Some Children’s Poems

Sun comes up and shines all day
Over clouds so very gray;
Underneath there’s all this snow,
Doesn’t shine or give a glow.

Dinner’s waiting, day is past;
I am running home so fast!
Sun is gone now, stars are bright
Somewhere in the old dark night.


Blades of grass are sweet to kiss,
But to eat I’d rather miss.
Roses, too, are nice to touch,
But I’d rather ice for lunch.

Butterflies have flown away;
Only snowflakes come to play.
I can catch them—see! Right here!
In my hand a little tear.

Winds a-blowing, huff and puff!
Took my hat; I said, “Enough!”
Winds are deaf and winds are dumb;
Now I’m running more than some!

Hat in pocket, glad I stand.
Wind has such a soft light hand
My hand was a thing so strong
I will sing the whole day long!

Orange for breakfast, orange for lunch,
Orange for dinner—oh, too much!
I’ll be orange before you know,
Lips and nose and chin a-glow!

The Ant

I saw an ant a-working hard,
But never heard it pant.
Did not complain of sun or rain;
It never said, “I can’t.”

It lifted trees and boulders high,
It carried to and fro;
It never said to Nature, “No,
I’ll not your strength defy.”

But it keeps working very hard,
And never says, “I can’t,”
Does not complain of sun or rain,
This glorious tiny ant.

Up, Down

Up the stairs, one, two, three,
Four, five, six, to the top!
If my house was stairs on stairs
I think I’d never stop.

Down the stairs, one, two, three,
Four, five, six, to the done.
If my house lost all its stairs
I’d have to build me some!

Only Me

The snow outside was very deep,
As if the world was fast asleep.
Nothing moved and nothing stirred;
There was no song of happy bird.

The wind was still, the drifts were high;
My house had one un-covered eye,
And from my attic I could see
There was only, only me.

My Friends

Blows the wind,
But not the sun;
Stars twinkle,
But not the wind.

I can see,
But not the clouds;
Close my eyes,
I still can run.

Branches bend,
Rocks do not;
Neither boil
In the pot.

Wind and trees
Sway together;
I swing stones,
They’re my friends.

Dogs don’t twinkle,
Cats don’t blow;
Horses boil—
Oh no, no, no!

Girls can skip,
And so can stones,
But girls are much
Too big to throw!

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A few light-hearted bits.

Daisy and Buttercup
Romped through the snow;
Daisy got lost
And Buttercup howled.

A pure white ball
Rolled at my feet—
Buttercup’s loud,
But Daisy is sweet!


Wing and Dang

Wing and Dang
Leaped the fence!
Wing was winging,
Dang went fast.

Wing’s like wind,
Dang’s like light;
O’er the hills
They gallop bright!

Wing is white,
Dang is black;
When, oh when,
Will they fly back?

Black storm grows;
White light cracks;
Here they come, galloping,
Making tracks!


Flim and Soxy

Flim and Soxy
Move together;
Twins they seem
In every weather.

In just an hour
A foot they’ve got—
When snails move
They move a lot!


Max and Snorky

Max and Snorky
Were swordfish two.
They sawed away
At Ocean Blue.

The sailors slept
Up in their boat
As half from half
Away did float.

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For Me

Work like a machine, he said,
And left and right
All through the night
He worked to save their lives.

His hands were torn,
His feet were lead,
His eyes and mouth were dry,
Yet through that blank wall
On he went,
Striking, shoveling,
Almost spent,
To reach the other side.

His fellow workers
Lay on back
With many a broken limb.
The tunnel’s fall
Had trapped them all,
And it was up to him—
To work, to strive,
To keep alive,
Though air was getting thin.

He felt their moans,
He heard their groans
(Or was it him he heard?),
As on he went,
Half live, half spent,
Each swing of pick now blurred.

Oh, gather again
Together again
All your strength and will;
All you’ve got
Must give up—NOT!
I will, I must, I can!

Another swing—
Is it the last?
If I’d just one more breath!
But there! Some air!
A chink of light!
He’s done it! Beaten death!

There is no crowd
Outside the wall;
They’re at the other end.
He hears the wails
Of wives and friends,
But has no strength to call.

He sits and laughs
A silent laugh,
He is so glad to be.
For them I gave
A spirit brave,
But me I gave for me.

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When Life Comes…

When life comes forth from inanimate things
And through the living death takes wing,
When into deadness live things go
And out of ashes new things grow,
Then all the world must take a bow,
For as things were so they are now,
And naught began and naught has end,
Except this conscious life we hold
That while we have it is live gold—
To use and spend, but never lend.

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Follow The Gleam

Men, if you strive with all your might
To keep alive your inner light,
Not let it falter, shrink or fail,
Nor in a crowd let it grow pale;
If rational you is your high truth,
Not giving way to age or youth,
Nor giving to authority
Your standard of self-sovereignty;
If all the lies of tyrant rant
Don’t leave you thinking, “No, I can’t”
But, persevering harder still,
You climb that next high rising hill;
If all the worst bad laws can do
While cutting off a clear way’s view,
Can’t blind you to the one thing right,
That you’re alive and you will fight;
If all the world stands with the dark
And you’re the last undying spark,
Then lift your feet and walk your way
And in your stride exalt your day!

Along the road of hero men
There is no going back again;
The highest purpose steers you clear
Of rationalistic doubt and fear.
No reason tells you not go on
Who are the first of man’s new dawn;
And as you seek that peak so high,
And in your climbing clasp your “I”,
The sun-god of the world will shine
And you will own the spirit—“Mine.”

You’re not of crowds and not of mass;
You don’t lie down with paling grass;
You’re not a stream of air or wind
Full lost within the sin you’ve sinned,
But rather, like a shooting star,
Or bird out-flying others far,
With single aim and vision new
The openings of space pursue,
And risk and venture, free, elate,
Beyond all reach of state and fate,
A man who’s life is more than dream,
A pure, un-mystic, self-made gleam!

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Midas Day Boom

Oh, Midas Day swings round again
With cheering might for happy men:
The bells and smells of Midas-time
That steer the year’s beginning/end,
When presents will present their joys
For laughing children, girls and boys,
And all will hear glad Midas noise
All over this glad town!

Each Midas tree is standing bright
With dangling jewel and sparkling light;
Each Midas sign—the dollar sign–
Is glowing gold with luster fine;
And each live Midas song rings free
With happiness that loves to be
For year-long working industry
All over this glad town!

The hills are hacked, the oil fracked,
The profits are laid out and stacked.
Each oil man’s un-foiled grin
Declares a king of single win,
And all together strut with pride
Through stores with toys on every side—
For nephew, baby, new-made bride,
All over this glad town!

Aroma of the turkey roast,
Aroma of the dark green pine,
Aromas past of toil and sweat—
The persevering faces set—
Combine in mind the hearty boast
That “What I’ve made is truly mine
And Midas Day is my won bet
All over this glad town!

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A white, light pink rose petal now
Has fall’n upon your brow
As deep you sleep, a-breathing soft.

I gently blow it off your brow,
And yet another comes,
Half caught within your hair.

I blow; it shakes and waves at me
And tells me no, no, no.

I lay my cheek against your arm;
My lips just touch your breast.

I close my eyes while petals fall
And rest and rest and rest.

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