earl catton

In the town of Frownupon, Across the Sea of Sorrow, Live the men and women Who always fret tomorrow. “It will rain, and then will flood!” You’ll hear them in the streets, Counting our their weariness In lonely, sheepish bleats. The sun will shine but they will say, “Tomorrow it will storm, We better take some aspirin,” As they walk around forlorn. The oddest thing about this place, It never has had rain, And never does the sun not shine And yet they all complain. In the town of Laughalot, Across the Sea of Joy, Live the men and women, The kindest to employ. They have the hearts of children, In their venturing about, But never is there sunshine And never do they pout. It’s rained for years and always floods, Yet in this upturned town, You’ll find they fish and puddle jump While singing sprightly sounds. For those who live in Laughalot Have figured something out, Circumstance does not require That one must always frout.

The other day I spun a globe And wondered of those down below And how they drive their cars around When they’re always upside down

Recess at the grammer school swinging on the swings when I felt a kind of tingle and out my back grew wings! So I let go of the chains and let my bottom rise then the next thing I knew I was flying in the sky The playground aids grew frantic at this unusual display As someone yelled, “Get back here, you may not fly away.” So I tried to do a loop-do-loop before all my friends and noticed a photographer with telephoto lens. I saw the headlines in my mind as I jackknifed in the air: Child With Wings it would say, I’d be a millionaire. I’d buy every LEGO set, three or four go-carts a hundred brand new pogo sticks, a horse I’d name Dart. I’d never have to take the bus or eat brocolli again for I had wings and I could fly away on a whim. Then I heard the school bell ring— my eyes came from their daze, I was but a child again bound to wingless ways.

Charlie was a flea of a very low degree who hopped upon the rump of a rat. He rode across the sea to the shores of Italy – to see what he could see off the ship. The gutters were a-flutter, every rat and her brother, had come for the journey of their life. It was 1347, and the fleas grew as leaven – riding rodent carriages to town. How small a little flea, who could have seen all the trouble such as Charlie could infest. Yet at times it’s the small, who conquer all by sending their plagues to our shore. Like that boy in gym who has a pointed chin and laughing made a jest about your ears. Or the girl on your block who once threw a rock and broke your friendship like glass. Such are the ways of our times and days the nuisance of bullies and pests. But do not fear for the days though appear to be bottomless with pain— All the bullies and fleas and plagues you see will one day simple digress. For Charlie the flea got hungry you see and never could manage to fill – Like a bully, this pest, finally did rest and couldn’t even hurt a flea. So the moral my friends, here’s how it ends Whatever plague you suffer and bear— Remember the fleas are but fleas if you please and your charlies a pest at the best.

Have you ever never sometimes been flying in a dream across a lake of jelly when you hear a distant scream? Could it be a monster – or the echo of your voice? And being never sometimes you have to make a choice! Do you fly toward the trouble, be it theirs or be it yours, encountering the terrible never sometimes of a horror? That’s the way of dreaming as I have realized – when waking in a pool of drool while adjusting my eyes— Of all the never sometimes that I have lived to see it’s The Never Sometimes monster who always frightens me. So now when I go dreaming adventuring for miles – I carry both my waking eyes in my travel vials. So if The Never Sometimes should ever rise and roar and try to eat me for a treat I’ll drop my vials on the floor. And my eyeballs will be rolling around his feet and there will see that I am but dreaming The Never Sometimes eating me.

by Lewis Carroll How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail, And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale! How cheerfully he seems to grin! How neatly spread his claws, And welcomes little fishes in With gently smiling jaws!

The opposite of love is evol.

by Yosa Buson A tethered horse, snow in both stirrups. ~~~ That snail - one long horn, one short, what's on his mind?

Tracy had a tri-cycle, She fashioned from an icicle, But when she went to ride it, The sun did quickly hide it!

~ Anonymous I know a funny little man, As quiet as a mouse, Who does the mischief that is done In everybody's house! There's no one ever sees his face, And yet we all agree That every plate we break was cracked By Mr. Nobody. 'Tis he who always tears our books, Who leaves the door ajar, He pulls the buttons from our shirts, And scatters pins afar; That squeaking door will always squeak, For, don't you see, We leave the oiling to be done By Mr. Nobody. The finger marks the open door By none of us are made; We never leave the blinds unclosed, To let the curtains fade. The ink we never spill; the boots That lying round you see Are not our boots - they all belong To Mr. Nobody.

by Dorothy Aldis I'm hiding, I'm hiding, And no one knows where; For all they can see is my Toes and my hair. And I just heard my father Say to my mother - "But, darling, he must be Somewhere or other; Have you looked in the inkwell?" And Mother said, "Where?" "In the INKWELL?" said Father. But I was not there. Then "Wait!" cried my mother - "I think that I see Him under the carpet." But It was not me. "Inside the mirror's A pretty good place," Said Father and looked, but saw Only his face. "We've hunted," sighed Mother, "As hard as we could And I AM so afraid that we've Lost him for good." Then I laughed out aloud And I wiggled my toes And Father said - "Look, dear, I wonder if those Toes could be Benny's? There are ten of them, see?" And they WERE so surprised to find Out it was me!

Here I am inside it looking there upon it

~anonymous Do you carrot all for me? My heart beets for you, With your turnip nose, And your radish face, You are a peach. If we cantaloupe, Lettuce marry; Weed make a swell pear.

My brother studies wind and weather in his science class he said they have a weather feather that tells them if the wind is fast I wonder whether the weather feather would tell me if my sneeze is as powerful as thunder weather or just a springly breeze

by Hilaire Belloc When people call this beast to mind, They marvel more and more At such a little tail behind, So large trunk before.

by Robert Louis Stevenson