Peppermint Dreams
I come from far across the sea . . . a land where flowers grow on trees, where peppermint grows by every gate, where good things always make you wait.
But now I’m here where flowers grow inside hot houses in the snow and peppermint’s dried and used as tea and good things choose to stay unseen. But in my dreams I still can see the flowers blooming in my tree with peppermint growing all below as streams of goodness ebb and flow.
Many things are better slow!
Turtles, snails and starfish, too, can teach me and can teach you that speed and motion cannot give the things that people need to live. What is needed is to know that many things are better slow … sipping hot tea at the dawn, taking naps on grassy lawns, eating apples to the core, walking ‘long the seaside shore.
Turtles, snails and starfish say: “Slow it down! Enjoy the day!”
Ship School
A ship set sail around the world with a dozen children as crew; their parents knew that the very best school was to learn from the winds as they blew. A wind led their ship to a jungle King, a Tiger with a long gray beard, who told them of secrets that jungle folk knew before any school had appeared.
Just then, a new wind did whistle and blow across their ship’s wide cargo hold; it called them to sail … this time to the sands of a desert with Camels and gold. They talked to the Camels and talked to the gold, but only the Camels talked back. They drew their conclusions, then boarded their ship as a wind blew them towards an ice pack.
A Polar Bear told them of danger and strength and of how he survives freezing cold; then a wind blew them back to their mountain homeland … On return … all twelve children seemed old!
That ship that sails the winds of the world sets off with children as crew, but it never returns till years equal miles … Ah, what a fabulous school they’ve been through!
There’s a Bear!
Near the town there’s a bear! All the mothers are now scared! He came down from the hills! Parents say he should be killed!
On the edge of the town is a circus with a clown—that old clown saw the bear and warned him to get far from there.
Fathers, now, are hunting him! Oh! His future seems so dim! But the bear is never found—with the circus, he left town.
Roy G. Biv
You almost can smell the red of a rose; the orange of an orange can tickle your nose! The yellow of lemons gives life to gray days; and tea that is green makes all feel okay! The blue of the ocean reflects in the sky where indigo buntings do glide and do fly. The color of violets is easy to know. Yes, the colors of rainbows are everywhere grown!
These colors spell out the name of a lad who used to think that his name was all bad. But now that he knows what each letter means, he smiles as he says, “My middle name’s Green!”
“ROY G. BIV, that’s my name! And what is the meaning of your special name?”
The Dream
Late, late at night when I’m tucked into bed, there’s a dream I can’t stop bouncing round my head. It’s the dream that the thing that will wake me up is a lick full of love from my own new pup!
Children of the Sea
There is a land beneath the sea where children play like Manatees. Instead of feet, they all have fins; between their fingers they grow skin.
I’d take you there, but, sad to say, you would not last a single day. The kids there breathe with gills, not lungs; but here’s a secret—they thirst to run! They peek above the waves at you and dream of joining games you do. Their poets write of grassy lands where kids have lungs and feet and hands!
These things are seen
If cars were balloons … our road’s the sky! If houses were ships … our home’s the sea! If problems were birds … they’d fly away! When courage is known, these things are seen!
Tiger Boy
(a Thrice Told Tale)
Crying child, in the wild, who left thee alone? Have no fear, angels near will search for thee a home. Crying child … There! Be mild … the Tiger in the tree who lost her cub has some love to nurse and cuddle thee. “Tiger” boy, full of joy, lived a long, long life; Tiger mom did her job—she found for him a wife.
Another child in the wild was born to Tiger boy; but this child could be mild … he was his parents’ joy.
The Voice of the Dombra
(an ancient tale from Central Asia)
All fear the Khan—the Kazakh King—for death is sure to him who brings news that’s foul to the mighty King! The one who dares to utter ill, with molten treasure, he will be killed! His mouth, with silver, will be boiled & filled!
Alas, one spring, some dread news came—the son of the Khan had been cruelly slain, but no one dared a word to say!
Off in the steppes lived one brave lad who thought of a way to tell the dad—he made an instrument that sang songs sad. Before the Khan, he played and played … he played so sadly that the Khan dismayed and knew his son had died that day! Instead of pouring the boiling mixture into the mouth of the lad who quivered, the Khan took the dombra and poured in silver!
The dombra saved the life of the lad—that two-stringed lute with a voice so sad helped Khan to mourn but not go mad.
All fear the Khan—the Kazakh King—but strong as he is, this truth does ring: “The dombra’s voice is a mightier thing!”
A Fisherman from Hong Kong
A fisherman in Hong Kong put his shorts and thongs on and got into his sampan to leave his crowded island. He sailed the open waters out where there are no borders; he caught a fish and fried it and found some gold inside it.
He didn’t need the gold piece, so, threw it to some seaweed. The seaweed made an island
for the fisherman to live in.
The fisherman from Hong Kong has his shorts and thongs on but rarely sails his sampan—he loves his private island!
Fujian Rose
It blooms for just one single hour … the lovely Fujian Rose. All stop their work to gather round to watch her quickly grow! Her bud stands tall, then magically her beauty fast unfolds. Then slowly beauty lowers her head as Fujian Rose grows old.
If you’re in Fujian please come see this magic one night show … If you do, you’ll ever know the power of the rose.
Aigul-lee
The desert sands were blowing hard, so Anwar couldn’t see that just beyond his palace yard was his young bride Aigul-lee. The desert tribesmen came at night and took his bride away. They’d have killed Anwar except, that night, Anwar had been away.
The desert storm came from his lamp to stop those evil men—it choked their throats and filled their pants and made their scimitars bend.
Anwar braved the choking storm and found the camp of foes—he found them hiding just like worms in sand from head to toe. Aigul-lee cried as he killed the tribesmen in the sand, but hers were tears completely filled with love for her brave man.
Aigul-lee and Prince Anwar lived long exciting lives; they faced all foes and all things hard with taming flaming eyes.
Drift to Sleep
On a star that’s only seen from the open ocean, lives my very special friend who waits for me to motion. When I wave my arms, he sings a secret melody … his starlight sea-song comforts me and helps me drift to sleep.
Gretta’s Bread
Gretta rises early each morn to bake fine loaves of bread; her recipe’s secret, it’s not written down, it’s just kept up in her head. People travel from distant towns in hope of at least a bite. Her bread is so tasty, soft and warm … but one day it stirred up a fight!
One assertive young woman had come too late—the bread had just run out. She plaintively snatched a piece from a lad which made the little boy shout! Gretta emerged from her bakery in time to see the lad let his foot fly and kick the woman … at that Gretta’s face turned sad.
The young woman took hold of Gretta’s strong arm and led her off to the side; she said that the bakery just doesn’t produce enough bread to keep folks satisfied. The assertive young woman suggested a plan to help more folk to get bread; Gretta agreed to allow her to kneed the dough so more people are fed.
Gretta couldn’t foresee what was coming up next—the young woman quickly took charge, and Gretta’s small bakery grew to a factory that merely could boast that it’s large!
People have gradually completely forgot the taste of the small bakery; they settle for size and price and speed that churn from such bread factories.
Still, Gretta rises early each dawn and bakes loaves high in the hills to feed just the mountain men passing her way, and each one can eat till he’s filled.
Breakfast
For breakfast all angels eat cinnamon toast, while champions devour bagels and jam; the breakfast all children have come to love most is green eggs when scrambled and served up with ham.
My Secret Garden
Around my garden I have a fence, but, if you’re kind, I have a bench I brought from China that’s made of jade where we can sip cool lemonade.
Right through there shoots up my fountain, it’s built to look like a Korean mountain; my trees are small—they’re Japanese; my wind chimes waltz with every breeze; my flowers bloom from spring to fall, except behind one secret wall where flowers bloom all year through … when winter comes, I might show you.
Do come in winter—don’t be afraid! We’ll sip hot cocoa on my bench of jade! And when the wall’s topped by the sun, we’ll see that miracles still are done.
The Mouse in the Forrest
The Mouse in the forest was hanging up his wash when all of a sudden he was very nearly squashed by a Fox and her cubs who were, oh so busily, flying right past his house on the way to karate!
After them came a Rabbit with her dozen baby bunnies; she was taking them to study how to cook with mountain honey. Then a goose with her goslings waddled slowly over him—they were learning from a farmer how to build a solid pen.
The poor mouse got back up and he dusted himself off. He alone recognized that sweet nature had been lost.