My Poetry

Chidren's Book Author, Young Adult Novelist, Adult Fiction Writer, Poet, Musician, Public Speaker

Now let me pause and set aside the evening
drawing a breath to blow the clouds away,
the moon away,
the stars, the earth and the sky away,
‘til all that remains are the trees and the wind

- and your eyes, my love, and mine

With no rain to stain your cheeks
and no moon to clothe your silhouette
only the trees
(to lend their leaves)

and the wind
(to play its song)

- and your eyes, my love, and mine

The Yeah-buts, I-Know-buts, the Can’ts and the Couldn’ts
Are not quite the same as the Oughtn’ts or Shouldn’ts
They lead to I-Didn’t, but could’ve and should’ve
If only the Yeah-buts had let me, I would’ve

One day I decided to try it
I’d been thinking about it so long

By now I was perfectly certain
That it couldn’t be naughty or wrong
I needed to know where it all went
To the sea or a tank in the ground

I took a deep breath, then I jumped in
And I flushed myself all the way down!

I stood in the rain
from morning ’til night.
I started to shrink
and my skin grew tight.

My shoes got flooded;
my fingers, wrinkly.
My arms and legs
were all cold and tingly

My mom said, “Child,
come in out of the rain!
You will catch your death!”

I had to explain
that, at last, I knew
what it’s like to be
a great and wonderful
towering tree.

I remember how it was…
(so like the faceless stirring of an autumn moon carefully making its way through colored leaves to kiss you on the forehead of your drowsy smile)

I remember how it was…
(to touch your softness with my clumsy eyes and hold you in the gaze of my frail-sighted heart as the autumn breeze ran her fingers through my mind)

I remember how it was…
(so long ago, you and I; and time was younger then; love more pure in her stride; and autumn but a child of an early spring’s summer lover)

And I remember how it was…
(that you so soon had forgotten
and love has grown old)
and I, too, have aged into winter.

I wish I had a box of zeros
I’d spend them liberally
I’d share them with my friends and family
Hold nothing back for me

I’d add them to the end of numbers
These useful, helpful nils
I’d add one each to stacks of hundreds
And two to dollar bills

I’d multiply them by the sadness
Which hides in human hearts
Reducing all to fresh new zeros
And hopeful, fresh new starts

For, if I kept my zeros for me
And, kindness failed to show
The world would be a much lesser place
And nothing’s all I’d own

Step lightly, child
the ground is tired
with memory, deep and wide
of every lifetime ever lived,
of every life that's died.

Be silent, child,
for they still hear
our trembling through the ground;
the flick'ring of eternal flames;
each soft and subtle sound.

Be still, my child,
embrace with awe
the truth of every man:
he walks but once upon this earth
and ne'er is seen again.

Wormester Wormerly
and Grumpkin Demure

Were never, assuredly
Certainly sure

Of who, what or wheredly
Either one went

Or, when they were wordy,
What either one meant

But somehow, apparently,
Wormester knew,

(despite her demurring,
the Grumpkin did, too)

that who, what and where
weren’t nearly as fair

as when Grumpkin
and Wormester
both could be there.

If I were the smallest bird
on the highest branch
of the tallest tree,
would you sit with me?
would you sing with me?

If we could see sun and clouds
and the bluest sky
and below us, leaves,
would you stay with me?
spend the day with me?

If life were a pleasant dream,
or a flower, fair,
by rippling stream,
would you dream with me?
dream this dream with me?

“Why is it called Spring?” she asked,
with a certain something in her step.

I’d marry merry Mary, now
If only I were Abel
‘Cause Abel would be able, now
If not for his girl, Mabel
For Mabel had been dating Ben
But Ben was too contrary
And I am so unAbel, now
And Abel’s dating Mabel, now
And Ben is too unstable, now
I guess I’ll stay unMaryed

I didn’t lose my hair
It’s still the same amount, up there
My head just got too large for it
to cover all the bare.

If the blue sky turned green
And the green grass turned blue
Would you walk upside down
And pretend nothing’s new?

Would the flowers be birds
And the trees, thunderclouds
And the forest, a storm
Made of leaves upping down?

Would the sunrise bring night
And the sunset, new day
’Til we made up our minds
Things were normal this way?

I refuse to live
In a world without love
In an ocean of sorrows
Overflowing, thereof

In an age of ungiving
In a time of unknowns
Where a neighbor’s a stranger
Living sadly alone

Where a life has no meaning
And a soul has no worth
But to live in the shadows
From the moment of birth

I refuse and reject it
And so clearly, I see
That to reshape the world
Must begin here with me

I hear the language of the trees
Wooden echoes of creaking words
Leafily lilting on a blossom breeze
I hear the language of the trees

I’ve heard the secrets of the wood
Sung to me from the beaks of birds
I’d gladly share them, if only I could
I’ve heard the secrets of the wood

I’ve seen where shades and shadows dance
To rhythmic chords of fifths and thirds
Exquisitely staged, leaving naught to chance
I’ve seen where shades and shadows dance

In Faerie Fields and Killoughee
Far north of the wild Goughlin Grugh
From the Perigoh to the Great Sault Sea
They all whisper their rhymes to you

I heard it on the telephone
and thought, how curious it is
that “this call may be recorded
for training porpoises.”

I always try to be helpful
and speak as clearly as I can.
I made sounds I was sure that a
porpoise would understand.

The porpoise on the telephone
didn’t seem to understand me.
I guess that I was talking to
a new porpoise trainee.

Speak in silent actions
Cast aside imperfect words
Show me what I need to hear
And let your silence be heard
Love me if your love be true
And love be all I need
Let me only follow you
And you alone shall lead

With infinite everyones, an infinite you
Is uniquely special, this much is true.

Leave the trees, please
Leave the forests
Let the bees be
For the florists
Let the leaves peep
For the tourists
Leave the trees, please
Leave the forests

Keep the seas clean
For the fishes
All that gleams green
All that squishes
All the dreams dreamed
All their wishes
Keep the seas clean
For the fishes

Of all we see
Be not users
Be a trustee
Be a steward
Soon we’ll just need
Less and fewer
Then we’ll all be
Caring doers

O possum, O possum
All dead on de road
What was it done hit you?
Ain’t nobody knowed

Might been a green tractor
Or maybe a car
Whatever done hit you
Done hit you real har’

O possum, O possum
Struck down in de night
I hope d'it was painless
And brought you no fright

I hope dat de headlights
They blinded yo’ eyes
I hope dat de engine
Done muffled your cries

O possum, O possum
All dead on de road
I wished’d dat driver
Had drivered more slow

I fell when I tripped;
when I slid when I slipped;
and I flew when I flipped,
then I landed.

Embarrassed, I stumbled;
I tipped, and I tumbled;
I looked around, humbled
and frantic.

The people around me,
they laughed when they found me.
But, I exclaimed, proudly,
“I meant it!”

If there’s no such place as Away,
it might be a mistake to throw things there.

It’s hard to rip off a paper towel using just one hand.
The same is true of toilet tissue, much more in demand.

I’ve seen attempts that tried and failed.
You know you’ve tried before.

You pulled too fast,
You spun the roll,
It unrolled on the floor.

I slipped on my sock
and my big toe popped out
through a hole in the worn-out wool weave

And, wouldn’t you know it,
I’ve no thread to sew it,
but it makes such a comfortable sleeve.

I drew a dot, and no one noticed it at all.
I drew a circle, and I ended up where I began.
I drew a line, and it went on forever.

Oh, to be
the highest leaf
on the tallest tree.
What dreams my eyes would see.

iKeep my nose inside my phone
iLive within a screen

iWalk through crowded streets, alone
iUsed to laugh and dream

iOnce read books, instead of Nooks
iOnce rejoiced to know

the friends outside my selfie lens
iAm, at last, iPhone

Could it be the trees are pleased

to stand with their toes beside the stream;
to wander the wood in thought and dream;

or, misunderstood, strive to be seen;
just one in a forest of trees?

I tried and I failed
And the world laughed at me.
They all went on laughing,
While I learned to be
A man whose mistakes
Taught him all that he knew.
In a world of mistakes,
That’s what smart people do.

If I were a pirate, sailing the seas
I’d plunder all sadness, take captive disease
I’d steal away anger, I’d steal away pain
I’d steal away hunger again and again
If I were a pirate with ship and a crew
I’d set sail to kindness, inviting you, too.

I can’t find my hair anywhere.
There’s no proof, but my youth,
That I’m telling the truth,

But my head wasn’t always this bare.

Imagine this, if you will…

Borkles kerspiegling in the sands of the sunny moon
Curzlers curzling in the heat of the afternoon
Mortrolls dervigle, when they’re given half a chance
and they’re always pestrelling Borkles by putting pests in their pants

Kerspiegling is done by many Borkles of the moon;
And is similar in style to Pelimackerel’s form of Oon
One small variation sets kerspiegling apart;
Oon is so barbaric, while kerspiegling’s an art

Curzlers will curzle where they’d never be found,
and quickly discurzle when they hear the slightest sound
But it’s usually only a Birdzlesaur or two or three
Hunting Edibilia in the Sea of Tranquility

Mortrolls think they’re free to dervigle where and when they please
But, dervigling has been outlawed since the early ‘70s
So, they simply pestrel Borkles, for pestrellery’s no crime
But, it really is annoying being pestrelled all the time

Mortrolls and Curzlers and kerspiegling Borkles, too
Pestrel, dervigling, Pelimackerel’s form of Oon
Strange that these creatures are parading inside your head
It’s plain to see, and who could deny, you’ve imagined it, like I said

Fish eye view of the undersea world
Reveals criminal acts at hand
Lone shark’s stalking an oyster’s pearl
And makes off with the contraband

Urchins break down the coral reef door
And set the building ablaze
Sea horse gallops the ocean floor
In search of a place to graze

Watercolor paintings hang in the hall
Of the starfish celestial home
Clams are awaiting a little rainfall
To wash them back through the foam

Swordfish challenge each other to duel
But never harbor ill will
Young fish spending their days in school
Learning ‘til they’re filled to the gill

Lazy whale naps on his king-size sea bed
While lobsters avoid the main course
Shark always keeps himself very well fed
But never feels the remorse

Cool blue tide washes over the scene
And chases them all away
Down below the mood is serene
As the sun sets over the bay

Where Woolems wandered, west of Wehrle,
and ambled airy Averlune,
there lived a lovely little girl
with hair of golden June.

She swam the Sault Sea, sun and smile,
while blossom-breezes briskly blew
the Inns of Inidyllique Isle
and glens of Goughlin Grugh.

Fair flowers of the Faerie Fields
she plaited into petalled pearls.
Her youth and yearning yet would yield
a crown for golden curls.

And dancing sweet while dolphins dream
in undulating undertow,
she jumped and jimbled by the stream
where fern and fennel grow.

For, as a minstrel maiden, mild
who told the Tale of Trinket Trove,
she chirped and cheeped, the chatter-child,
through Cor McCrumblin Cove.

Her voice it vaulted down the vale
like kitebirds over Killoughee,
but faint and quiet, over quail
that slept beside the sea.

For rippling ran her rhymes like rain:
a zillion zigzag, zipping words
‘xplored ‘xcitedly, ‘xclaimed
to squirrels and hummingbirds.

Far north of Narrow Nook there run
the horses of the Hyland herds.
And ere the evening ebb is done,
and ere the morning’s stirred,

she’d often, out on Orchard Knoll,
in hazel heather’s golden grain
enfold, embracing every foal,
her face in flowing mane.

And where the Woolems wander, wild
and where the western winds did blow
there sang this wise and wistful child
who made fair wonders grow.

Be me, child
And I’ll be you
Walk a while, child
Inside my shoes

Then you’ll know, child
All I can do
I’ll have learned, child

So much of you.

I crossed an ocean just to see your smile
To sit and listen to your heart a while
To learn your secrets, uncover your mind
To share a whisper, and hold captive time

To finally embrace what my heart desires
And reshape myself in your ageless fires
I crossed an ocean just to be alone
Alone in you in this hidden home

I give to receive it
I say it to hear it
I long just to feel it
and know that it’s true

I look, just to see it
I scarcely conceive it
and yet, I believe it,
the answer is you.

The Wigglewumps, the Gigglethumps
the Squeakysquawks and Bumblers
All went to tea beside the sea
With Mumble-ers and Grumblers

With crumpet cakes and frosted flakes
They drank their tea with honey
And passed the news, and shared their views
Beneath a blue sky, bonny

But soon a storm blew black and warm
The sea did roil and tumble
And through the bay it swept away
The Mumble-ers and Grumblers

The Wigglewumps, they squirmed and jumped
Atop their floating table
While on the rocks the Squeakysquawks
Clung tight as they were able

To save their friends from watery ends
The Bumblers tried to reach them
But, being dim, forgot to swim
So, wind and tide just beached them

Where, on the shore with cakes galore,
The Gigglethumps sat, eating
Without lament, and quite content
They watched the tide receding

Andy never met a something,
a this-or-that, or anything
he didn’t end up turning
into new and int’rest-things.

Unfriend, Unfollow
Unlike, Unshare
Caught unaware
Unknow, the reason
I’m in despair
Somehow, I lost an
Unfriend somewhere.

Together is better than all else I know
It’s better than sunshine, it’s better than snow
It’s better than me and it’s better than you
For when we’re together, we make something new

She walks her twilight through my evening
…moonlight amidst a sweltering sound
The fragrance of impatient silence descends
…a mist of gentle sound

She reaches through the windy darkness
…with long and slender, delicate sighs
And within a fragment of forever
…I capture a glance from her stealing eyes

She whispers tiny, breathless kisses
…that blossom into snowy skies
Eclipsing the moon with crystal breezes
…bidding the fallen leaves, “Arise!”

When did I, in so many cautious words, tell you
through one stormy midnight’s lunar dawning
how beautiful (in a word) and calmly stirring
(to make it three) your eyes repeat the words
your fragile heart has conceived and whispers
them soft and quietly
to me?

Or whenever did I say, in such honesty and truth
as to clothe my very words in warm sincerity,
how your hands (in gentle elegance) hold me
cupped and close to you as a secret
sought by many, known
to few?

And when did I say, through a single crimson rose,
that my love is but a fragrant wind
that brews into a storm
and that words are meant to be left
For being held so close to you
to speak would be to falter
and no cautious words
(however applied)
could find a                        And how
thing to                  (if ever I could)
alter.              could I have ever neglected
            to tell you all these things and
      (doubtless) many, many more?
So now (now so cautiously) I say to you,
my precious one, all the words that I have
never said before.

Thou hast eyes, my love,
(‘Tis no surprise to thee)

But thine eyes, my love,
Are a raging storm at sea

        Black with the might of
        dark thundering skies
        and azure
        (the shade that is only your eyes)

Yes, thou hast eyes, my love,
(You, too, can plainly see)

But thine eyes, my love,
are eyes just for me.

“If I fall asleep now
I’ll get 8 hours of sleep
But first, I have
Episodes that I’d like to see.”

So, I sat, and I gazed
At the screen from my chair
Eating Pringles with cheese dip
And twirling my hair.

Until hours had passed
Just how many, unknown,
But my bedtime and sleep time
Had sure been postponed.

“If I fall asleep now,
I’ll get 2 hours,” I said.
“But tomorrow I’ll feel like
The walking undead.”

So, determined to sleep,
I laid down and I tried,
And I tried and I tried,
As the hours went by.

And I thought to myself,
“If to sleep I could fall,
I would sleep all day long
And tonight, not at all.”

A man, whom I once knew,
had all the best baubles.
He endlessly purchased,
consumed and he gobbled.

He kept on collecting,
he kept on stockpiling
He’d see it, he’d want it,
He’d soon end up buying.

All wrapped up and tangled
in squanderly pretense,
his mind was all dollars,
but not enough sense.

There’s a cat in every room
of my tiny, little house.
There’s no room for dogs, or birds, or fish,
and no room for a mouse.
There is cat fur on the floor below,
and on the floors above.
There’s no room in my house at all
for anything but love.

Poulie and Gaby
and Sunny and Omelet

Sat high on their perch, one day
While, further below,
An interesting show
Played out in the barnyard hay

A kitten had come
Just to lay in the sun
And to watch the brood, above
To keep them all free
From predators’ teeth
For such is a kitten’s love

Seer shilliness
Nutter onsense
Babboonery, Fribbolity
Tomsurdity, Abfoolery
It’s odd to be, Forsuredly
A fly on the wall
Inside of me

I always thought you’d be here with me
I always thought you’d stay
I took for granted time spent with you
And wasted it all away

I never thought death’s hand could touch you
I never thought I’d cry
I knew you couldn’t live forever
But I never thought you’d die

I had so many things to tell you
I had so much to do
And though I know I never said it
I will always love you

Perhaps it is sadness
Rather than coldness
Maybe it’s fear
that keeps her away

Perhaps it’s just too much
Instead of some madness
Maybe it’s best
not to judge her this way

I feel old in my body,
but young in my soul,
and younger still in my dreams.

There’s no D in hippopoTamus
and no I in anonYmous.
There’s a K in unKnown
and the two are synonymous.

It’s not tough to spell stough
by just sloughing off -uff.
Adding o-u-g-h
really is just enuff.

There are times when I’m -able
and times when I’m -ible
but it’s hard to know when.
I guess I’m just unible.

Get in Touch

Chidren's Book Author, Young Adult Novelist, Adult Fiction Writer, Poet, Musician, Public Speaker

  Send Me A Message -

  Join the Mailing List -

Copyright © by Matt Pelicano. Powered by DigitalCloudWare, LLC