children's book

Children's Poetry For My New Book - 12 From Memory Lane (Currently seeking a publisher)

This is a collection of poetry that I wrote for a children's book years ago. I partnered with a great illustrator, Linda Pigman who created the pen and ink illustrations.The book will be similar in format to Shel Silverstein's, "Where the Sidewalk Ends". Each poem contains a kernel of a childhood memory. I am currently seeking a publisher for this book. If you know of anyone who may be interested please let me know, the art is done as well.

The Mean Lady On The Porch

She’s so old and mean, she sits and stares watching us with her icy glare

Is she mad at us for bouncing a ball Or is it because we’re four feet tall?

Does she frown at us girls and boys ‘cause we make far too much noise?

Sean says she’s just plain mean and so does Matt They said if she smiled, her face would crack!

Tanya told the story and Chris approved Of how the lady once had her smiler removed!

This all seemed so silly, I thought to myself As I put the ball back on the shelf

There was a flower in the yard I picked it, sighed and swallowed hard

And walked up to her, saying with a smile Hi, I’ve lived next door for quite a while

I’m glad I’m your neighbor and just want to say hi then a tear streamed down from her eye

After we talked a while I saw she wasn’t mean Sometimes people aren’t what they seem!

Red Rubber Ball

How I wish I could be a red rubber ball Ben could bounce me, then I’d be tall!

Curt could kick me and have lots of fun I’d roll along faster than people could run!

Brooke would dribble me ‘til I got dizzy During recess is when I would be busy!

It all sounds like more fun than one boy can take Besides, a red rubber ball can’t eat chocolate cake!

Secret Playground

Tucked away where no one can find it, it’s our own space my playground, your playground, our own special place.

Grown-ups can’t find it ‘cause they’ve forgotten the way Most of them think work’s more important than play

Me, I’ll keep coming here to slide down the slide Whoosh we race down as we giggle inside

My stomach gets queasy as we teeter and totter If I could only explain to my mother and father

How much fun can be had on one simple swing It sparks my mind to imagine incredible things

While climbing on top of the huge monkey bars I pretend I’m a spaceship floating high in the stars

Let’s never forget the way to our own special places that once painted bright smiles on our tiny faces.

Wake Up Juice

Six o’clock in the morning is way too early I’d rather sleep one more hour and have to hurry

My eyelids are droopy, the world is all fuzzy The sun isn’t even up but the alarm clock’s buzzing!

I’d be loose as a moose, or is it a goose? If I could just have one sip of wake up juice

The dark brown juice that fills dad’s cup, Its aroma fills the air as the steam floats up

It wakes dad up fast and makes him alert But he says I can’t have it cause I’m just a squirt.

The First Snowflake

The sun hangs high in the morning sky In the cooling air the first snowflake flies It flutters down for all to see and gets lost among the fallen leaves

it’s not long before his friends arrive more tiny flakes from Autumn skies

like diamonds shining pure and bright they glitter in the morning light

the air grows brutally frigid as North winds blow and the leaves get lost beneath the snow

if all is well and all is right and this continues through the night

we’ll dash for the door, mittens in hand to begin this Winter’s first SNOWMAN!

Snuggle Monkey

When I’m feeling down, in need of a hug When the world has no sympathy, he’s never smug

I just call his name and he’ll be right there he’s much hipper than some stuffed bear!

He doesn’t like bananas or swinging from trees Brussels sprouts, gingerbread, spiders or fleas

Just put on some music and watch him get funky He’s the one and only snuggle monkey

He’ll break into song whenever he pleases And likes to say, “Bless you” when anyone sneezes

He never makes a mess, or gets me in trouble I’m so very glad I have a monkey to snuggle!

A Fat Cat For A Hat

As Tammy lay down to go to sleep She cracked her book, sipped her tea And smiled as she looked at me She had a fat cat for a hat

You see, after she lay down in her bed a fat cat wrapped himself around her head and got himself warm while she read She had a fat cat for a hat!

her auburn hair was nice and soft as he snuggled in and drifted off on the nightstand her book was tossed she fell asleep with a fat cat for a hat!

Bookloft

There’s a wonderful place with rooms to roam thirty-two to be exact and each feels like home it's the Bookloft, nestled in the Village

Be careful, for if you lose your way You may wander lost for many days and read about everything from pies to plays in the Bookloft, nestled in the Village

Follow red brick streets and you’ll be there have the courage to go where not many dare Start the journey of knowledge and lose your cares in the Bookloft, nestled in the Village.

Shy Sly

Shy sly was so shy that he would close his eyes whenever he saw a stranger

but shy Sly, the poor guy feel into a hole, why? he never did see the danger.

Edgar’s Bike Shop

Whether it’s a big red bicycle with a old rusty chain Or a small tricycle that clickity-clacks like a train

Before you give up and throw it away, ask Edgar to fix it, he does everyday

Ask any kid on the block and they’ll tell you the way there’s no sign out front and he’s not open everyday

If you’re lucky Edgar will be in his garage with jumpsuit and wrench Leaning over a bent up old bike clamped to a green wooden bench

There’s no wheel that’s too crooked or flat tire he can’t seal If he’s in a good mood you’ll get a great deal

handlebars will be fixed for a few jellybeans chocolate bars will get you miraculous things

most days he’s quiet grumpy to tell you the truth but his mood is improved right through his sweet tooth.

The Barber’s Secret

Barbers now for many years, instead of cutting hair, have lowered ears

once you’d see a pile of hair on the floor but no you won’t see that anymore

they’ll tap the end of your ear with a comb quietly mumble their magic barber’s poem

and quickly each ear slides down an inch so fast it makes fooling you a cinch

Barbers now for many years, Instead of cutting hair, have lowered ears