No Empty Well

Well you can't leave a well empty

the result looks unkempty

yes that rhyme was a stretch

but it will help me to sketch 

an idea that came to me early today-- 

I wonder have I been so long at play

that I might set out to amass and assemble 

a book of my verse that when piled up might tremble,

but would reach up so high 

that it just might resemble 

a poetry book full of verses

that fell from my brain versus

all that negative stuff that surrounded

me at times and almost confounded

yes a book of light verse just might be the thing

'twould be more like using one's brain to rehearse

these little ditties and block that virtual hearse

that feels at times like it's able to block out and bring 

a halt to all joy and delight that arises

from life at its heights--so full of surprises

How Does Your Chicago Go, Is It Awe or Ah?

How does that old "Chicago" really go?
When I was growing up,
and was just a young pup
(which I admit must've been long ago).

On meeting someone new (this might sound dumb)
You might just ask them "where you from?"
Folks named places using the state and the city,
But in some larger than life places they just named the City.

One of those was Chicago--Whitman's city--  
"City of the Big Shoulders,"
Whose fire still smolders.
Whitman spoke to those who sneered at his city
In a way he told them Chicago wanted no pity.

Was a rough place then and still is to this day,
in the midst of it Ness and Capone made their  play...
But back to Chicago that old Indian name
Yes, Native American, but Indian just the same.

Those proud like Whitman had to be
Pronounced it with pride and a sense of awe
That's why It's still "ChicAWgo" to folks like me,
not like they pronounce it on HGTV.

No ChicAHgo for me like those modern day wonders
claiming they're from my city on that show "House Hunters" 
Not "ah" like the start of some thing odd, 
but "awe" as you walk where giants once trod.

That Doggone Emma Dog is Gone

Even today, remembering Emma

Can present to me quite a big dilemma

Like should I be real happy or be very sad

Because I know at times she could be really bad

and I’d even say to her “Wait‘ll I tell your Dad”

Of those bad things she did, I can’t recall very many

And in Emma’s own eyes there probably weren’t any.

She was pretty darn sure that rewarded she should be

And she’d show me that when she headed toward me. 

She would wiggle her whole self across the room

To nose her clumsy way onto my lap

‘Cause she knew I was really that kind of sap

Who would let her stay there and take her nap

She’d push with her nose until I petted

Or licked me so much that I regretted 

Ever letting her get close enough so she netted

Me neatly as a fish when she wagged that tail 

She had some crazy ideas in her head

Like liking the couch better than her bed.

She would also sometimes grab you by the shirt

or wag her tail in your face which could really hurt

At times she’d bark really hard at a stranger

(Which likely fooled some, but they were in no danger)

I know why that’s so, and you too just might

‘cause her bark was mostly worse than her bite

Emma stayed with us until she was quite old

I’ll tell you where she went, if I may be so bold,

Somewhere where it’s almost never cold

And its lots of fun to grow very old

And everyone there will like nothing better

Than stopping by every day just to pet her.

In The Main It's Vain

This collection of verse to me almost looks
Like enough for one of those self-published books.
But someone keeps telling me "No, No No never
I won't live with a self-published author ever!"

Many self-published authors should stay up in the bleachers
Instead of showing up on the field as one of those dreaded creatures
Whose work would embarrass each one of their teachers
And might be condemned by all sorts of preachers.

They make self-published novels or other collections,
Their work often heads in all sorts of directions.
These unpublished authors at times are called indie,
But more often than not are referred to as windy.

Ah, but continue they must, these helpless writers
Oft-times we wish they'd become entertaining providers
Of delight, instead of just being internet schemers.
And we hope for a gem from these impossible dreamers

Most of those stories listing famous self-published writers
like Stephen King, Twain and Poe are passed on by blighters.
Explanations are found if one only digs,
Self-published authors don't make the bigs.

So printing one' own book--while not a sign of insanity--
My guess is more likely a matter of vanity.