This I Promise

I may get old,

But I won’t get fat,

You couldn’t pay me enough,

To get like that.

I may get old,

But I won’t act my age,

I’ll let my true colors show,

Wherever I go.

I may get old,

But I won’t get lazy,

Although I may be,

The one the neighbors call crazy.

I may get old,

But I won’t get frail,

I’ll be tough enough to hold up,

Through a raging gale.

I may get old,

But I won’t lose it all,

I haven’t worked my whole life,

Just to have a downfall.

I may get old,

But I won’t be forgetful,

My memories will be right there,

Behind my temples.

I may get old,

But I won’t go grey,

I’ll do myself up pretty,

‘Til my dying day.

I may get old,

But I won’t be a nag,

I’ll let the younger generations,

Do whatever makes their tails wag.

I may get old,

But I won’t turn into a recluse,

Everyone will know of me,

Like a child knows of Mother Goose.

I may get old,

But I won’t be feeble,

I’ll still drive around,

In a big diesel.

I may get old,

But I won’t change my mind,

There’s a reason that one,

Became a favorite of mine.

I may get old,

But I won’t give up,

I’ll still be here,

Livin’ it up.

The Little Chick Had To Fly

I’m a little yellow chick,

Who once worked alongside,

The Easter Rabbit,

I helped him decide,

What to put in all the baskets,

I really tried,

But it did not suit me,

So I took a ride.

I hopped a train,

And got off,

At its tenth stop,

Where I ran into a cop,

Holding up a blue umbrella,

‘Cuz it was pouring down rain.

Being a chick,

From a Fairyland,

I could read,

So I found a sign,

Telling me I was in the Big Apple,

How divine!

I took up a residence,

In Central Park,

Where I made friends with a frog,

Who hangs out,

With a loud crowd,

We sometimes like to trip,

People out for a jog,

Or startle a dog,

And make him bark.

One night while out,

On the town,

I got an idea,

Out of the blue,

And on each chicken leg,

I got a tattoo,

One is a lion,

The other is a lamb,

Man I’m loving the city,

And my legs so pretty!

I became very fond,

Of the hustle and bustle,

And the worldly ways,

But I still kept Easter,

In my heart of hearts,

Though I made room too,

For other things to have a part.

I eventually built up my place,

Into a regular chicken mansion,

That was very handsome,

Full of furniture and such,

Of the latest fashions.

Now I realized I had,

Too much time on my hands,

So I took a job,

At a hotdog stand,

Where I heard lots of music,

And got interested,

In joining a band.

So my frog friend,

And the rest of our circle,

Got ourselves up our own band,

We played Christmas music,

And our frontman was a turtle,

Oh how this would make,

Those Easterland Creatures lose it!

The years flew by,

Full of fun and fortune,

’til by and by,

I was feeling my age,

And decided to,

Live life with more caution.

That was so many years ago now,

A quarter – century,

To be exact,

That time stuffing baskets,

Is just a distant memory,

Now I work in a factory,

Machining parts for weaponry.

I still go back for Easter,

If I didn’t,

Dear old Mr. Rabbit,

Would have my keister,

I can now appreciate these weeks,

I spend there,

We have a great parade,

Before delivering all the baskets,

Then come home to a smashing party,

And spend hours eating,

And dancing to delightful beats.

But fun as it is,

I’m satisfied,

That I spread my wings,

I’ll never regret,

Doing my own things,

I’m always happiest when I’m again,

At my own dreamy den.

Think Before You Speak

Earl was an eccentric little rabbit,

About which,

Everyone made quite a racket,

He was as ordinary as you please,

Really a lovely fellow,

But there was always talk about,

Him wearing a long black jacket,

And his strange love for eating jello.

Some squirrels say his jacket,

Is to aide him in black magic,

He’s not normal,

And he must be up to tricks,

But the otters believe,

It’s just his blameless lucky charm,

And fits naturally to him,

As much as his own arm.

The rest of them,

All have their own view too,

So I feel I ought,

To clear things up with you:

He’s a fuckin gem!

His many weird habits,

Make him unlike the other rabbits,

Like when he ventures out of the woods,

To stock up on people goods.

While he is gone,

Others quake with fear,

As their minds produce some crazy thoughts,

Of things he may be getting up to,

He just buys innocent things,

Like spinach and whiskey,

And lugs them back,

In a big black sack,

But he keeps his doings on the down-low,

So they get freaked out,

By what they don’t know.

He’s quite the early bird,

Each morning he happily wakes,

Then after putting the coffee on,

Heads outside,

Where he does a wild dance,

And the onlooking deer deem him absurd,

As they look on in a trance.

It’s not totally that tragic though,

See these deer don’t know,

He’s saying some words,

That encourage their meadow grasses to grow.

He won’t partake of his coffee,

Without first reciting a good-luck phrase,

That his mother used to hope,

Would be just a phase,

As it made her hair raise.

I’ll give you that,

Yes this could be a tad odd,

But it has done things amazing,

Like preventing a carelessly tossed match,

From setting their whole wood ablaze.

He grows alfalfa and carrots,

On all sides of his cottage,

And enjoys watching their progress,

During an evening sit,

On his wrap-around terrace.

It’s said he does strange things,

While out there each evening,

The Old Owl is always watching,

And says supposedly his lips move,

But put forth no sound,

And his crazy hand motions,

Have been told of for miles around.

In reality he’s just humming,

Relaxing himself with a merry tune,

While tapping his arm chair,

With his ice cream spoon.

Today he outwitted a tiger,

And stopped him from terrorizing a spider,

The truth’s still being sorted out,

Of just how that came about.

Orlando the Owl swears,

That last evening on his porch,

He saw him do a dance,

While swinging ’round a torch,

So it must have been a spell,

How else,

He asks,

Could he have made a tiger fell?

Truth be told,

If he could have done such a thing,

He’d rather use such excessive powers,

To fill his pockets full of gold.

Sunday is his fun day out,

One week he’ll go here,

And meet an old school peer,

For a game of solitaire,

Another week he may go there,

In search of a new cologne,

To spray upon his hair.

Sandra the Sparrow speculates,

That he does evil on these dates,

Why else,

She says,

Would he wander out so far,

Without taking his flashy car?

But he is not at all about Hell,

She does not know what it is she tells.

Here’s the truth:

He’s out there having fun,

Dodging busy noses,

As they’re trying to find out,

Everything under the blazing sun,

That he’s ever done.

Do you maybe have an Earl,

Somewhere near to where you are?

Are you maybe being less than fair,

While you sit there judging,

From your high and mighty chair?

Some Different Views Of A Shoe

Different eyes,

Light upon the same thing,

In one it ignites joy,

While it makes another’s world spin,

Boy oh boy,

Have you ever considered,

That what’s good for the digger,

May be bad for the chigger?

*************************

I found some new soles,

They are so awesome,

They make my soul sing,

Did u just say something?

I didn’t actually understand a thing,

I was just doing some imagining.

Oh,

Yes I do know,

I’ve a closetful already,

But I must make these beauties mine,

If it costs me my last dime.

Shoes,

They are so exciting,

You must have some in every style,

And each style in at least a few colors,

Buying these will make me smile,

If I run out of space,

I’ll just start putting them in piles.

*************************

A hole tunneled in a crack,

Of a busy sidewalk,

That is my front door,

I like being in the middle,

Of the daily hustle and bustle,

But there is one thing about it that I abhor.

They scare me,

And no matter when,

I need to come or go,

I am greeted by them,

No doubt one day,

One will be the reason for my end.

Some are fast,

And some are slow,

But they’re always going past,

These shoes that encase people’s feet,

Ready to squash a bug like me,

Who dares reside on their main street.

*************************

I’ve made a nest,

In the corner of a cupboard,

I really like it too,

But I may have to move.

Apparently the lady of the house,

She is scared of me,

A teeny-tiny mouse.

She was up early today,

And saw me doing,

My morning dart across the kitchen,

She screamed at me so long and loud,

I clearly saw her pearly whites,

Who knew the little woman,

Could be such a chicken?

Now I’m on one side of the room,

And she is on the other,

I see her taking off her shoe,

To try and bash my head in,

I hope I make it past,

That horrifying thing,

As I make a mad dash for cover.

I made it,

And she had a hissy fit,

I’ve now got an enemy,

And she can whip them off pretty fast,

They are a definite danger to me,

So until I move,

I guess I won’t be sleeping very soundly.

*************************

A big comfortable house,

Where I’m the one and only dog,

I have many toys,

And a bed with lots of blankets,

I’m allowed to make a lot of noise,

And I eat foods fit for a fancy banquet.

I enjoy all of these trappings,

But what I really love to do,

Is chew on a good shoe.

I miss my people when they’re out,

So I sniff around ’til I find something,

That smells strongly of them,

Very good!

They’ve left more shoes lying around,

I wag my tail,

And go to town.

Clumsy Crissy’s Cupid-Day Crisis

I woke up late,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

I thought I’d make up time,

With my roller-skates,

But I tripped,

On a melon rind,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

When I got there,

There was a guard,

Posted at the gate,

And he stared me down from afar,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

The old fool made me wait,

He didn’t care,

That I was in dire straits,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

Turns out I’d,

Mixed up the date,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

It’s now lunchtime,

I’d better find some place,

To fill my plate,

And hope I don’t gain eight,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

I met a man,

While I ate,

And he seemed great,

But I knew he wouldn’t want me,

In my present state,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

I’ve changed from my skates,

And have a smoother gait,

But now it’s too late,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

At this rate,

I’ll have to move states,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

Back at home,

All my mind does is roam,

I can’t concentrate,

Guess I should lift some weights,

To tamp down the hate,

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

It’s a new day,

Will it be a clean slate,

Or be filled,

With yesterday’s traits?

I really hate,

When things go like that,

But maybe that’s my fate.

*************************

All is well,

He took the bait,

We had some dates,

And he’s now my mate,

Maybe the day,

Had to be a brat,

For life to turn around like that.

I think I’d Like That

I’d rather be a tree,

This way I’d not be everyone’s focus,

Probably the animals,

Would be the only ones to give me any notice.

I’d rather be a dog,

This way I could laze around all day,

My biggest worry being,

If I’m in anybody’s way.

I’d rather be a dollar bill,

This way I’d travel ’round the world for free,

Going from this wallet to that hand,

I’d see it all from sea to sea.

I’d rather be a horse,

This way I could use my hooves,

To beat up my enemies,

And no one would disapprove.

I’d rather be a sea shell,

This way I could live on the beach,

Without the beach house mortgage,

Yes that would make life just peachy.

I’d rather be a parrot,

This way I could yak all day,

And people would laugh not be offended,

By the truths I’d say.

I’d rather be a Christmas wreath,

This way I could go in hiding almost all year,

Rather than deal with people,

Not as rosy as they appear.

I’d rather be a dairy cow,

This way I’d have no responsibility,

Except for giving you cream and butter,

With a mood of docility.

I’d rather be a television,

This way I could portray the bad news,

But since it would not affect me,

I’d not have cause to worry or feel blue.

I’d rather be a tiger,

This way I could be so scary,

No one would dare laugh,

Just because I prefer a life this solitary.

I’d rather be a book,

This way every day would be relaxing,

I’d just sit in a little nook,

Instead of doing things that prove taxing.

I’d rather be a flower,

This way I could be pretty always,

No more taking time for makeup,

And covering up greys.

*************************

No one’s wholly happy,

With who or what they are,

If we all were,

No one would get far,

It’s not complaining,

It’s knowing damn well what you’re worth,

Don’t just take what you’re given and smile,

If all you ever have,

Is the hand you’re dealt,

You may as well keel over,

And become just more dust for the Earth.

No Ordinary Pony

Teeth that elongate,

That’s the way I was created,

But I’m glad it is this way,

As blood is so much cheaper than hay.

No doubt you’ve heard of vampires,

And I’m sure you’ve seen a pony,

But I bet you wouldn’t believe,

That there’s a Being around who’s both,

For any amount of money.

I have no idea,

How long I’ve roamed the Earth,

I’ve never really,

Put much thought into my birth,

Most likely I’ve been around,

Since the beginning of time,

Anyway,

That thought sure does make me seem sublime.

I wouldn’t consider myself demon-like,

Although I’m certainly no angel,

At times I suppose,

I’m a bit of a scoundrel,

But in no way,

Does this make me pure evil.

I believe I’m one-of-a-kind,

At least never before,

Have I met any exactly like myself,

Though I admit,

I gave up looking a millennia ago,

Searching was such a bore,

And seemed like such a chore.

*************************

Let me tell you what I see,

When I look at me,

In case you yourself know of any,

And so could tell me.

**************************

I look like your usual stable pony,

But there is one telling difference,

That sets me apart from others,

I am a loner,

Looked upon by other horses with bitterness,

I’m never welcomed in the herd,

And from me they always flee.

At first glance you’ll see I’m sweet as honey,

But you’ll notice when I get hungry,

My eyes will glow rose red,

And my four teeth front and corners,

Extend way out from my head.

Each person who has known me,

Has come upon me strangely,

It must happen this way,

So they don’t figure out,

That I do not age or die.

I’ve always just felt this inkling,

Saying someone needs me,

And when it’s time to start anew,

I slip off into the night,

And wander aimlessly away.

They think me an easy keeper,

I need just a minimum of feed,

But still stay plump,

With plenty of energy to jump,

Each time I wander into someone’s life,

They like the fact that I come cheap,

But I bet they’d freak,

If they knew what I got up to,

Each time they fall to sleep.

When the night creatures come out,

I gallivant about,

I’m on the prowl,

For a fat bit of fowl.

To them it’d be just gore,

I have no doubt,

It would make sure,

They did not like me anymore,

That’s why I do my food route by night,

So I don’t have to listen to them shout.

*************************

In between ‘homes’ though,

Is when I’m most at home,

It’s embedded in my bones,

The love to roam.

Laying in a field of flowers,

Free to devour,

Whatever I please,

No matter the hour.

An Improbable Holiday Happening

In case you happen,

To give a damn,

A thousand miles,

From wherever you are,

In a place quite inaccessible,

By a car,

Lives a Candy Cane,

Who is alive.

A Winter Wonderland,

We would call it,

It’s all white and barren,

And populated

By surly Snow Men.

Here in this Christmassy place,

Where there are many living Things,

One day there came,

A great storm cloud,

There were gusty winds,

That were terrible loud,

It soon burst forth,

With a sugary rain,

As down poured Candy Canes.

Most were devoured,

By all the Snow Men,

But one was spared,

And as he grew up,

It was declared,

That he was sent,

To make the Snow Men repent.

You see these surly Snow Men,

Did many crimes,

During their lifetimes,

Because in this lawless land,

One could do whatever,

Without reprimand.

Due to his sweet nature,

The Candy Cane became known,

As Mr. Sugar Cane,

And at the age of ten,

Learned his magical powers,

Permitted him to,

Think of a spot,

And be transported there,

On the dot.

Through books he learned,

About far-off places,

Where he went,

To meet new faces.

Most places he visited,

Just once but maybe twice,

‘Til he happened upon,

A jolly couple,

Old and fat,

And always happily chuckling,

The Mr. made toy trains for fun,

And the Mrs. had a barn,

She kept full of pet fawns.

Mr. Sugar Cane,

Visited this place often,

He loved the winter weather,

And the way everyone there,

Got on well together.

One day while conversing,

With old Nick and Mary,

Talk turned to the Snow Men,

He started cursing,

And told of their crimes,

Then expressed a wish for his home,

To experience more peaceful times.

It was proposed by Nick,

That he could employ,

These naughty boys,

To make tons of toys.

A great spell could be cast,

For them to forget their past,

He would call them Elves,

And curse them to always,

Keep toys on his workshop’s shelves.

Once a year,

Old Nick would deliver,

These toys to bring cheer,

To small boys and girls,

All over the world.

Even the deer volunteered,

To help with formulating,

This Master Plan,

And soon another spell was developed,

Fitting them to fly,

Now they could take,

Old Nick on the deliveries,

As with his old van,

He’d never make them on time.

That night when the Candy Cane returned home,

He had some magic stuff,

All sparkly and blue,

He went from place to place,

Where each Snow Man dwelled,

And this dust was felled,

It would take effect,

When next they crossed,

Over their doorstep.

They would be conveyed very quickly,

To the world of Nick and Mary,

Now called North Pole,

Where they were unknowingly slaves for life,

Toymaking forever,

With no time to cause strife.

Mr. Sugar Cane is still there,

In his Winter Wonderland,

Along with many other living Things,

Who think the place grand.

His best friend is a Christmas stocking,

Now in our world,

That would surely set people to talking,

But here,

It’s really not too shocking.

Whether or not you believe it,

This story should not be scorned,

As this really was how,

The North Pole got born.

Turkeys Hate Thanksgiving

Tucker Turkey here,

And I’ve just learned that people,

Have a funny way of showing they are thankful,

And I think that it is dreadful.

They must be mad,

I hear a feast is had,

And turkey meat,

Is the main fare on to eat.

Who decided we are good to eat?

Who came up with stuffing us,

And calling it a treat?

I won’t accept this fate,

I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!

Sorry Mr. Farmer,

If your plans are shattered,

But I won’t be being roasted,

And presented on a platter,

I don’t care if you starve,

It won’t be me you carve!

I thought I had the good life here,

I am so very fond,

Of my lazy days spent by the pond,

I’d not have guessed,

There were plans to kill me off,

Like one of the poison pests.

In one week to the day,

Light will dawn,

On their holiday,

So I must fly away,

To prevent becoming prey.

I think I’ll be a city bird,

In a paradise,

Where the weather’s always warm,

And killing their own meal,

Is not the people’s norm.

I’ve been told Miami’s marvelous,

And L.A. is lovely,

I wonder if the Sahara,

Would be satisfying?

To which of these places,

With year-round sun,

Should I run?

********************

I ended up in Vegas,

Where I soon became famous,

So shove it farmer,

‘Cuz it looks like it is certain,

That for me it’s not yet curtains.

I like the casinos and the shows,

And how at night,

Everything glows,

Each day I feel excitement,

Here is so different from the country,

Where it was mostly silent.

Yes this city’s full of charm,

And I do not miss the farm,

But yes Mr. Farmer,

I most definitely do,

Wish you harm!

Mountain Travels

I’m going through the Smokey Mountains,

Somewhere in Tennessee,

All by myself,

Yup only me.

My, my,

This place is dark and empty,

And I swear,

The Lord Almighty could come to here,

And I would mistake him for Lucifer,

Here to help promote fear.

Picturing what’s waiting,

On the other side,

Helps me to,

Endure the eerie ride.

A monster awaits me,

Behind that tree,

Any moment now,

It will reach out and grab me.

While I wind my way,

Around each bend,

Thoughts such as this,

Occupy my head,

And even though it’s not that likely,

I’m paranoid,

These monsters want me dead.

These roads are vacant,

No matter what others are on my same path,

There’s not even one street lamp in sight,

And I wonder,

Do they too,

Imagine a monster’s wrath?

These terrifying mountain roads,

Mile after endless mile,

They are so terrorizing,

While I’m passing through here,

There’s nothing that would,

Entice a smile.

Any and every,

Creepy tale I’ve ever heard,

They no longer seem absurd,

The one of alien abduction especially,

Has me right now in a most fearsome reverie.

Evil sorceresses and sorcerers,

Practicing their darkened magic,

Oh I hope that I am wrong,

For I imagine a baker’s dozen,

Waiting on a scapegoat to hijack.

Scary movie scenes reel through my mind,

Hauntings and gore and demonic possessions,

These horrors have always horrified me,

But never until now did I think,

That maybe they could become reality.

Up ahead I see a shadow person,

Apparently yes,

This nightmare can worsen,

So I turn up my speaker volume,

Hoping to be distracted,

And pray for the demons,

To be extracted.