My trusty pillow
There for me
When I am weary
Induces sleep quickly
Supports me while dreaming
Helps me wake up fresh
Witnessing good and bad
Listens to my whispers
Soaks up my sadness tears
Crumpled by laughter
Guards my secrets
Never complains
Never judges
No gossiping with other pillows
Always there
Waiting patiently
My nocturnal friend
My trusty pillow
Success is not a destination, it’s a journey
Pink flowers
Pink champagne
Drink pink
Pink lady
Pink underwear
Tickled pink
Perfectly pink
Blink pink
Pink flamingo
Pink wings
Pink pony
Pink up
Pink paradise
Pink vibes
Pink season
Pink dreams
Wear pink
Pink bling
Pink attitude
Pink emotions
Pink talk
Pink whispers
Pink pillows
Pink Sheets
Pink music
Pretty pink
Pink style
Pink dress
Pink lips
Hot pink
Pink heart
Pink kisses
Pink love
Pink prose
Pink dipped
Pink immersed
Pink avalanche
Pink explosion
Pink everything
Think pink
Pink pink
They say all things come to those who wait
Well that is certainly true if you are just waiting around to die
Who wants to wait forever to make your dreams come true
Make your five year plan and set some intermediate goals
Spend time every day working on some of the goals
Update your five year plan at least annually
Set time aside every day to reflect on your achievements
Enjoy where you are now and reward yourself with some daily me time
Forgive yourself for all your mistakes and missed opportunities
Keep your eyes and your heart wide open for new opportunities
Dream big, dream often but never stop dreaming
Do not be afraid to tear up your five year plan and make a new one
Great things come to those who steadily work towards making it happen
John Cavendish was driving to town
he worked for the owner of a large estate
he enjoyed the hour long journey along isolated roads
he sang to himself to pass the time away
as he rounded a bend he saw a huge stag in the road ahead
he slowed down expecting the big beast to run away
but the stag stood his ground
john stopped a few feet from the massive creature
he noticed something white on his antlers
John stepped out of his Land Rover to take a closer look
the stag lowered his head offering John the handkerchief
he quickly untied it and read the note inside
I fell from my horse and injured my ankle
my horse did not survive the fall
I am three miles west of the road to Larog
half a mile north of the river Coyne
it was signed and dated by Heather McDonnell
John knew he had to act fast
if he drove to town to raise the alarm
it would be too dark for a rescue team to find her
the stag ran away while John was reading the note
it was summer and the river was running low
John figured he could drive off-road next to the river bed
he drove as fast as he could along the rocky path
after a few miles he saw the Stag up ahead
he knew this was the place to head north on foot
he found Heather asleep next to her fallen horse
she was strangely calm when he woke her
he picked her up and carried her
she wrapped her arms around his neck
whispering into his ear
please tell nobody about the stag
The ultimate tribute to the artist
Campbells soup and Coca Cola for lunch
At the Andy Warhol museum in Pittsburgh
In the golden light of summer
A shimmering army emerges
Iridescent armor glinting on delicate leaves
like jewels scattered in the garden
Japanese beetles with their lustrous backs
Green and copper buttons dance between petals
A rustling whisper of wings
Ambassadors of the season
Yet unwelcome guests at the banquet of blooms.
They feast on our roses rapidly devouring petals,
Leaving skeletons of beauty
A carnival of excessive consumption
Their laughter echoing
In the soft sigh of the breeze
As they twirl and tumble
Oblivious to the gardener’s frown
In their short-lived revelry
They embody the fleeting reminder
Of the balance between life and decay
The damage to our roses is extensive
War has hereby been declared
We gathered repellent sprays and traps as ammunition
Let battle commence
Sometimes the simple things in life are the best
Put a slice of fresh bread in the toaster
Spread some real butter on the hot toast
Devour it as the butter starts to melt
Its nowhere near as good when the bread is old
Burnt toast is a carbonized carcinogenic catastrophe
Fake butter cannot hold a candle to the genuine article
You can never melt butter on stone cold toast
The English are obsessed with making tea correctly
The ritual includes pre-warming the teapot
They brew it for the precise time before pouring
It tastes so much better in a nice china cup
Inexperienced tea makers can easily ruin their drink
Over brewed tea tastes stewed and bitter
Forget to strain the leaves and you will be drinking tea soup
Tepid tea tastes sickly and cannot be resurrected by reheating
With practice you can learn to make a perfect tea and toast combination
Bite into a crunchy slice of warm toast and taste that creamy butter
Then take a sip of hot tea and pause..repeat….pause…repeat
Now pour a cup of tea for the angel who just appeared beside you
I probably don’t give my fridge enough credit
He doesn’t just keep my food fresh
He is actually a true friend
Always there for me whatever my mood
I love the way my fridge greets me
He lights up every time I open his door
Reliable dependable and comforting
Thats the best kind of friend
My fridge is never judgmental
Never complains when my leftovers go bad
Never scorns me for eating too much
No roll of his eyes when I take a fourth beer
We hang out sometimes at three in the morning
A cold drink is my insomnia reward
He never complains that I woke him up early
We chat for a while then both go back to sleep
He does not talk to me at breakfast time
Knowing that I like quiet in the mornings
Silently handing me fruit and juices
He patiently waits for me to come alive
I wrench open his door at lunchtime
I am starving so whatcha got for me I yell
He offers me cooked meats and cheese for a sandwich
Asks me how my day is going as I wolf it down
He suggests steaks would be good for dinner
Guarding all my favorite sauces in his door
Offers me a cold beer to drink at the grill
Tells me to save room for a yummy cake he kept for me
When I entertain guests he is very discrete
Don’t serve that crappy white wine he whispers
They will love this fabulous goat cheese he says with a wink
My fridge is my best friend
its early
Very quiet
sunday morning
still air
calm waters
light ripples
rising sun
long shadows
birds singing
short walk
the marsh
observe it
then bond
with nature
breathe deep
be alone
listen intently
hear thoughts
contemplate it
hesitate more
Meditate again
Savor it
Before the
World wakes
Up today
Cheeky Monkey Poetry 