughin’.

On the one hand I’m over it,
On the other not even close,
Either way,
Keep me bound in your ropes.

On the one hand it’s needed,
On the other it never needs be seen again,
Either way,
It affects the brain.

On the one hand I can’t wait,
On the other I’m scared shitless,
Either way,
I’m far from listless.

On the one hand I think you’re crazy,
On the other you’re my solid rock,
Either way,
I won’t balk.

On the one hand it’s a happy place,
On the other sadness saturates,
Either way,
There’s no telling what awaits.

On the one hand it seems so easy,
On the other nothing’s ever been harder,
Either way,
That’s an order.

On the one hand it seems predestined,
On the other it’s not even a possibility,
Either way,
I bet it’d have durability.

On the one hand life’s amazing,
On the other I wish I were never here,
Either way,
I’m glad that appeared. 

On the one hand that sounds tasty,
On the other I just looked in the mirror,
Either way,
The picture couldn’t be clearer.

On the one hand it’s been long awaited,
On the other it every time gets pushed away,
Either way,
It looks here to stay.

On the one hand it’s there in plain sight,
On the other I’ve looked high and low,
Either way,
It’s not yet a hell no.

On the one hand that happened yesterday,
On the other it could repeat today,
Either way,
Take time to pray.

Bored Bobcat

The night is cool,
The feeling heavy and blue,
And Honda is wired,
Rather than tired.

Honda is a bobcat,
Whose best friend is a muskrat,
Tonight when venturing,
Down to the water,
He saw the most fascinating fire.

Excited was he,
Until he saw,
The space around it not free,
But instead full of people-
Oh, how shitty!

Where, oh where,
Was Muskrat McCaw?
He could sure use his help,
For these humans must beat it,
Though none broke the law.

‘Cuz he can picture it now,
Right before his eyes,
His deer and rabbit friends,
Getting roasted and toasted,
And his own pond of friendly fishes,
Getting plucked one by one,
Then made into fancy dishes.

Off he trotted,
Staying concealed took care,
But it was a must,
For it would be bad to be spotted,
He knew McCaw was ’round about somewhere,
And he’d hurry to help,
Run these fiends off.

Luckily,
McCaw was at home,
So Honda didn’t have,
Very far to roam.

The muskrat lived along,
The river bank,
In a little domed hut,
With an underwater door,
That was never shut.

Tonight,
When his friend arrived,
Puffing hard for breath,
With sweat on his chest,
He was sitting outside,
Gnawing on some leaves,
That had been dropped by the breeze.

“My friend!
A mile down!
We have an appalling group!
Come!
Let’s make ’em drown!”

McCaw gave up his munching,
In favor of laughing,
And in between peals,
He said with zeal,
“There again goes you,
Always exaggerating and hating”!

It took some minutes,
For the muskrat to calm down,
Enough for the bobcat to speak,
And then they devised a plan,
Which would make those peoples scat.

**********

Now of course those peoples,
Were just having a celebration,
And happened to choose,
That for a location,
So they could swim and eat s’mores,
Knowing that their fire,
Was safely away from the shores.

**********

And so,
Off they went,
The muskrat and the bobcat,
Off to make,
The peoples scat.

There was a woods that ran,
Along where shore met land,
And when they got close,
They sheltered there.

The two watched,
With wondering eyes,
As the people put,
Things on sticks,
Then set them,
Atop the fire,
Until by the flames,
They were licked.

They let them blaze,
Until they had a black glaze,
Then blew them out,
And stuck them in their mouths.

Honda crept,
A little closer,
Sniffing the air,
Trying to tell,
What they were cooking over there,
But it smelled like no meat,
He would usually eat.

McCaw,
Who ate no meat,
Sniffed the air,
For there was something,
Delighting his senses,
But he could not place it,
As something he had ever tasted.

**********

Hotdogs and marshmallows,
Were on fire over there,
Being scarfed down by the dozens,
And Honda and McCaw,
Though not knowing what they were,
Decided they must get some,
And didn’t think to worry,
Of repercussions.

**********

The fire was crackling,
And the peoples were laughing,
Dipping cups into coolers,
Then pouring from big bottles,
And drinking down the contents,
When two unexpected visitors showed up.

Those hidden two had inched,
Until they silently joined the party,
And now sat there staring,
Drooling as they licked their chops,
Hoping not to be stopped.

But stopped they were,
Stopped right in their tracks,
By a man in scarlet swimming shorts,
Positioning at them a pistol,
No longer now,
Was the atmosphere blissful.

But neither wild animal,
Had ever seen a gun,
And didn’t know,
The man wanted them to run.

So there they sat,
Still amidst the group of peoples,
Assuming it was anytime now,
They’d get to share the vittles.

Some in the group,
Were scared into silence,
While others grabbed sticks,
And tried to join in the violence,
Until all at once,
Someone who’d had too much,
Awwwwwed at their cuteness,
And then at them rushed.

Stunned was Honda,
As he was grabbed in a hug,
By a raving drunken lady,
As was the gun-wielding guy,
And the stick-picker-uppers,
So no one noticed,
As McCaw moved over,
To quietly inspect and try,
The excess food,
The peoples had set aside.

A few minutes passed,
And the lady backed off,
Going for a little snack,
For her ‘new pet cat’.

Off she went,
Back to the far side of the fire,
And what a loud wail she sounded,
When she saw the muskrat’s tail!

For she thought it was,
That of a rat,
And you know how some can be,
When a wild rodent they see……….

Hearing that,
The gun-wielding man,
Turned his sights that way,
And let a round fly,
Thinking there was no time to be sly,
If he were to prevent,
Anyone else,
From joining his fireside.

But oh!
All he did,
Was knock over the cooler,
And off came the lid,
Spilling the contents,
And seeing the commotion,
To them McCaw ran,
To take advantage of this opening.

He was soon joined by Honda,
Who purred loudly as he ate,
Both stuffed themselves,
To their heart’s content,
And when they turned around,
There were photos being taken,
That later got sent,
To the news on Channel 7.

No one has since been able,
To have a lakeside gathering,
Without these two for company,
Kindly remember to bring extra,
For they’ve both got bottomless bellies.

Easter, Taken Seriously

**********
A long, long time ago,
A man-child was born,
Until he died,
Just a few decades later,
Crucified,
His head adorned,
With the crown of thorns.

But he was only dead,
For three short days,
He came to be,
Alive again,
And now to this day,
For the saved’s sins he pays.
**********

Free?
Free is for me!
That’s what they all say,
Until it comes to the deed,
That happened that day,
At Mount Calvary.

Then instantly,
It’s question this,
And argue that,
I’ve never seen such hesitancy,
For something completely free.

It’s uncanny,
Weird indeed,
This requirement of proof,
People need to concede,
That this ordeal,
Happened for real.

So disgraceful,
And undisputably unacceptable,
Misunderstanding this day,
As meant for that rabbit,
Rather than this lamb,
Will see you damned.

Oh the chicks are cute,
But can they give you,
A new life to boot?
Who doesn’t like a beautiful basket,
Full to overflowing with chocolate?
But will it get you,
Life beyond the casket?

**********
Think, think, think!
Life isn’t short,
Truth be told,
It’s very long,
Not gone in a blink,
Like you’ve been programmed to think,
But it’s lived mostly,
On the other side of the veil,
Spent in Heaven,
If here on Earth,
We prevail.

Going once,
Going twice,
Salvation is nice,
Won’t you accept it tonight?
**********

The Unicorn

For as long as anyone could remember,
It’s said a unicorn,
Has lived on the mountain yonder.

When was he born?
And would he ever die?
Was he maybe a myth?
No that can’t be,
Because some say he’s been seen,
And not just in visions and dreams.

He’s said to be really pretty,
With chocolate hair,
And flaxen points,
With the added flair,
Of a glittery silver horn,
Poking out from the forelock,
That is rare.

Some say they’ve seen him,
In the settlement,
At the bottom of the mountain,
Parading through the streets,
On his four fancy feet.

Legs lifted high,
As he trots,
Hoofs that match his horn,
Pound the pavement,
Each and every morn.

Or so they say,
But it’s happened that multiple people,
Have been in the same place,
At the same time,
And while some swear he whipped by,
Others saw nothing,
And say with an eye roll,
And a sigh,
“They must have been high”.

Many were sitting outside,
At the cafe,
On a morning kind of gray,
When one of the aged,
Said to her grandchild,
“Look at that horse!
It’s that one from the mountain,
Said to be wild”!

But……….
“What horse”?
Asked the small girl,
Standing in her chair,
Hoping for a glimpse,
Of that horse of course.

“That one”!
Exclaimed a young man,
One table over,
“See, he’s just stopped!
Check him out,
Before he runs”!

Now the whole patio,
Was in a turmoil,
Three more could see,
But no others,
And there must have been at least thirty.

The little girl,
Still could not see,
And told grandma stubbornly,
“Your advanced age,
Must be making you crazy”.

“For I,
Not yet quite nine,
Have sight far better than yours,
Which I’m sure is fine,
But definitely no better than mine,
So come now,
Sit down and dine”.

But grandma ignored the child,
For all the five,
Who could see,
Were torn between,
Laughing with glee,
And wanting to turn and flee.

Because the unicorn,
Was a sight to see,
Flaring his nostrils,
And pawing the ground,
After rearing up,
Then coming down,
But his eyes seemed more docile,
Than hostile,
It seemed he was having fun,
Watching the goings on,
Then just like that,
He turned and again,
Began to run.

“Oh look at the tail”!
Shrieked a little boy,
One of the seers,
“It looks six feet long”!
“Yes! It’s marvelous indeed”!
Grandma agreed.

The twenty-plus,
Who saw nothing,
Didn’t know what to think,
So soon all,
Ceased to speak.

Poor them,
Blind to the unseen realm,
Yes they were,
The majority,
But wrong they were,
And thankfully,
Didn’t cause a stir.

Now back up on the mountain,
The unicorn headed,
So he could get rested,
It was always so tiring,
After a morning run,
But it was also fun,
The reactions of the peoples,
While running through their streets,
Past shops,
And places to eat,
Placed among schools with bells,
And churches with steeples.

The unicorn,
Whose name,
By the way,
Was Horn,
Didn’t realize,
That most of the peoples,
To him were blind.

He got a kick,
Out of the excitement he caused,
Not understanding,
That a debate,
Had been ongoing,
Between those who had insistence,
Of his existence,
And those who had persistence,
That he was a fable,
Made to entertain,
At bedtimes and dinner tables.

He just knew,
That everyone became unbridled,
When he strolled through the city,
Yes it caused a commotion,
That made him laugh,
As he played it in his head,
All day in slow motion.

The tale of Horn,
Will continue to be told,
Throughout circles,
Both young and old,
Most believing it fiction,
But an esteemed few,
Know that it’s true.

Christmas Season Secret

Such essential accessories,
Take a picture with one,
For memories,
Hang it to be seen,
Season after season,
For no reason.

Do you suppose they feel froze,
When the wind blows?
Or do they enjoy being on a door,
As part of your holiday decor?

Vibrant evergreen,
Round and full,
Embellished with bells and bows,
That ring and blow,
When the weather brings,
Wind and snow.

Did you know,
At the far eastern edge of town,
There’s something supernatural,
At Christmas time,
Where any wreath hung,
Can communicate,
As though they’ve sprouted a tongue?

And they can see,
As though they’ve got eyes,
And they probably do,
They’re just not seen by you.

It’s mystical,
It’s unbelievable,
Remarkable,
And wonderful,
The way they tell the elves,
Who’s been naughty and nice,
While just hanging there,
Sparkling amongst,
The lights and ice.

What?
How did you think,
Santa finds out,
What you’re about?
Did you assume,
He’s all-knowing like God,
Or maybe finds out,
By committing fraud?


**********

I guess this is a shock,
Learning a piece of tree,
Can see and talk,
But please,
Don’t mock!
Things aren’t always,
As they seem,
Look beyond a surface,
And you may discover,
Dreams, screams, or schemes.

**********

Unbearable Mysteries

********************
Dying to know,
The reason for this season,
But it’s not for us to know,
As this show is not our own,
But belongs to Him alone.
********************

Someday it’ll be over,
And our heads won’t have the chore,
Of deliberating it anymore.

Someday it’ll be in the past,
And we won’t be overwhelmed,
For we’ll be a part,
Of the spirit realm.

Someday we’ll be on its other side,
And these mixed-up messes,
Will have turned to blessings.

Someday it’ll be worked through,
And when we’ve made it to Glory,
We can concentrate on me and you.

Someday it’ll be just a memory,
The details will be long forgotten,
Washed away,
Like dirt from a shirt of cotton.