My Secret Garden
Around my garden I have a fence,
but, if you’re kind, I have a bench
I brought from China that’s made of jade
where we can sip cool lemonade.
Right through there shoots up my fountain,
it’s built to look like a Korean mountain;
my trees are small—they’re Japanese;
my wind chimes waltz with every breeze;
my flowers bloom from spring to fall,
except behind one secret wall
where flowers bloom all year through …
when winter comes, I might show you.
Do come in winter—don’t be afraid!
We’ll sip hot cocoa on my bench of jade!
And when the wall’s topped by the sun,
we’ll see that miracles still are done.
Late, late at night when I’m tucked into bed,
there’s a dream I can’t stop bouncing round my head.
It’s the dream that the thing that will wake me up
is a lick full of love from my own new pup!
I come from far across the sea ...
a land where flowers grow on trees,
where peppermint grows by every gate,
where good things always make you wait.
But now I’m here where flowers grow
inside hot houses in the snow
and peppermint’s dried and used as tea
and good things choose to stay unseen.
But in my dreams I still can see
the flowers blooming in my tree
with peppermint growing all below
as streams of goodness ebb and flow.
Many things are better slow!
Turtles, snails and starfish, too,
can teach me and can teach you
that speed and motion cannot give
the things that people need to live.
What is needed is to know
that many things are better slow …
sipping hot tea at the dawn,
taking naps on grassy lawns,
eating apples to the core,
walking ‘long the seaside shore.
Turtles, snails and starfish say:
“Slow it down! Enjoy the day!”
A ship set sail around the world with a dozen children as crew;
their parents knew that the very best school was to learn from the winds as they blew.
A wind led their ship to a jungle King, a Tiger with a long gray beard,
who told them of secrets that jungle folk knew before any school had appeared.
Just then, a new wind did whistle and blow across their ship’s wide cargo hold;
it called them to sail … this time to the sands of a desert with Camels and gold.
They talked to the Camels and talked to the gold, but only the Camels talked back.
They drew their conclusions, then boarded their ship as a wind blew them towards an ice pack.
A Polar Bear told them of danger and strength and of how he survives freezing cold;
then a wind blew them back to their mountain homeland … On return … all twelve children seemed old!
That ship that sails the winds of the world sets off with children as crew,
but it never returns till years equal miles … Ah, what a fabulous school they’ve been through!
There’s a Bear!
Near the town there’s a bear!
All the mothers are now scared!
He came down from the hills!
Parents say he should be killed!
On the edge of the town
is a circus with a clown--
that old clown saw the bear
and warned him to get far from there.
Fathers, now, are hunting him!
Oh! His future seems so dim!
But the bear is never found--
with the circus, he left town.
Roy G. Biv
You almost can smell the red of a rose;
the orange of an orange can tickle your nose!
The yellow of lemons gives life to gray days;
and tea that is green makes all feel okay!
The blue of the ocean reflects in the sky
where indigo buntings do glide and do fly.
The color of violets is easy to know.
Yes, the colors of rainbows are everywhere grown!
These colors spell out the name of a lad
who used to think that his name was all bad.
But now that he knows what each letter means,
he smiles as he says, “My middle name’s Green!”
“ROY G. BIV, that’s my name!
And what is the meaning of your special name?”
Children of the Sea
There is a land beneath the sea
where children play like Manatees.
Instead of feet, they all have fins;
between their fingers they grow skin.
I’d take you there, but, sad to say,
you would not last a single day.
The kids there breathe with gills, not lungs;
but here’s a secret—they thirst to run!
They peek above the waves at you
and dream of joining games you do.
Their poets write of grassy lands
where kids have lungs and feet and hands!
These things are seen
If cars were balloons … our road’s the sky!
If houses were ships … our home’s the sea!
If problems were birds … they’d fly away!
When courage is known, these things are seen!
(a Thrice Told Tale)
Crying child, in the wild, who left thee alone?
Have no fear, angels near will search for thee a home.
Crying child … There! Be mild … the Tiger in the tree
who lost her cub has some love to nurse and cuddle thee.
“Tiger” boy, full of joy, lived a long, long life;
Tiger mom did her job—she found for him a wife.
Another child in the wild was born to Tiger boy;
but this child could be mild … he was his parents’ joy.
A Fisherman from Hong Kong
A fisherman in Hong Kong
put his shorts and thongs on
and got into his sampan
to leave his crowded island.
He sailed the open waters
out where there are no borders;
he caught a fish and fried it
and found some gold inside it.
He didn’t need the gold piece,
so, threw it to some seaweed.
The seaweed made an island
for the fisherman to live in.
The fisherman from Hong Kong
has his shorts and thongs on
but rarely sails his sampan--
he loves his private island!
It blooms for just one single hour … the lovely Fujian Rose.
All stop their work to gather round to watch her quickly grow!
Her bud stands tall, then magically her beauty fast unfolds.
Then slowly beauty lowers her head as Fujian Rose grows old.
If you’re in Fujian please come see
this magic one night show …
If you do, you’ll ever know
the power of the rose.
Drift to Sleep
On a star that’s only seen from the open ocean,
lives my very special friend who waits for me to motion.
When I wave my arms, he sings a secret melody …
his starlight sea-song comforts me and helps me drift to sleep.
Gretta rises early each morn to bake fine loaves of bread;
her recipe’s secret, it’s not written down, it’s just kept up in her head.
People travel from distant towns in hope of at least a bite.
Her bread is so tasty, soft and warm … but one day it stirred up a fight!
One assertive young woman had come too late—the bread had just run out.
She plaintively snatched a piece from a lad which made the little boy shout!
Gretta emerged from her bakery in time to see the lad
let his foot fly and kick the woman … at that Gretta’s face turned sad.
The young woman took hold of Gretta’s strong arm and led her off to the side;
she said that the bakery just doesn’t produce enough bread to keep folks satisfied.
The assertive young woman suggested a plan to help more folk to get bread;
Gretta agreed to allow her to knead the dough so more people are fed.
Gretta couldn’t foresee what was coming up next—the young woman quickly took charge,
and Gretta’s small bakery grew to a factory that merely could boast that it’s large!
People have gradually completely forgot the taste of the small bakery;
they settle for size and price and speed that churn from such bread factories.
Still, Gretta rises early each dawn and bakes loaves high in the hills
to feed just the mountain men passing her way, and each one can eat till he’s filled.
Green Eggs and Ham
For breakfast all angels eat cinnamon toast,
while champions devour bagels and jam;
the breakfast all children have come to love most
is green eggs when scrambled and served up with ham.
The Mouse in the Forrest
The Mouse in the forest was hanging up his wash
when all of a sudden he was very nearly squashed
by a Fox and her cubs who were, oh so busily,
flying right past his house on the way to karate!
After them came a Rabbit with her dozen baby bunnies; she
was taking them to study how to cook with mountain honey.
Then a goose with her goslings waddled slowly over him--
they were learning from a farmer how to build a solid pen.
The poor mouse got back up and he dusted himself off.
He alone recognized that sweet nature had been lost.
In search of the next rhyme!
My poetry sprouted in China, grew in Siberia and matured in Saudi Arabia.
Remember, don't B Grim!