Little Tony came running
to his Grandpa Billy:
"Grandpa, Grandpa
can you make sounds like a frog?"

And Grandpa Billy said:
"Well, Tony...I reckon I could make
frog sounds if I tried"

"Yes!" shouted Tony, radiating all eagerness
*"That's good. Now we can all
go to Disneyland, just as grandma said,
when you croak."

Dedicated to
dr. B. Dixon, Ph.P (Philosopiae Poeta).*

You, Poet, define yourself as a
"'Meat and Potatoes' -kinda guy."
We were speaking of food
But I see that you eat
With your writing-hand.

You, Poet, write like a
Quitting smoker
That stands with his very last
Smoke in his mouth -lighter
In hand. Frozen; carving a statue
Of the moment. For himself.
From himself. For all to see.

You, Poet, are the wind thrusting
Confidence from under the wings of
Angels, down to assist the
Flapping of little, pen wielding
Ducklings at take-off.
You are a devil of a gentleman; an
Arms open welcomer
In this realm of written renderings.

You, Poet, are an agent of king
Poem Himself.
As convincing and encouraging as a
.357 barrel imprint on your forehead
To remind yourself to keep writing
-Just always keep writing; just
Write.
If you guarded the Gates of Hell,
You'd still give good meaning to
Words like 'Warm Welcome'...

You, Friend, make poets feel
Like the true
Rock Stars of the Universe
That they all
Truly
Are.

INTRODUCTION
someone's following you online here,
and you want to know why
Well, here's why...take your pick


POSSIBILITIES*

1)
Oh, I follow you because you look good
and though I never read your poems
I come back often
year after year
to see if you age at all


2)
you don't use your real name
you use a moniker or pseudonym -
and I'm just  going by the desperate hope
you are Obama or Putin incognito
and you might give me asylum one day
if I'm outlawed by one or the other

3)
I'm in jail for life
and this is the only way I can stalk anyone

4)
I was hoping you'd reciprocate
and follow me too -
so why the hell don't you, hypocrite!?

5)
I'm your ****** boss in disguise
and I'm at this site keeping track
of how much office time you waste here,
you ****** loafer!

6)
I'm actually your wife
and I got a thing or two to say to you
about all those comments
you've written for the women here
Same old liar here and at home, aren't you?
Just wait till you get home...

7)
Well, I'm a ****** academic
who never gets creative
so I'm collecting all your poems
and I'll publish them in my name
and there'll be praise all round for me
as academic, and poet, and novelist too
(the novels I steal from my students)

8)
you scratch my back
I scratch yours

9)
Why do I follow you?* -
but aren't you my mum?
You never taught me
to let go of your apron strings

10)
actually, it was a mistake, see
I was on my smartphone and I went
tap, tap, tap
and my index finger fell on "Follow"
and I'm too darned lazy to set it right...
that's how I ended up following you


11)
My cult tells me
the Messiah is here at this site
so I just follow everyone
in case it happens to be you -
it is you, isn't it?

He felt her
inner thunder,
waves of scarlet
reverberating
in his *****;
deep in the marrow
a pleasant tingling.
"Your sun spoke to me,
his insistence, very pleasant
reached me as waves"
later she coyly
whispered in his ears.

Let go all pretensions,
honestly compare notes
of hearts, the magic happens.
              They created their
big bang on a sprawling bed,
all are echoes, he, she and the rest.
Even the universe that pulsates
within and spreads outwards
as waves.

All the new flowers have gone.
I see flocks of birds flying away,
The waters of blue mountains
Fall, rush and scold, are running
Cold— wind, whispers and goes,
Lonely as a tree without leaves.

I throw a stone
in the water, and
a wave splashes
on the shore elsewhere.

For every stone
we throw is a ripple
effect that can
alter something
near or far.

For every action there
is a reaction, started
by the smallest thing,
and can alter the slightest
thing or change everything
with that one throw.