The Sea Star’s Lament

Oh! To be a jellyfish within the deep blue sea.
To dance upon loose currents in that wet viscosity,
Where the great swell pulls around you
breathing out to sea and in
Fluidity without and liquidity within.

Oh! To be a jellyfish down in the ocean deep
To glide in inky blackness and the currents hurried sweep
Where you dance upon the motion
gently flexing tight then loose
attachment to the planet surrounding and diffuse.

Oh! To be a jellyfish and float on endless wave
The dream of open water that I cannot seem to brave
And though I lift my many toes
to feel it rush between
They cling to stone in spite of me and leave it all unseen.

But, oh!, to be a jellyfish!




It’s a balancing act, performed on one foot,
a thousand feet in the air
on a tight rope

We each carry a stack of plates
and we try to pass them back and forth
hopes, dreams, fears, needs

And then we added her

She enters the act with her own plates
that she throws to us
as she bounces across our rope

We frantically try to catch her,
her plates, a few of our plates spin

Some fall.

And we all wobble
But we find our balance
A new balance

One that leaves me clinging
desparately holding to the rope
with my toes

With plates balanced on my nose
as I hold my arms to either side,
a wishful frame of safety around her

And he is wild-eyed
holding more plates
his, hers, and mine

But the music starts

And we smile
and begin to dance

because in the end,
you can dance,

or fall

A little lost

If you find this you might figure that I got a little lost.
Between the scientist and poet there’s really not a lot
that should put me in the focus of a lens that seems to think
that the coolest thing about me is the coffee that I drink

I’m writing you this letter so that maybe you can know
that I really do much better when I’ve got something to show,
and the truth is that I’ve really spent too much time in these four walls
and I’m playing tiny dinosaurs and watching evening fall

and I’m waiting for the hours that come after bath and bed
when I get to be a person and I’m not stuck in my head,
ever wishing, ever dreaming of the girl I was back when,
when my own needs were all I had to worry over. Then

I recall the purpose and the love and all the joy
that come from playing dinosaurs and dress up and with toys.
And it’s plain to me that, while I might have got little lost, that
views are quite spectacular when I take the time to look
and I ought really ought to go ‘fore I write a frickin’ book.

If only I were

It needs some editing work. I’m not quite satisfied with the meter of it yet, but the theme is good.

Friendly Fara Froggy oggles her reflection,
feels lonesome, mourns that she’s not sleek
like Slender Sue.
“If I was long and graceful,
still and thoughtful,
then perhaps there would be some hope
that I could someday be a beauty, too.”

Slender Sue is coiled tightly,
under fronds that hide her body,
she feels so unsightly,
dreams she could laugh like Leopard Lil.
“If my voice were full and throaty,
deep vibrato, then just maybe
I would find a way to somehow speak my fill.”

Leopard Lil, she lounges, listless,
feeling lonely, and she wishes
she could play without a care like Fara Frog
“My voice is much too scary,
and I know that when they hear me,
everyone will run and hide ‘neath tree and log.”

So remember when you’re voiceless,
all alone, or just unsightly,
that everyone has sometimes been right there.
Wishing that they could be somebody,
someone pretty, someone funny.
More than often, wishing they were just like you.

Gray Goose is Blue.

“I’m blue.” Goose said, as he climbed out of bed.
Of course, he wasn’t. He was gray, like the day.
He was only blue on the inside of his head,
but some days, that’s enough.

He pulled on a robe and tied the sash tight.
For breakfast, in the fridge, there was only a smidge
of milk left. He would have to go out, despite
his mood which was foul.

“Oh, yuck!” He exclaimed, as the rain began to pour.
He hunched his head and would have run, not for fun,
but for cover, but he needed to get to the store.
Milk is important.

With his head hunched down, Goose couldn’t see a thing
so he walked right into Dog, and got him sog-
-gy, which just figured.  It was the kind of day that can bring
out the bad sort of luck.

“My! You’re all wet!” Dog observed of Goose,
rather obviously Goose thought. But, Dog, a swell fella, held his umbrella
over Goose while they walked.  Watching his chum, Dog began to deduce
the sort of day Goose was having.

They walked to the store and turned to head back
before Goose thought to ask why Dog had been out in the wet. “Don’t fret,”
said Dog, “but I haven’t had breakfast. I found that I lack-
-ed the necessary ingredients.

Goose felt rather bad. Here he had been feeling sorry and blue,
and Dog had been with him in the cold, but Dog, good as gold,
hadn’t complained. “Come on in,” said Goose, “I have enough for two,
and, I’d love to have the company.”

And, of course, Dog accepted, he was hungry, and understood
that when you’re blue in the head it’s better to be with a friend, who’ll lend
you a smile when you’re out of your own.  Besides he would
rather stay, as he’d woken up feeling rather blue himself.

My friend, Chris, suggested that I should write and illustrate children’s books. I think I’ll see if I can put together some illustrations for this. I wrote it over the course of about an hour after I put Fiona to bed. Constructive criticism welcomed!