Hero
you hear nothing
but your beating heart
and the swish of air
the ball arcs
you leap…
and the crowd roars!
Pete's Poetry
It always begins
with a fly
already swallowed
Not A Clue
Why did she swallow the fly anyway?
Where is this woman?
Trapped in an endless song
Strangled by the shoehorn of our dreams
into an insane tune
a rotating door of death
with no hope of escape
no time to rest
no time to mourn
It always begins
with a fly
already swallowed
never a spider
or a cat
or a horse
she wouldn't start with a horse
Stop the madness
Break the chain . . .
I know this woman
I went to camp with her
she sat right there by the bonfire next to Johnny
Now there's a man
His story isn't in apple trees
it's travels and experiences
"The people he meets
when he walks down the street . . . "
Yon Yonson was the true traveler
not in miles or distances or even places seen
His journey took him within the simplicity of things
the discovery of truth
". . . They say ‘Hi! What's your name?’
and I say ‘My name is Yon Yonson
I work in Wisconsin
I work in a lumber mill there . . ."
Teddy's Camp
With mom’s goodbye, the tears flow.
A hug, a wave… it’s time to go
Teddy gets on the bus to start
off for camp, sad to part.
The bus lets out on a field of green.
A flock of faces, strange and new.
Teddy sees a sea of smiles
from counselors done up in happy styles.
Teddy meets his cabin companions:
Ben and Ken and Will and Damien.
Find a bunk, get settled in
with the all the bears of cabin seven.
Down to the waterfront with the crew,
Teddy takes a swim in blue.
Climb back out, then jump back in…
The dock a rockin’ from all the splashin’ .
Venturing out to explore the wood,
climbing the biggest tree he could.
Teddy views things far and near.
The top of nature, green and clear.
The surrounding world abuzz with the sighs
of bustling leaves and floating dragonflies.
The lunch bell clangs, a table full of food,
To feed body, mind and spirit’s mood.
Then for a nap on grassy hill,
Teddy lay back to dream his fill.
Out the trail for riding fun,
Teddy gets on horseback to run
around the ranch into the sun.
Making tracks, gallum gallum.
Teddy spends the afternoon sailing
with the wind at his back, ever trailing.
Then on to arts and crafts to make
tie-dye t-shirts for color’s sake.
The bears rush off to take canoes...
A race across the lake in twos.
Teddy’s team silver sleek, cut the waves paddles dipping.
Woo Hoo! They shout, in rhythms wake. Through the water the craft zipping.
“Hey ho, nobody home…”
Campfire’s call, from the darkness come.
“The day is done, gone the sun…”
The friends are made, the stories sung.
The busses come, homeward bound.
Some sad goodbyes, hugs around.
Ready to rest, home to sleep sound.
Teddy’s journey of friendship found.
Smiling a welcome like sunshine raining,
Mom has come to the bus stop waiting.
A welcome home, a bright beginning,
Teddy telling about his trip, grinning.
Excerpt From: “Teddy’s Camp” by Peter Liptak
Teddy takes a ride in red.
Woo-Hoo! What fun! He said.
Teddy’s Day
A happy set of sunbeams smile in
Through the window, the sun risen.
Teddy’s eyes begin to brighten,
All set to take the day’s sights in.
Breakfast ready, time to eat,
but can bearly stay in my seat.
Teddy’s dreams of the day to come...
If fun doesn’t find us, we’ll make some.
Teddy takes a ride in red.
Woo-Hoo! What fun! He said.
Feel the wind, see the scene.
The day’s dream... What does it mean?
A hunt among the reeds reveals
a line of ants looking for their meals.
Teddy wonders what they feel
when they wander under his heel.
Teddy sees an apple above…
Something his hungry belly would love.
Ripe and ready in the sky,
Perfect to pick, but why so high?
Teddy takes a break to think
Of color as he takes a drink
Of the Kool-aid Mom made.
It’s pink, I think I’ll take a drink.
Off to the fishing hole…
Bears never need a pole.
Swoop in swift on a wish
To scoop up a fish.
Teddy takes his nap in blue,
just to rest for a minute or two.
The sun still warm, the sky new,
an easy day for me and you
The drowsy day goes on and on,
better move before it’s gone.
The river rolls on by.
Why it goes... I don’t know why.
Teddy takes his tabletop seat.
Sitting straight with hanging feet.
What’s for dinner?
– Hope it’s meat.
Remembering all the day has seen.
Teddy takes his bath to clean
His feet, his hands, his hair, his tail,
With waves to wash and splash and sail.
A first book—for you, for Teddy!
To sit, to read. Are you ready?
Night has come, so sleep well
Take your blanket & I’ll tell...
A bedtime tale ‘till dream's spell
takes you to the morning bell.
Excerpt From: “Teddy's Day” by Peter Liptak
Gone fishin'
https://youtu.be/kbg87pSg9QM
Do fish like plaid
I do . . . Do you?
My hat is plaid.
It's a plaid hat.
A plaid fisherman's hat.
As I walked toward the river
to fish with my friend Pat,
I started to shiver
so I put on my hat.
It's red and green and blue
it's white, yellow and black too.
How can so many colors
work together
to protect my head
from all kinds of weather?
The fish were jumping that day...
jumping for joy I'd say,
for the day had grown to be warm and bright.
Those fish I'd say were quite polite
to greet us with such a strange pretty sight.
We sat by the river
and Pat
noticed a cat
prancing along the river.
Surely fish never chat
with a cat!?
That cat came along and jumped in the river
to make a dish
of a fish
at which point I started to quiver
For a high jumping fish
jumped into my hat.
It made a big squish,
imagine that.
Fish do like plaid you see,
I just wish they'd leave my hat be.
I wear them for the characters that come out with full force... I wear them by mood of course.
Hats
I am the boy who wears hats.
Like Bartholomew Cubbins,
I wear them for protection.
I wear them for warmth.
I wear them for flair,
Or to keep my hair—from flying.
Some I never wear,
Only hang them up
Like dreams upon the wall.
I wear them for the characters
That come out with full force...
I wear them by mood of course.
I never wear them to harm or to heal.
Those hats for me are just not real.
I'd rather feel the breeze in my hair
And warm rain on a face all bare,
Than use a hat's frailty
As justification for brutality.
Coffee Shop Blues or The Cool Cap
I'm wearing a hat today It's blue
"Why is it blue?"
You might ask... As I do.
My blue hat
My blue cap
My cool cap
"Why isn't it purple,
Brown or Black?"
You wonder
As I blunder.
I suppose it's blue
Because it's made of denim
Most denim is blue...
You know. I do.
My blue denim cap
My blue denim baseball cap
My cool cap
Which naturally leads you
To the inquiry
As with me
Basically...
"Why is denim blue? Is it sad?
Is it cold too?"
It could be blue
Like a cool billowing breeze
but it keeps my head warm
from the cold winter's freeze.
Or blue... too
Like a sweet sad song
But it's bright and happy
And the bill is quite long.
I guess blue
Can be happy
And cool too
So here I sit
Wearing my blue jeans
My blue denim shirt
And sporting, before my afternoon nap,
My cool blue denim baseball cap
My cool beautiful billowing breezy blue denim baseball cap
My cool cap
And wonder if I'm blue
Too . . . Are you?