A Jumping Bean

A jumping bean:

It has no spleen,

Nor heart, nor lungs, nor throat.

But jump it does.

Why? Just because.

Don't let it get your goat.

A simple thing

Within the fling

Of life that's so amusing.

And so it goes,

Amongst the throes

Of this world, so confusing.

Little Jackie Finnigan

Little Jackie Finnigan loved to run and play,

up and down the mansion halls, just always in the way

of heads of state, of honored guests; and never did she halt

to say hello as room by room across the halls she'd vault.

Little Jackie Finnigan loved her family:

Her father, last great governor of such a fine city;

Her brother, the explorer, venturing beyond each bend;

And lastly, Adii Quinntoughin, her best and closest friend.

Little Jackie Finnigan, blessed, yet still so sweet,

Spent her summers walking through the city in bare feet,

Spreading laughs to young and old, while at her father's side,

Always keen to keep ahead, despite her meager stride.

And little Jackie Finnigan grew and grew until

the day she turned thirteen, when time, itself, for her, stood still...

She cried over her father's form, his blood caked in his beard,

And there before two hundred eyes, Little Jackie disappeared...

Jello with Fruit Haiku

Floating, stuck in time,

Immersed in a grave of sorts.

Its flavors not right.

A Serious Poem, #1: Is there a Heaven?

Is there a Heaven, a place in the sky,

A paradise waiting for us when we die?

A someplace far better than where we are now?

Where Good is the who, what, where, when, and the how?

If there is not, then what are we doing?

Trying to forget the days we are rueing?

Living for nothing, then going nowhere.

Just one more small voice getting lost in the air.

I just can't imagine that this here is it,

A place with no reason to live or to quit.

There has to be more, something that explains

Why beauty is wind-blown grassy white plains.

Or thin veil clouds hiding dazzling sky.

Or winds of assurance to wipe my damp eye.

Or freshness in scents that tickle my nose.

Or friendship, constant, though it comes and it goes.

It's beauty in ugly that makes no good sense

In this broken world where we long for past tense.

It's things often looked at but often unseen.

That give us a hint of a world not unclean.

And love. What is that? How came it to be?

That sickness, that goodness that bubbles in me;

That longing to share, that drive to do good;

That need of a touch, the hope that I could.

So I am convinced, there's more than we see.

A Good place of immortal community.

It's somewhere I can't see, but I can perceive.

And all just because I once chose to believe.

New Years Resolution

A difficult decision was my New Years Resolution.

But now I stand, firm in my choice, with solid constitution.

Success is sure, I have no doubt, no fear of retribution.

My goal, my friends, is simply this: to eat but one Fig Newton.

The Hinklewatt Berry

The Hinklewatt Berry grows high in a tree

Way up in the mountains of Bangeladee.

Its blossom is rare, quite a sight to behold,

A beauty seen only by travelers bold.

For just once a year does it give off its fruit,

Which tastes a bit like an old moth-eaten suit.

What good can there be from a taste so off-putting?

It's great, so they say, for a chimney de-sooting.

Classic Poem #3: What Christmas is Not

In times such as these, full of holiday cheer,

A jolly old man and eight tiny reindeer,

It's best to remember what Christmas is not,

Lest we forget to remember what it is we forgot..

With thousands of twinkling lights all around,

With trees in the houses and snow on the ground,

With specials on TV and eggnog for all,

We're swept up in joy from the first day of Fall.

The closets all packed with presents on the shelves,

The lawns decorated with miniature elves,

The fireplace crackling with chestnuts and such,

All fill us with glee, quite lots and quite much.

But please, if you will, do remember one thing,

One thing very 'portant, one thing I do sing;

This season is nice, it fills us with bliss,

But if Christ hadn't come, it wouldn't exist.

So do not forget, in the midst of this fuss,

Who came down to earth and gave us Christmas.

Give props to the Lord for his Son he done sent,

And stock up on cookies, for quite soon, 'twill be Lent.