earl catton

The Tale Of Two Towns

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 Globe

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

Swings

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.

Horrible, Deplorable Charlie The Flea

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.

Never Sometimes

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.

The Crocodile

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!

A Valentine

The opposite
of love is evol.

Two Haiku

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

Tracy's Tri-cycle

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

Mr. Nobody

~ 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.