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A word is dead when it is said, some say
Of all your four kids, which way does your love run.
I know! Its easy to see, the first born is always dear.
Well now, the explanation's easy, it's the baby for sure.
The second boy then, the skinny little introvert kid.
The answer will be easy now, as there is only one more.
You have named them all, the whole roll has been called.
.Sometime it's the one who needs help building a fence.
Contrary to popular belief, they all fit the description.
You're The Special One, they poke a finger at each other.
But they all fit the specifications, the same, or close.
May the Good Lord
May the good things of earth and heaven
May the blarney that ye speak--
May ye find
Ah, may ye find
May ye feel the arms of God
(Aye, 'tis better than a Scotch Blessing!)
And e'en though at rainbow's end
My hope: you feel God's blessings
My wish: This poem brings
"It's hard enough to balance after having a few
Bulger always followed Billy Bob and lay near by.
She'd hollered at Billy Bob as he stomped out,
But, Billy Bob was a man, he had to be boss.
Bulger sighed as they'd pulled up to the Dew Drop.
Billy Bob shuffled, on over to the pickup truck.
Bulger was puzzled as they pulled into the yard,
Bulger sighed and jumped down like he did a lot.
Betty Sue mumbled something, he couldn't tell.
Even through the floor, Bulger recognized the tone,
THE POET'S
NOOK
But I say it just begins to live that day.
Emily Dickenson
By John Daut
By Sandra Gwilliam
By John Daut
By Don Kurtz
THE SPECIAL ONE
John Daut
The Special One? Which one is it, you ask now?
That's easy, I quickly reply, but guess just for fun.
There is a system parents have, you have to know how.
That's always the favorite, especially when it's a boy.
No, I'm sorry you are not right, but you were very near.
The quest won't be that simple, but don't let it annoy.
They are always the closest, especially a little girl.
Once again you were very close, but your answer poor.
It's hard to understand, but keep giving it a whirl.
I know parents always have a special love for a son.
You are still very close, but now make yet another bid
The answer is pretty elusive, but you are almost done.
The afflicted child has to be the one who gets most love.
Again you are so close to right, to say no is a chore.
As strange as it sounds you have missed with the above.
The Special One you have ask me, which one can it be?
I've called you wrong on each and you must be galled.
But, I wasn't really quite fair with my answers you see
It may be the one needing some aid with a composition.
Sometime it's the one who needs help with their rents.
It may be one far from home just needing conversation.
The Special One is the one needing help at the time.
But they all seem to forget and then have a conniption,
When others get help and they act like it's a crime.
Dad does more for you and likes you more then me.
Don't be silly one says, you are the favorite of mother.
Well we know who it really is, as for once some agree .
Now of course, some seem to fit more often then not.
But if less often they get, it's more with each dose.
When love is spread around, it's all from the same pot.
LEPRECHAUN WISHES
Sandra Gwilliam
Smile upon Thee.
Be heaped upon Thee.
Bring a smile to the lips
And joy to the lives
Of those around ye.
Behind every dark cloud of sorrow,
A rainbow--
Leading to a golden pot of Joy.
Love,
Peace,
And Happiness
Forever in your life.
Ever 'round Thee--
Oh, may ye always feel the Love of the Lord!!
Aye,
A Leprechaun 'tis comin'
To bring a bit o' luck to you--
That pot o' gold is always out 'o view--
And me love for you--
A wee smile to you.The Anniversary
Billy Bob Jimson staggered and he almost fell,
He'd tromped on Bulger, who gave a mournful yell.
Billy Bob was drinking a few at the Dew Drop Inn.
"Crazy ol' hound, I'll shoot you and all your kin."
Billy Bob mumbled and stumbled a step or two
Specially with 6 long necks under your arm."
And your old coon dog sounding like a fire alarm.
Billy Bob loved coon hunting, now that's no lie.
But, for ol' Bulger, coon hunting was his whole life
Full moon tonight and he'd heard Billy Bob's wife.
"I guess you forgot our anniversary, You lout."
"Oh sure, we'll spend tonight together, you said."
Betty Sue flew off easy cause her hair was red
Like his daddy before him, who was a real hoss.
Bulger watched the shotgun slip it in the rifle rack
And, when the pickup started, Bulger was in back.
He hated the delay, but he was used to that stop.
After Billy Bob went in Bulger lay by the door.
He always lay there for a nap, on the porch floor.
Bulger followed, now alert, not stretching his luck.
"Get on back home, you stupid ol' coon hound."
Billy Bob got in. Bulger followed in one bound.
But trying to figure out humans was just to hard.
Billy Bob had the long necks as he walked to the house
Old Bulger watched as he slipped in like a mouse.
He crawled under the bedroom to his favorite spot.
He heard caps from the long necks hit the floor.
Boards squeaked and someone had opened a door.
Then bottles clinked and all was quite for a spell
Then Bulger could hear whispers up over his head.
Then Betty Sue giggled and Billy Bob got in bed.
And he knew that this night he would be all alone,
Bulger got comfortable, he remembered these deals
Then he put his paws on his ears to block the squeals.
THE GNOME
By John W. Daut
It was a dark and foggy night,
all sounds were muffled low.
You couldn't even see a light, or tell which direction to go.
It's the normal weather for fall, England's always been like this.
People here learned not to stall, they continue life in the mist.
Jed had just left the pub again, after telling his mates goodby.
He started down the old dirt lane, a little tipsy, stepping high.
But, to old Jed twas no concern, forty years he'd come this way.
He knew every hillock and turn. Course he walked it every day.
As he walked the dark narrow lane, his feet guided his pace.
They sent messages to his brain, about each rut and place.
Somehow tonight wasn't the same. His feet still knew the way.
He couldn't say what's to blame, he had felt peculiar all day.
A strange green star last night, had flashed across the sky.
The loud boom, the sky bright, over where the deep woods lie.
He'd lay on the bed to ponder, what had occurred in the wood.
But after sleep he didn't wonder. That memory vanished for good.
But older memories begin to jog, as his feet felt their way home.
Eerie noises from in the fog, recalled tales of the forest gnome.
Then way off a howl from a dog, and a weird glow where the path led.
The light floated nearer in the fog, it raised the hair on his head.
The lane glowed with a green light, at it's edge appeared a dim form.
Jed tried to see far as he might, to study the shape, safe from harm.
It's a gnome standing in the mist, old Jed decided almost in a daze.
Then the green form lifted a fist, and the shape moved in the haze.
Jed made the sign of the cross, but was rooted there by his fear.
The gnome also seemed at a loss, but was ready to run like a deer.
But the tension was finally broke, after old Jed got up his nerve."
Who be you?" Jed loudly spoke, with a voice loud enough to serve.
The gnome appeared to be startled, then opened a glass at his face.
He replied "WIMBRA HIST MARTLED." The glass closed, it was a case!
Though scared, Jed didn't stop. There's a head in that glass box.
He banged his cane on it's top, and hollered loud, "On you a pox."
A green ray cut the cane to a nub, then Jed was alone in the lane.
There was a red flame at it's stub, his body shook from the strain.
"Sixty years I walked this lane, before I finally saw a gnome.
Then I attack him like I'm insane. Now I've scared the booger home.
What a tale to pass on at the pub, me mates will listen to me now.
But then again, there's the rub. They wouldn't believe me, no how."
He walked on down the lane a bit, his brain spinning to conceive.
If a gnome opens a glass to spit, what's he do after a laxative?
THE TURN OF THE CENTURY
By Don Kurtz
We're living it up in '98
And for us ol' folks
Still within the gate,
With the passage of time,
It would be fine
To still be kicking in '99.
Oh what joy; oh what glee,
To see the turn of the century!