It's a Million to one shot this works.

 Anyone who knows 

Nia Vardalos,

Please ask her to send me an email.

I have a movie proposal 

she would be perfect for.

She would be the lead character

in the story, 

Under the Frosting

from the book of the same name.

Thank you

I'll wait here.

zc

 

Reasons and Stuff

 

Babies get carried,

in a kangaroo’s pouch –

Roses have thorns,

so we’d have the word ouch.

Windchimes have tinkles

in a most gentle breeze –

Eyeballs take cover

whenever we sneeze.

At altitudes high,

Lazy Hawks take a nap –

while closer to earth,

busy Crows have to flap.

Poems needn’t rhyme

or have to make sense,

but if it rains while you camp –

don’t ever changes tents.

zc

 

 

Fly Fishing

 

Out running the Grammar Police

 

I have an old Zippo

from back when I smoked –

and a Hula from the dash of my car,

With a buck’s worth of gas

It would sputter and choke –

I never did get very far.

I still have my dog-tags

from back in the day,

My uniform seems to have shrunk –

I never became

all the things I did say,

in coffee - my doughnuts I dunk.

My English is broken

most words are misspelled -

My poetry stinks as you see,

I expect they'll be sirens

with bright flashing lights

when the grammar police come after me.

zc

You know - just in case.

 

The thing is, I ponder all the things I’d like to learn, understanding I could never possibly learn it all.  And I wonder what lies out beyond the margins. I consider myself as possibly an explorer fumbling around the periodic table attempting to understand reality itself.  All the while, of course, seeing the days ticking by.  Each season getting shorter,  leaves and flowers flicker past as if they were in some time-lapse film.  

I can mentally see the world spinning ever so fast, pulling calendar pages off and hurling them into oblivion as it spins.

I ponder humanity, I see people as fragile dreamers, attempting desperately to hold on to their youth, clutching tightly to hope and stretching that hope to the point of slipping pillows into their coffins. 

 

BLT

 

I planted tomatoes,

they are all the rage –

they get plenty of Sun,

right here in their cage.

I grow my own lettuce,

Each green leafy piece –

with thin bacon cooked,

right in it's own grease -

But here in this store,

where each aisle is host –

I see fresh jars of Mayo,

but where is the toast?

zc

 

I call him Bernie Sanders