042822e

Dragon with Fish
(a children's ekphrastic poem)*


Such a fat, friendly stripy dragon,
antennae half its body length,
big feet and a goofy grin,
itty bitty wings—no way she could fly,
but there she is, above the clouds,
frolicking with a winged fish, and one
with a head-mounted propellor;
but the cat with a jet pack
decided not to hang around.

Far below, fields in summer colors,
stripes of green, orange, red, and yellow,
delicious crops, I’m sure,
but I don’t know what they’re growing,
those people who live
in the red-roofed farmhouse.


*Ekphrastic poems are based on works of visual art. This one, by my wife, Sheila Kopaska-Merkel, is a colored-pencil drawing above my desk.)

011322d

Boiled cookies

Recipe found by Sheila Kopaska Merkel

(original source, Headstart recipe collection, Stuart IA, sixties)

Ingredients

1 2/3 cup sugar
one half cup milk
one quarter cup (original recipe only called for 3 tbsp.) cocoa
3 c. quick oatmeal
one half cup peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla
one half cup nuts (small pieces)

Directions

Put first three ingredients in pan, bring to boil for one minute.

Remove from heat, beat in the last four ingredients quickly.

Quickly drop the cookies onto foil or wax paper using spoons before they cool and solidify.

Children love to help with this recipe.

091221b

Priap The seminal island basalt holey extrusions tower above villages, fungiform pillars with apical slits. Circular stone huts huddle like children of red volcanic rain, two to a pillar, the people swim and fish, grow tall. They freeze, legs fuse like atoms, bodies rise and stiffen, wake the island's molten heart, open mouths and spew crimson bombs. Parthenogenetic hatchery soil-boring witchery time-biding gestation, till brats squall forth, gather rocks to build huts at their parent's foot.

082721

Remembering "The Wheel on the School," by Meindert DeJong There was a young stork on a wheel To some this might seem a sweet deal As I spin around My head hits the ground Complained that sore stork on the wheel

122220c

 

burning the comsats

with your empty teen chatter 

you hang up no you

120320d

 

We love this dragon

this knobby jeweled beast

breathing slow wisps

under the flat rock

too small to devour a whole cow

and we’ve never seen it fly

but that’s a wing peeping out

I’m almost sure of it

 

082620c

 

new puppy

wears daughter out

no grandkids for us

051620

Dryad

green

limbs

were not

a problem

her conversation

voiceless, flowed like wind in the trees

her body, smooth and warm, hard but yielding, drew him in

come spring her belly grew, skin shone

her emerald lips

parted, seeds

came, one

by

one

he lets

the yard go

growing up so fast

he sees her everywhere he looks

ranks of her standing tall and strong in the bloom of youth

042420c

First, the children disappeared one by one. Then, cocoons were discovered in their closets. The Smiths cut one open, but it was far too soon, and goo gushed out across the floor. When the rest opened on their own, it was far too late.

042420

untangling the kids
when school lets out
whose head is this

032620

"The Edible Zoo" -- poems for small children, about eating animals. Play-tested on a dozen niecephews. Ages 2-up. Free PDF, just ask.

This is the cover, which is not included in the PDF, but there are interior illustrations, which are included.

102819

In his cups,

Shatner brags he has kids

on a dozen worlds.

Even Nimoy admitted

that was impressive,

but the child support

is astronomical

092119d

When his partner was repossessed, he was left with one male and one female offspring. But he scarcely had time for children, usually renting them out, except for a few Saturday picnics and ball games. Until the nannybot sued for custody. And won. But the sim kids by then were such accurate simulacra, he hardly noticed.

081419b

Peter Piper put up pickled peppers
So many pints of peppers Peter Piper put
If Peter pickled all the gosh darn peppers
Where did Peter Piper all the peppers put?

051219b

Taking it Slow

A finite xenoflora,

in this refuge,

seamlessly recursive;

its fractal beaches

flower in the heat

of eviscerated stars.

Not timeless, this museum,

but expect changes back home

if you get out alive;

I recommend departure

before the big Evaporation,

official warnings almost

drowned in the furious sounds

of rampant vegetation.

It's been long enough:

she had the baby,

her brothers forgot you

or have passed on,

their annoying insistence

that a free spirit like you get hitched

the oldest of old news.

There are other girls,

but this place has no more exhibits

on its horizon,

time to take the tunnel,

which might still connect

this place to spacetime.

But what is this familiar face,

that firm hand on your shoulder,

those cadences reminiscent

of your erstwhile home?

Which short-straw grandchild was sent,

armed with a treasured holo,

to drag you out of this hole

to face the music,

and why?

050919b

puffballs
give birth underfoot
stomp again

050719b

Turning over a rock
exposing to the light
a mass of wriggling grubs
"Children, I'm home!"

050219

rock, paper, scissors
and fusion device
Trump card

020419c

Bo Peep's job in the nursery was short-lived

121718c

13,000 Lost Souls

Torn from their parents
imprisoned by a tyrant
do they ever see the sun?
feel a kind touch?

days turn to months
and where is their Christmas coming from?