My Poem “Flamingo”

Your passion is like a flame…
an indomitable spirit beats within your heart…
a fire can be found in the blood within your veins…
your strength is inspiring…
ever since I was a boy I have watched you grow
into becoming a striking model of grace and beauty…
to see you as you are now is amazing…
you are loving to those who mean the most to you…
you have seen so much, you have been to so many places –
and yet you have not changed since you were a girl…
I am so proud of who you are…
there is no doubt in my mind that no matter what happens
to you in the future, my sister, you will never stop continuing
to be a beacon of hope for those who you love
and those whom love you…
to me, it is no coincidence that purple is your favourite colour:
because purple is the colour of royalty,
creativity, dignity, devotion, pride, independence, and magic…
to me it is fate that you like flamingos,
because “Flamingo” means “Flame-coloured”,
and Flamingos symbolize love and happiness
and someone who is accepting,
someone who opens their heart for others,
someone who can’t stop giving, and that is you to a tea –
because you embody all that a Flamingo symbolizes.
Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister!
Happy Birthday, Clare!

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My short-story/poem ‘The Trick-or-Treaters’

the-trick-or-treaters
Just before the sun went down
on October 31st,
on the evening of Halloween,
two brothers, Isaac and Reece,
and their little-sister, Hailie,
left their house to go walking up their street
to go knocking on the doors of their neighbours
and to say in one voice the phrase of the hour:
“trick-or treat”.
Every year, on Halloween, these three siblings
loved getting dressed up from head-to-toe
in costumes of their own choosing –
and this year, like every year,
Hailie was a “ghost”, Reece was a “Vampire”,
and Isaac was a “werewolf”,
and every year when they got home from “trick-or-treating”
they always returned with more candy
than they knew what to do with…
going door-to-door with one-another
was a tradition that these three loved reenacting –
come clouds and rain, or under clear sky and moon-shine;
however, they only went up the street and back again,
and since they lived in a cul-de-sac
the sooner that their trick-or-treating began
in no time at all it soon came to a sad end for another year.

Every year it was all treats and no tricks-
but, since this year there was a new neighbour
that had moved into their road,
Reece in particular hoped that maybe this year
they might return home with more
than just a bag full of sweets.

The new neighbours lived in the house
at the end of the road, up a driveway,
where a lady used to live
who had more cats than could ever be counted –
but who had sadly passed-away;
Reece, Isaac, and Hailie, did not know
the late lady well, only her name:
“Mrs. Leech” – however, word got around
and it was thought that now
her sister had taken on her house
following Mrs. Leech’s passing,
and her name was apparently: “Ms. Beetle” –
“like the car, and not the British band”,
the mailman had recently pointed out.

Hailie, Reece, and Isaac,
knocked on every door of their street…but one…
and all three were carrying a considerable
amount of treats to return home with –
however, they had not yet visited Ms. Beetle’s house,
which they had left until last on purpose…
and the walk up the driveway to Ms. Beetle’s house
at the bottom of the street was done slowly –
and as soon as the trio of siblings walked up
onto the wooden porch of Ms. Beetle’s house,
and they knocked on the front-door,
neither one of them knew what to expect –
however, they certainly didn’t expect
the door to open seemingly on its own…
they most certainly didn’t expect to see
Ms. Beetle dressed all in black
mixing away at a giant cauldron-shaped
black container with bubbles and gases
jetting up from the green mixture…
and they most certainly, definitely,
did not expect Ms. Beetle to look
at all three of them and say:
“so, what will it be? Trick or treat?”
And after Hailie, Reece, and Isaac,
then heard Ms. Beetle cackle at the top of her lungs –
that was when all three of them screamed
and then turned around and jumped off
of Ms. Beetle’s porch and they ran
all the way up the street and all the way home,
leaving behind all their treats
that they had collected from the night.

The next day, their was a knock at the door
of Hailie, Reece, and Isaac’s house –
and when their Mom answered the door
Ms. Beetle was standing there on the other side
and smiling from ear-to-ear
and holding out in front of her
the three bags of candy that the kids had left behind.
Ms. Beetle apologized for the night before,
and she gave the kids their bags of candy
and she told them that she was pleased to meet them,
and that this year she gave them both a trick and a treat –
but she also said that there was no telling
what she was going to do next year,
and the only way they will know
is if they are brave enough to come knocking on her door again,
and if they were to all ask her:
“trick-or-treat”?

My Poem ‘When I die’

I am sorry you are reading this now,
I wish I were alive to say this in person-
however, where I am, I do not think that
personal eulogies by those who have died are allowed;
so this is me planning for the inevitable, as always,
leaving another part of me for my friends
(who were my friends),
and for my family, for my parents-
to whom, I will always be their son.

No matter how things turned out,
no matter when, where, and how I died,
things in my life, throughout my life,
felt like and made me feel turned inside-out-
but I had a great life,
I had a wonderful life,
I had an inspiring life,
I had a blessed life,
I had a mostly-happy life-
so I ask anyone who reads this
who remembers anything about me to not cry.

There were times in my life
when I absolutely could not believe my eyes;
there were times growing up
when I was the happiest that anyone of any age
could ever be;
there were times as a teenager
when I was lucky to see each and every beautiful sunrise;
there were times as an adult
when I was never happier
than when I was laughing and joking
with my amazing sister Clare-
talking, and being in the same room,
and loving every second of being with both of our parents;
and of course spending time with inspiring friends;
and of course trying to write inspirational poetry.

I am not about to die-
at least I don’t think so.
I have considered, and I am considering,
what lies beyond death,
and what awaits us all.
I am not going to lie,
I am not in any hurry to give up on life-
just so you know;
but I am writing this poem,
because I want the last words
that people remember me by to be my own;
I want people who know me
to have a copy of this poem,
and to read it and think about me,
when they are alone and cry tears of happiness,
not sadness;
I want people to constantly be saying hello to me,
at the same time that they are saying goodbye.
I want to say that I hope to see you soon
in another life, and I hope that you will never forget me,
and I hope that this poem will keep on gifting you my presence,
in my poetry, in your life,
when I die.