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                   Happily Ticked Off                         When you can’t fix the tics, fix yourself!



Additional Samples / Work in Progress

(The following poems are from a compilation of my poem book under consideration at Armonia Publishing)

The Magic Eye

magic eye


If you are a kid – and I’m betting you are

I’ve got a big secret, so don’t go too far

Or you will miss out

On a story I know

That will start out real small

But soon it will grow

To epic proportions (That means, “I’ve got news!”)

That is huge and important to share just with you

It’s not about Pops or my sister or brother

Nope – this information – it deals with my mother

And since your sweet mama is probably like mine

Who knows everything… about everyone… all of the time

Then perhaps you have noticed, before you speak words

That your mom knows the answer which sounds so absurd

Because it’s not like your mama has two extra brains

Or wizarding powers she stores in a cane

There’s no secret potions she hides in her coffee

Or some “Super Smart” sugar she licks off a toffee

Nope – Moms know it all and this, friends, is why:

Our mothers all own a Magic Eye

It’s not stored in a jar or under a bed

The Magic Eye happens to grow in their head

If you don’t believe me then just look at the facts

  • Does your mom tend to wear a lot of ball caps?
  • Does she wear pony tails
  • Is her hair back in clips?

Well, she’s hiding that eye, so don’t fall for that trick!

Her invisible eye sees behind her head

Which is how she can spot things you’ve done, thought or said!

My sis and I figured this out just today

Because there was a game in a closet that was hidden away

And before we could get the words formed on our lips

Mom said, “No way kids, I’m in no mood for this!

I’m not digging through closets – just go play outside!”

But my sister and I – we started to cry

“But Mom, we’re excited! Doesn’t your Magic Eye know

Just where that game is… if you tell us… we’ll go!”

But Mom just looked tired, brushed her hand on her pants, and said

“Sorry, my Eye’s on vacation in France.”

And with that she told us to, “Please leave the room,”

So we did what she said, but then pretty soon

We were both on a mission

We just had to try

To go on a quest for Mom’s Magic Eye!

There’s no way our smart mom would let that eye go

To France or to Mars or the beach or the snow

That eye’s way too special to be put in the mail

Oh no – we would find it

And we would not fail!

We looked under her bed

And found giant dust balls

We tapped on the floor boards

We patted the walls

We dug through the planters

We sifted through laundry

Not one clue in sight

We were in quite a quandary!

A quandary means Sis and I sure were confused

Where we would find a Magic Eye on the Loose?!

It was not in the toilet

It was not in the pipes

It was not in the fridge

This could take all night!

Now to make matters worse

The house was sty

Which means we made a mess

And still, no Magic Eye

It dawned on my sister that without a doubt

We better clean up so Mom wouldn’t shout

About pots missing lids

Messy beds and book cases

About rearranged doilies and tossed pillow cases

But before we could even

Get one blanket back

Our mama walked in

She stopped dead in her tracks

And before she could even form the simple word, “Why?”

We confessed, “We were looking for your Magic Eye!”

Then her face – it got red

Like a plump ripe tomato

And then it got ashen like a month old potato

She then slumped on a chair

And hung low her head

We were ready for screaming

But she giggled instead

And then, she laughed harder

Pretty soon… she was roaring!

She was chuckling so fierce

She was practically snoring!

And when she could breathe better, our mom, she said, “Hey!

I’m amazed how you knew… that I was going to say,

What’s up with this mess! I can’t understand why?!’

But now, kids, I get it. It was your Magic Eyes!

You must have some growing inside your heads

Which is how you could guess what your mom would have said!”

Then she went to the closet and dug out that game

And we played in the kitchen

While outside the rain

It trickled, then poured

And though our house was a mess

We all shared some cookies

And then I hugged Mom’s chest

It was then I discovered

With a long drawn out sigh

That maybe we didn’t find Mom’s Magic Eye

But she sure found ours

And here’s the best part

Mom’s honest true magic?

It came from her heart


Pink Umbrella


Mom said kids might laugh at me

And even cause a scuffle

If I took this umbrella to school with me

It’s pink (and it has a ruffle)

“Honey,” she said, “You know I don’t care

But since you’re a boy… some kids might stare

So here’s a tip that is tried and true:

Be prepared for an answer that works for you.”

My mom’s pretty sharp so I thought of an answer

‘Bout why boys could wear pink and could sing and be dancers

So when Markus asked, “Dude, why are you carrying THAT?”

I said, “Friend, can’t you see that some girls don’t have hats?

I don’t want their hair-do’s to get wet in the rain

So I’ll walk them to class and they’ll never complain.”

And then while he stood there, kind of biting his lips

I decided to get one more thing in real quick

“My papa says girls like boys who can groove

So if I save their hair then one day you’ll see, dude,

That I’ll have a date to any dance that I please”

And then something happened that you wouldn’t believe

At school the next day… under those rainy day showers

Marcus brought an umbrella – it was purple… with flowers




Jenny has a wheelchair

Charlie has Tourettes

Lana uses crutches

Johnny wears  a weighted vest

Carlos has an in-class aid

(His eyes need a special lense)

The world sees “different”, “stand-out”, “odd”

But I just see a friend


Who Is God


Suhana is a Muslim

She celebrates Ramadan

This means no eating on certain days

And putting henna on

Stella – she’s a Catholic

On Fridays there’s no meat

Around Easter for Lent she gives stuff up

Like soda, gum and treats

Shana is my Jewish friend

She celebrates Yom Kippur

This means no food from dusk to dawn

To keep her soul real pure

Raffi is a Buddist

He puts no meat in his tummy

Everyone’s fasting s to make God feel loved

But between you and me He feels HUNGRY

Good Shouting




There’s shouting going on upstairs

I can’t say exactly why

But Mama’s screaming something ‘bout

“If I cook one more meal I’LL DIE.”

When she finishes yelling about stepping on trucks

And M.I.A. lids from sippy cups

My daddy, well, then he starts right in…

Something about debt that we’re living in

And then I hear words like “credit card”

And for some reason a slipper – it flies pretty hard

Right out of the bedroom

And onto the landing

Which makes me think Mommy is not understanding

And then there is silence… like that’s all they got

Until Mom starts to cry, but dad adds “Nice shot!”

And then for no reason that I see at all

I hear giggling through their bedroom walls

It starts out all quiet like but then it gets louder

And soon laughter is raining like spilled baby powder

And then I hear “sorry’s” and a few “I love you’s”

And then the door shuts so my guess is the two

Of them are likely chatting about how good I can be

Maybe wrapping  a present they don’t want me to see

One thing for sure is that night over dinner

Papa is smiling – (And my dad – he’s no grinner)

So whatever was wrong I guess now is right

It’s crazy how good stuff can come from a fight




On our day off of school, some kids got real lucky

One got a train trip, one got a puppy

One went out hiking

One went to the sea

But I got to go to the DMV

It’s kind of like Disneyland because of the lines

Except there’s no rides and you pay lots of fines

For your car, motorcycle, or even your boat

And workers at desks get frogs in their throats

From screaming out numbers and telling us slobs

That “It’s not our fault mam” and “Yes, sir, it’s my job”

When I couldn’t sit on that hard chair any more

I looked at my mom and said, “Dude I am bored”

She said, “Are you kidding? With all of these people

It’s like a church of humanity minus the steeple.

Start talking to people to lighten the mood

It’s more fun than you think and hey, don’t call me dude.”

 * * *

(The following is an example of a poem I wrote specifically for a mother whose son was upset about having to eat gluten free.)

Ned the Gluten Free Bread


There was once a sandwich
With two pieces of bread
It was flat and gluten free
And it’s name was Ned
Ned was annoyed
Since he had no wheat
He thought his friends
Would not find him so sweet
But it turns out Ned was very wrong
They loved him so much, they sang a song
The best thing Ned found
Was that kids who took bites
Had more positive energy 
Which helped them in life
So before you go biking
Or playing in dirt
Take a bite out of Ned
And know how much you’re worth!
You, too, are like Ned
As great as can be
You’re silly and special and
You are wheat free!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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