From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Saturday, 28 May 2011

Lake Dream

The lake is dreaming of the sky and waking at the shore.
Pretending that the fish are clouds above its muddy floor.
The cloud is like a dragon in the blue blue sky,
Like a lazy dragon rising o’er the green tree line.
The dragonflies are golden and blue blue green,
The dragonflies are golden on the green green leaves.
The wind chimes are chiming in the sun-beam breeze
And the stones are cool and patient in a water-lapping ease.

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