Tuesday, August 16, 2011


I kept a fish, his name was Prune. I loved that little purple pet...

He passed away one afternoon, and filled my heart with deep regret.

Hold on! Come back! Just wait a minute! It's too late now... My fish is gone!

I had a bowl with a Betta in it, but all things pass, and he passed on.

I fear his death is all my fault... I fear I killed my Betta beauty...

I fear his swimming came to halt all due to my neglect of duty.

I fear that my procrastination to cleanse that splendid swimmer's dish

Caused such a sickening situation, it killed my faultless little fish!

I told myself "I'll clean that mess, but it can wait until tomorrow!"

I never did though, I confess, and now my heart is filled with sorrow.

I wonder every now and then, how long would he have stuck around

If things were how they should've been? I wish that time could be rewound!

But the past has now passed, and the fish I loved most

Was defeated at last, and he "gave up the ghost".

I found him floating upside-down on April 1st, the day he perished.

He had no fame or great renown, but in my heart he will always be cherished.

All things here were written, each word, line, and letter,

On behalf of a fish that deserved so much better.

Dedicated to Prune, a good fish.

-By Gideon

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

My Poor Fish

I have a Betta fish named Prune
I bought a few years back in June.
I thought he'd bring me happiness,
and though I hate to, I confess
I never stopped to think ahead
About the thing I've come to dread,
The thing that's come to haunt my soul,
The thing called "Cleaning out his bowl"
It's lame, although I'm no complainer,
to scrub that purple pet's container!
It's not the fish, please realize,
but his gross dish that I despise.
The poor, poor thing, I shouldn't speak,
but I don't clean it every week...
In fact, I'm doing good I fear
to clean it once or twice a year!
You think that's bad, the way I treat him?
Well I don't always even feed him!
So, yes, I'm cruel, but that aside,
I love my pet who loves to hide,
and I will keep my grown-up guppy
until I find him belly-uppy!
And at the time he dies, precise,
He'll head to fishy paradise!
-By Gideon

Monday, August 8, 2011

Rhyming for Fun sans Sun

I love to write, I love to rhyme,
I love to do it all the time!
I love to sit and think of words
that sound the same, like "Thirds" and "Birds".
But most the time, and no offense,
I like to make my rhymes make sense...
Except for evenings like tonight
when I'm too tired to function right.
Then all my rhymes will simply be
a waste of time, as you can see!
But hey, if you have read this much,
then I must have the rhyming touch!
This is so bad, so bad I think:
my pen is running out of ink.
I won't be able now to write,
but that's alright, for it is night,
and I shall go and rest my head
upon my stinkin-linkin bed.
And if you think this note is not
worth reading, then forget that thought,
for here is something you have gained:
this note has kept you entertained!
At least, I really hope it has...
If not, go listen to some jazz!
-By Gideon

Monday, April 25, 2011

Hot Feet

My shoes on fire you know,

I guess I’ll have to go,

And put it out and wear my grin.

Oh what a mess I’m in!

Of the burning stench of rubber I do tire,

I guess I should have kept my foot out of the fire.

-To a certain mother who told me to keep my feet away from the propane heater.

-By Joshua

A Lament for my Green Beans

I sowed you with my own two hands
With dreams of how you’d grow
I planted you in fertile sands
But how was I to know
That when at last you’d had your chance
To sprout and live as healthy plants
You’d whither with the circumstance
And yield an empty row

I gave you everything you needed
Water, earth, and sun
But all my efforts went unheeded
Every single one
I hoed you, tilled you, kept you weeded
Watched and prayed and hoped and pleaded
But you gave up and quit, defeated
Withered, wasted, done

You left me kneeling, all alone
In shock and disbelief
You died away, unseen, unknown
No root, no stalk, no leaf
I never thought you’d be outgrown
But when I left you on your own
You perished under dirt and stone
Replacing hope with grief

Now all those dreams are crushed and gone
My joys and laughs so few
But time has passed, I’m moving on
I’ll sow and plant anew
I’ll see a perfect harvest yet
But never, in my heart, forget
The tragic loss and deep regret,
The memory of you

-Dedicated to the lost green beans of May, 2010-

-By Gideon

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Out of Reach

Walking behind your shadow is tiring, my shadow has nothing to do.
No friends to play with and nothing new.
Would you let me just catch up with you?
Maybe our shadows will meet,
hug and shake hands, and maybe even a kiss that is sweet.
Maybe they could play together, and roll around in the grass,
run side by side as the long summers pass.
But no, your shadow is to long for me, walks to fast, I can't keep up.
My heart is too heavy, and just an empty cup.
And all that you said, was it all just fluff?
Just leave me behind, I'm lost in my stuff.
-By Joshua

Once Upon A Floor

Once upon a time, (I know you've heard that before!)
There lived a man who lived inside a house without a floor!
All he could walk on was dirt and debris,
even when he would sweep it so diligently.
Each day, when he woke, he would sweep with a broom.
He would mop with a mop, and would also vacuum!
But after trying in vain to keep his socks clean,
He had a bright thought, while eating a bean.
"If I dump a whole bunch of beans on the ground,
There'll be no more dirt or debris to be found!"
So, he dumped out the beans by the pint and the quart,
But they were so very hard that it gave him a wart.
He tried walking across his new bean covered floor,
But he couldn't stand straight, and it made his feet sore.
So, with feet sore and warted, he sat down and sighed,
he sniffled, and snuffled, and he nearly cried.
Then he started thinking like never before,
New thoughts of a way to get dirt off the floor.
Then suddenly, a brilliant thought ran through his mind,
perhaps he'd find boards made of pine and such kind,
And perhaps he could place those boards over the dirt
So his poor warted feet, when he walked, wouldn't hurt!
So, he ran for his shoes, and his coat by the door,
then he went out to find some boards for his floor.
He sawed down nine trees which he cut into lumber,
Then ate lunch, which was hash-browns and pickled cucumber.
After he finished, he felt better indeed,
so he loaded up all of the boards he would need.
He went home, got a hammer, and nails, and glue,
Then set right off to work to see what he could do.
In no time flat he had finished that floor,
And it shined and it sparkled like never before.
He stood back and viewed it from side to side,
And the work of his hands filled his heart with great pride.
He knew that he now would never have to
dirty his socks again, and so he sighed,"Phew!"
And never again did his feet become sore
When he walked in his house, for he now had a floor!

-By Gideon and Connie