What makes a popcorn pop?
The reason my dad told to me, absolutely cannot be –
there’s no sense and there’s no rhyme;
so I set off truth to find:
Jumping Bean said that a worm lays its eggs inside a corn –
when the babies start to squirm,
popcorn pops and they are born!
Then a Caterpillar said, “Jumping Bean has lost his head –
Corn is really a cocoon
from which Butterflies do bloom!”
Then a Chick said: “Corn’s an egg that some Mommy Chick has laid –
if you sit and warm it up,
soon the egg will pop, pop, pop!”
That night my Dad said once more that the moisture in the core
overheats and makes corn pop.
Who’d believe that’s why it pops?!
Still, my Dad to me is tops!
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.
Warning: Don’t turn the lights out!
For hours on end I can get hooked
inside the pages of a book:
my eyes get glued in fixed array
as I can’t tear myself away;
my hands are bound to front and back
by pirates who make sneak attack
on a ship I’ve stowed away upon –
my legs get stiff, I cannot run
‘cos pirates hold a musket gun
up to my head, “I’m almost done,”
I say half dazed unto my Mum
who says, “Lights out!”
and stops my fun.
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!
The magical, marvelous, mystical world
The magical, marvelous, mystical world
that skips across the sea
and pulls the sun up every morn
is what Frank Schmittie sees.
He takes the magical mystical things
and turns them into ink
and fills his pen and lets it write
… at least that’s what I think.
You might be far away from all
the things that Franklin sees,
but as you read the ink that’s here,
with him, you’ll sail the seas.
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.
My Stuffy
My stuffy is so very new –
my mother him did sew.
He is the best I ever knew –
and I will tell you so!
Dogs Wed Cats
In yesteryear you’d often see
a dog that wed a cat
Since both the kitten and the pup
would sooner play than nap!
First, he liked her, then she liked him
till once they disagreed —
She tried and tried to have her way
and make that mutt concede.
Alas, his view could not be turned —
he too much liked to play!
And that is why the cat and dog
are no more wed today.
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.
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?”
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.
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.
Bedtime Magic
Bedtime magic only comes
when the busy day is done;
when the lights are turned down low,
that’s when magic starts to glow.
When I wiggle my two thumbs,
I can watch the fairies come.
When my index fingers meet,
angels wings then start to beat.
When my middle fingers bow,
from the sky flee all dark clouds.
Then my fingers made for rings
touch and start a happy dream.
In my sleep my pinkies sing
of all the joys tomorrow brings.
Bedtime magic’s new each night –
it starts when Mums puts out my light.
Nightie night!
Paper Dragon
The little old man by the road had a stand
to sell paper dragons, each cut by his hand.
Their colors were yellow and purple and green.
Their bones were of bamboo which made them all seem
like Festival lanterns, except for one thing:
inside was no place for a candle to rest.
And yet from their nostrils, as you might’ve guessed,
spit fire like a torch for a second or two,
then up in the air Dragon’s paper all blew.
So quickly the splendor of paper did burn;
colors and shapes into ash and smoke turned.
Only charred bamboo was left on the ground,
with no trace of Dragon to ever be found.
One day a girl (who was soon to meet death)
did stop by his stand to make one small request:
“Hello, Mr. Dragon-man, O pretty please,
light up a dragon especially for me.
I have not the pennies to buy one from you,
but please light that green one with eyes baby blue.”
The joy in her eyes as the dragon spat fire
was treasure enough for the man to retire.
But later that day into danger she strayed,
and now deep in China her body is laid.
Still, knowing the joy of the dragon’s bright flame
was last in her mind when her short life was claimed
does comfort the hearts of the ones who are left.
It eases the pain though they still live bereft.
That light flickers bright and will light up my eye
until my last day when I also shall die.
The torch from the dragon – just second or two –
eternally burns, as I’ve shared it with you.
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.
Nighty, Nighty, Nighty Night
Little Darling, sleep tonight,
you are in an angel’s sight.
He’s above you like a dove –
his pure heart does beat with love.
Little Darling, sleep tonight –
nighty, nighty, nighty night.
Bluebirds, Robins, Sparrows, Doves,
whirling, swooping high above,
sing their songs and build their nests,
just as I before my rest.
Pillows round me form a ring:
it’s a nest from which I sing,
nighty, nighty, nighty night.
Little Darling, sleep tonight,
you are in an angel’s sight.
He’s above you like a dove –
his pure heart does beat with love.
Little Darling, sleep tonight –
nighty, nighty, nighty night.
Big Ben
Big Ben’s striding down the path
roaring, spitting, full of wrath,
growling, howling, mean as tar
scaring children near and far.
From the shadows calls a wizard
turning Ben into a lizard,
but the spell wears off too fast –
Ben grows tall as a ship’s mast.
Then the wizard casts a spell:
“You shall now be clanging bells.”
Putting Ben into a tower,
now Ben rings each quarter hour.
Children now have no more fear
when Big Ben gets very near.
They enjoy his chimes and clocks
that howl no more but go tick-tock.
The Cricket & My Kite
The cricket outside my window,
under the peace of night,
fills up the air
with a nighttime dare –
“Come fly a glow-in-the-dark kite!”
And rushing outside
in the light of the moon,
I let my little kite fly –
with a sweet lullaby
it went up in the sky
and now I’m asleep for the night.
The Lone Bird
In a tree far away
sings a bird each new day
a tune that we all knew
when the angels on earth flew.
It’s a tune you can hear
when you give up all you fear
of unknowns up ahead …
letting rest inside your head.
As the sun up does rise
giving colors to the skies,
it gives hope day by day
of a much better way.
And now we sing the song,
In Creation we belong!
Yes, how wondrous the song,
In Creation we belong!
In a tree far away
sings a bird each new day,
that wakens up the sky
showing life to you and I.
The Smallest Drop of Sunshine
“Sunshine doesn’t drop!”
said Sally to her pop.
“Let me show you how –
come with me right now.”
Her daddy took her to
a place that just he knew
that looks into the south.
And Sally dropped her mouth.
In that tiny little room
was rosebud ’bout to bloom
and the only light about
was a pinhole facing south.
And once each every day
from June until next May
does a tiny little drop
off sunshine through it pop.
Sally now does see
how a drop of sun can be
the powerfulest fuel.
“Dad,” she said, “That’s cool!”
The Sun’s Song
I wake up each morning to push up the dawn –
I stretch and sing and let out a yawn.
I set in motion another fine day
so puppies and kittens and children can play!
A Needle in a Haystack
A needle in a haystack – such a silly notion!
A needle in a haystack – why all the commotion?
The doctor’s here to find it, but Fanny won’t stop crying.
She says that she has found it, though she wasn’t even trying.
She sat at noon to rest her legs; at once she started crying.
The needle sank into her rear; she feels as if she’s dying!
Her derriere does need repair, but she won’t let the doctor
check her there (she doesn’t care if she offends the doctor).
So, next time someone says to you to find a needle in a haystack
is hard to do, here’s what to do to get that needle back:
just take a load off your tired legs and sit down without worry.
You’ll find that needle, sure as Flynn, and find it in a hurry.
A needle in a haystack – such a silly notion!
As you can see, finding it merely takes devotion.
But, be prepared to show a bit of Fanny’s raw emotion.
And, yes, remember first to buy a lot of first aid lotion.
Pumpkin Jack
Little Bumpkin was a pumpkin in a pumpkin patch;
he had a fear with Halloween near of ladies who might snatch
… snatch him from the pumpkin patch and turn him to a pie,
so, he changed his name and lit a flame and poked out his two eyes!
He poked his nose and poked his teeth to make a scary face,
and when those brazen bakers came they stopped their forward pace.
Instead of Bumpkin they saw Jack, a lantern like a ghost.
They forswore thoughts of pumpkin pie . . . “Instead, let’s just make toast!”
Yes, a toast. Why not!
Next time at a banquet meal you lift your glasses high,
remember Jack-o’-lantern’s flame, whose wits kept him alive! Cheers!
Nighty Night, Sleep Tight
Little darling, sleep tonight.
You are in an angel’s sight;
he’s above you like a dove,
his pure heart does beat with love.
Little darling, sleep tonight –
Nighty night, nighty night!
Bluebirds, robins, sparrows, doves,
whirling, swooping high above,
sing their songs and build their nests,
just as you do before you rest.
Pillows round you form a ring –
it’s a nest from which we sing
of many happy pleasant things.
Little darling, sleep tonight.
You are in an angel’s sight;
he’s above you like a dove,
his pure heart does beat with love.
Little darling, sleep tonight –
Nighty night, nighty night!
Tiger Boy
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.
A Chinese Blessing
May the waters of your toilet ever flush beneath you, but God forbid that they should ever rise to meet you!