by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|My mom says
I have two mothers.
Dad says she’s making fun.
See if you can find her.
And so my curiosity was won.
There she is, mom pointed.
When I looked there, all I saw
Was a bunny rabbit on the run.
Must be magic, my daddy said.
Jumped out of a magicians hat.
Might just as well bet that.
Where my dad pointed
Was at a big tall tree.
It made my mom laugh.
You’re right, she giggled.
Her head wiggled yes.
I got confused, I must confess.
Where on earth, is she?
I wanted to know
Mom said, Right under your toes.
Mother Earth is a mom to us all
She gave birth, feeds and supports us
Without her, we’d be nothing at all.
Dad looked startled and had to agree.
Your mom is smarter than me.
It is why I married her, you see.
Is our second mom’s birthday
When we thank her and say
Thank you, Mother Earth,
For giving us birth
And celebrate her worth.
33 line children's poem celebrating April's Earth Day
No dancing shadows
A summer breath
Of wind caressed
Through open window
My wandering dream sight.
I flew, restless sighs
Carried me aloft
High with inner sight
A new world dawned
No climate change worry,
Under man’s understanding hand.
There was a kind of
Musical political harmony
Joining the parts
Of a disjointed nation together.
Fulfilled wishes replaced fear and longing.
Caring gifts from open hearts
Healed emotional bruises
Forgiving false starts.
Smiles grew on strained faces
Finding homes for those without one.
I wondered at this miracle scene
Surely it only existed in my dream.
When I awoke refreshed
With the image emblazoned, still
Within my head, I shared
The smile left there.
I watched it erase a stranger’s
Distant uneasy frown.
Connection, like a lightbulb
Shone in his eyes.
My dream wish
In the reflection
Bonding our shared awareness.
A simple step
So easy to take
Making the time
With others to relate.
This is how dreams
And wishes become one
A symphony of shared feeling
Creating mankind’s best heart song.
44 line free verse
|My mum named me April. Most kids get theirs from a beloved relative, parent’s favorite idol or other significant feeling like Joy, my new best friend’s first name. I got stuck with April. My parent’s couldn’t think of anything female. I was a surprise birth, supposed to be a boy.
“Why’d you get called, April?” Joy asked, after showing off how she was the joy of her mum’s life.
“I got born on April Fool’s Day, April first. My mum promised me I would carry on my dad’s family name as a lad instead of a lass.” I sighed. How Joy laughed. Nothing I could do about it. I was stuck with it all of my young life.
“They wanted to remember you as a family joke?” Joy giggled, snuffed, bent over holding her heaving tummy. “What do they do on your birthday?” she wanted to know.
That made me feel worse. It was true. My mum and pappa liked practicing April Fool’s jokes every day of the year, but on my special day non-blow out candles where you never got your wish was only the beginning of such things.
Oh, they did it all in good fun. It was either take it and grin or be called the worst thing there ever could be, a spoil sport. Pappa bragged how it was the best kind of training for keeping your wits sharp.
I’d come over to Joy’s house to invite her to my birthday party, looking for reinforcements to cover my back. She wasn’t having any. “I’m not going over there and be made a fool of.” She had the prettiest long locks of golden hair shaking at the thought.
“It is me those practical jokes will be aimed at. You’ll be as safe as if you wore armor,” I implored. “Show me your new party dress, the one made of pink chiffon that feels as light as air.”
That was underhanded, I know. Once she had it on, there was no going back. I’d cut it close on purpose with party time coming on. “You better be right,” Joy spoke to me in her mirror. “Anything happen to this dress and I’ll be wearing rags.”
We live next door to each other. The weather was a delightful springy day. She walked as if on parade. I held the present she’d bought for me, feeling it, figuring out what it might be. “Go ahead, Joy. You are my guest of honor. You go in first.”
My front door was already slightly open. A chorus of Happy Birthday beckoned us in at the sound of our voices. Joy’s voice joined the happy throng. As she pushed inside, a bucket of rainbow tinted water lost balance, turned upside down, spilling all over her head. Pappa shouted out with glee, “You certainly made a big splash, April, darling.”
Joy’s drenched springy curls lay plastered across her eyes. She gasped, shuddered, slipped, plunged forward, face landing in my birthday cake. “Oops,” mama said, “You forgot to make a wish.”
“My lovely dress.” Joy’s cry of consternation and my anguished reply brought their eyes from her to me.
“Joke’s on you. I guess it backfired,” I told pa.
There was a lot of commotion getting in the way of settling things down. “I want to go home,” Joy wailed, rubbing sticky chocolate frosting into her eyes.
I became her seeing eye dog, leading the way, shooting daggers back at my family for destroying the best friend I’d ever had in my life. “I’m so sorry, Joy. I wish there was something I could do to make things better. Will you ever speak to me again?”
“For one thing, help me out of this dress. It doesn’t fit so good,” she began wiggling at it as soon as we got back inside her house.
“I’ll spend every penny I earn until I can buy you a new one.” This knowing it was one of a kind. I’d never seen anything like it.
A strange gleam and whisper of a smile appeared as Joy’s washcloth revealed her face. She licked at a spot of chocolate and grinned. “This old thing? It’s a hand-me-down. Tricked you didn’t I?”
“You did this all on purpose?” My jaw dropped to her floor.
“Your family deserved a lesson. An April Fools joke double whammy is what I came up with.” She patted her golden curls dry. “Got you and them, too,” she laughed out loud, pointing at my image in her mirror where this had all begun. “Our secret right? We’ll play the joke as long as we can.”
That spring and summer was the best one of my life. Free tickets to the movies whenever I wanted them, going out to eat became second nature, sleepovers happened without having to ask.
The best part of all was no more practical jokes. Peace was made with Joy and me by agreeing to a new contract with a new way of doing things. April (me) would no longer have April Fools jokes on my April 1st birthday or anytime else.
At first it was a struggle for mum and pappa. It took getting into the new habit of doing secret thoughtful 'Pay It Forward' gifts before their new lives were satisfied. Joy's practical joke was the best and biggest teaching experience of all.
I guess, in a way, pappa thinking practical jokes were a good learning tool, could actually turn out all right. And for once, I hadn't minded becoming an April Fool.
Entry in the "SENIOR CENTER FORUM" April contest. Note. My birthday is April 6th. I bumped the date up a little and did a gender change just for this month's contest. The privilege of being a writer.
|“There’s a problem with the product.” Sully Moore refused to budge.
“It works, doesn’t it?” Lead scientist, Harry Evans, pointed to the animal cages. The evidence was in plain sight. The current test session revealed the metamorphosis of an old rat on an examination table learning new tricks.
The two researchers watched in awe. The thing had been brutalized beyond belief, surgically cut and spread open, it lay barely moving ready for death. Electrical probes attached inside and out recorded what happened next.
“Rats rarely live longer than two years. This one is on its last legs. I personally raised it from a pup.” Harry Evans flipped a switch. A pearl drop of moisture wept from the end of a needle plunged into the rat’s viscera.
“It works too well,” Sully Moore rocked on his heels, fasciation in his gaze.
“Physician, heal thyself,” Harry Evans prayed aloud.
Wounds healed before their eyes. The rat twitched. Recording probes popped out. A vibrant animal, glowing with health, blinked its black beady eyes, squeaked, and appeared to grow younger stil.
“Watch,” Harry Evans said. A cleaver in hand raised and lowered, cutting the rat in two. Both severed ends jumped, wiggled back together, even to the smallest evidence of lost blood and guts. “Voila. We have conquered death.”
“The problem remains,” Sully Moore lifted the traumatized creature up. He wore thick padded gloves woven with armor to prevent savagely intended bites reaching skin. The rat thrashed, long teeth hunting revenge against nimble fingers. “We can’t hide it any longer. Subjects never stop growing younger until they turn into orgismic glue at conception to die before they are born.”
“It is why I brought you in.” Harry Evans produced a shiny new syringe and needle. “While your section worked on our ‘Fountain of Youth’, I’ve been working on a stasis binder. I can stop the residual effect at any time.”
He triumphantly speared the rat’s midsection and emptied the plunger. The rat shuddered into immobility, curled up and slept. Harry Evans plucked the animal up by its tail to drop the thing back into a cage. “What do you think of that? Twice the money for twice the product. Results guaranteed.”
“You’ve started shipping haven’t you?” Sully Moore prodded. “To specialized old and diseased customers chronically ill, who are willing to take the risk. No questions asked, privately funding your work under the table. I’ve heard hints and rumors too horrible to be believed.”
The first uneasy glance was shared between the two researchers. “A few. Just enough to keep things going. “It is why I called you in. Adjustments need to be made, only you can provide,” Harry Evans said.
“No way, if what i’ve heard is true. What you are doing is not only unethical, it is pure torture to those you treat. Their bodies memorize what they’ve gone through. Hiccups occur. Flashbacks. Their moments of near death spontaneously lived all over again.” Sully Moore’s eyes strayed from the rat, cleaving itself into two aging separate parts only to reform back together to grow younger.
The gun appearing in Harry Evans’ hand barked. Pain flared into unbelievable agony in Sully Moore’s chest. The scalpel in his hand thrust and carved itself against the head researcher’s throat.
“Can’t have that.” Edward Marker, Project business partner stood over two hospital beds, regarding the patients. “Too much stress. Time to get back to work again, boys.”
Revolving cameras placed in each project room were replicated in this one. “Good thing I took necessary precautions. My aides, watching you, shot you up before you passed away. Now, you’ll be personally motivated to figure out how to remove that awkward glitch.”
Harry Evan’s gulped, feeling the scalpel sear through his throat, making it impossible to swallow. A moment later he was whole. Sully Moore felt his heart stop where the impact of a bullet had initially made way. The blackness of death gave way to reconstituted perfect youthful vigor. He massaged his chest with the realization, anytime he felt stress this might happen again.
“Mother nature’s perfect revenge is sweet, is it not? Better get busy, boys. Jesus Christ.” Edward Marker hated the public exposure he went through of his mistress poisoning him into rictus for two-timing her, and leaving him for dead before his aides got to him in the nick of time. It never got any easier resurrecting himself.
He wondered, not for the first time, at the bible’s reference of the dear Lord and Savior showing the holes in his hands from hanging on the cross to his disciples. So, was this what it felt like when he took upon himself the pains of the world, doing away with death.
Scientific evidence was hard to take. Becoming God like wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
|Harlequins, court jesters,
Groomed from birth
Each one of us all
Safe behind masks
Barbed wit is a faceless
Echo from tongue to tongue
Worshiping the unholy crown
Lashing our desperate desire
To look better than who we are
9 line free verse April entry into the 'Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest
|Earth Day, 18 line poem for the 'Writing 4 Kids Contest
Did you know we come from two mothers?
Or haven’t you heard the word?
We all have the same mom,
Her name is Mother Earth.
To every one of us, she is the one
Who has given us our birth.
We are made from what she gives us,
Each meal where we find its worth.
The plants that grow and feed us,
Each of us come from the same dirt.
All that Mother Earth asks
Is that we help her instead of hurt.
Pick up before we toss away
And go about our play.
Such a little thing is all she asks
For us to bring to each day.
Please do, if not for me, for you,
It is the best way we’ll be here to stay.