Fun

First I Wrote My Name

Once I bounced a ball,

The paper was my wall,

It bounced around my head a while,

That ball and me , we shared a smile.

 

Then I drew a house,

With windows for a mouse,

With curtains, blue and yellow lace,

I told myself, "I like this place".

 

Then I went to schools,

There they taught me rules,

The first the rule was to "write your name",

I recognized a different game.

 

Junior High breezed through,

The years passed by, they flew,

The days were filled with sitting still,

My parents worked to pay the bill,

I gained a lot of nothing missed,

Always writing, my hand a fist.

 

And now that years have passed,

I'm on my own at last,

When memory of that ball comes back,

I reminisce, I see the lack,

That ball is bouncing back to me,

It tells me learning should be free.

 © 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Education should be 'free' ie: free mind to learn about what one chooses and not only what it is in writing in a page of a book, or thoughts of opinion that have been masterfully manipulated to concoct another's idea of the 'truth'. That is not an education. That is simply the idea someone else gives you that you have one (an education).

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Musical Arrangement

I can taste the sound of laughter,

Like molasses on my tongue,

Like the sun is heard in chorus,

Childlike and full of fun,

When I touch the sight of scarlet,

It feels smooth against my skin,

And the smell of fresh pink hyacinth,

Hangs noodles down my chin.

A snowflake softly graces the wind,

A raindrop meets a lake,

If synesthesia ruled the world,

We might all be chocolate cake.

 

© 2012

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The Silk Shirts

There is no day my grandfather, Candelario, doesn’t wear his silk shirts. He has every design of this type of shirts. Ever since I remember he has always worn these silk shirts. I’m not sure when he started wearing this shirts, perhaps it was from his years as a president of Abasolo, Tamaulipas in which he had to dress nicely, or perhaps ever since he got his major as a doctor, but every time I think of my grandpa I remember his silk shirts.

His nicknames, given by his grandkids, moved from Calendario to Yiyo to Kiko, the family started to grow, from my mother to me (the oldest grandchild), to my cousin Regina (the youngest in the house, only 3 years old); a lot of happiness ran trough the family, along with tears of tragedy and sadness, but he never changed his look.

Every 7 of July (his birthday), father’s day or Christmas, or any celebration, it has become a family tradition to give him as a present silk shirt or his pants or some socks and even shoes to keep his style. The softness of the shirt makes it really nice to hug him or receiving his hugs, it is one of my favorite things to do.

I think that these shirts talk a lot about his personality. He is a responsible and focused person. He always directs to people in a respectful way, even tough he has a strong personality, he is hard on the outside but in the inside there is a completely different person.

I used to call him grumpy because he was very bossy when I was growing; I actually got to fear him as I grew. Now, this man is one of my best friends. In spite of being this good person, he has no patience at all and often tells us stories about how he scares little kids when they go to him at his consulting room. He likes joking a lot; even tough kids don’t enjoy it.

With his very well defined sense of style, his changing sense of humor, I adore this man. It is a blessing to have him. He had 2 heart attacks 14 years ago and the doctors said he would only be with us for 10 years. He has focused in living for the moment and enjoying life as much as he can. That is why I believe he always wants to be presentable and looking good for others to remember him exactly as he is. 

 

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I wondered

Folder: 
Finished Poems

Saturday I watched the snowfall, as I walked on the sidewalk;

I wondered, why did I hate snow so much, if all it was, was water;

The Icee thin crystals were soft and beautiful;

All the little kids loved making snowmen, and having snow fights;

I wondered, had I lost my spirit?

 

Yesterday I watched little kids, more like stared;

All the laughter and screams came from them in the most joyous way;

I wondered, why did children enjoy laughing and screaming at nothing;

Is it because i'm grown and they're still innocent human beings;

All you had to do was look at their cute baby faces and they would laugh;

They would laugh because they're innocent.

 

Today I watched my puppy play, more like tease my cat;

I wondered, why did my dog like being so playful;

Her thick, black and white tail had slapped my cat in the face;

Yet she moaned and growled as if to laugh at her doing;

I wondered, why can't I have as  much fun as my dog?

 

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There's holes everywhere.

Folder: 
Children's Poetry
 
There's holes in your blanket,
holes between your toes,
Holes in your ears 
And holes up your nose
 
Holes in the ceiling and 
Holes in the floor
Holes that you never knew were there before...
 
Holes that are big
and holes that are small,
holes that you've never seen at all
 
Now who puts all those holes there?
A small mouse under the chair?
Who knows, they're just there. 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

I just told this randomly to my son while putting him to bed. He seemed to like it & I hope you & your families do too. 

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New Year

Folder: 
Emotion

Music from the heart
Strung by an electric guitar
Melodies that have been brought
Turned a song within' my head

A song so irresistable
A song I had to hear

Dancing within' the voice
Swaying in the ripples
Of the tune so soothing
A voice so addictive

Caused me to sing along
Dancing to the tune
Eighties rock told me to drink
Told me smoke some weed

As the crowd turned out bigger
Isolated in their sweat
Partying on like 2007
Brought the New Year
Once again

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Bringing in the New Year of 2007.

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tags:

pokemon

Folder: 
haiku

Pikachu, oh you,
Buddies till the end of time,
There is only you.

From One Admirer To Another

Dear Sir,

My apologies for the overtly stark message, but I couldn’t help but notice your previous passage. I too suffer from a similar illness, one too few can understand or witness. Ridiculous, I know, and felt for a time. Before I realized the symptom was rhyme. I thought myself crazy, strange, even insane. Especially when I deduced it came without pain. Is it a virus, bacteria, or some kind of infection? Does it tickle your iris, tibia, do I need an injection?! I’m writing you with hopes for a solution. Perhaps just another sick induced delusion. Regardless, I look forward to your letter or call.

I’m here if you need me,
Anonymous Paul
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Paul,

I must admit, I’m quite shocked to see your message. Especially amongst this metrical rhyme wreckage. It puzzles me that you come with the proposition that our unique experience is a medical condition. Alarming it was to me as well. Harming, the thought I needed to repel. Once you start to get into the flow, your heart will most certainly start to glow. It’s hip, it’s new, all the kids are doing it! One tip, a clue, its easier to submit. Fighting against it will only make it worse. Writing dissent towards it could prolong your curse. Tell me why you think it’s affecting your ability to communicate; infecting your activity. I sincerely hope this message finds you well. Feel free to reach me on my blog or cell. I await the day for your message to come. Until then my friend.

Your pal,
TUM

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This is fun

It's time to refine this thought of mine. To underline, design, and further define. One can't help but notice the attention. Something beyond all comprehension. Little did I expect, aware I was not. Such an effect, my senses are shot. Failed to foresee, unable to compute. Now I agree, unfit to dispute.

The power of rhyme, one can plainly see. A forgotten paradigm, buried under debris. Does it please, entertain, and fill with emotion? Bring you down to you knees to attain devotion? So luring, attractive, it must cause ill health. I'm assuring, proactive, revealing its wealth. Spreading information is important to me, besetting inspiration is all I can see. Never before has my domain seen traffic. I abhor, it's insane, almost pornographic.

I think it's time to face the music. The masses demand I change the rubric. The first of many, my decision is final. My thirst for any provision of viral. So go, be free, spread amongst the net. Know I'll agree, adjust, yet still fret. A worry that gnaws, a smack I find. The flurry of applause that can hijack a mind. Can I keep it going despite the pressure? While blindly ignoring my newly found stressor? All in all, I guess it's worth a try. I'll fall, I'll stall, to Earth, goodbye.

http://samvandek.wordpress.com/category/the-underground-mouthpeace/

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