Me and the Moon

I looked in the sky in the late afternoon,
And swear I was being followed by the moon.
It seems to always be that way,
Every night and every day,
I look back over my shoulder to find,
The friendly moon is right behind.
I know I'll never be alone,
That friendly old moon's my chaperone.

©2011-Art Belliveau

Splash! 02/26/11

Sami swims just like a fish.
Allie swims like a croc.
Maggie swims like a dolphin.
I swim like a rock.

©2011-Art Belliveau

Whine-oserous

I have a pet rhinoceros,
Who always is complaining.
He doesn't care for winter days;
He hates it when it's raining.

He has an itch that he can't scratch,
Right behind his ear.
He wants a pair of glasses,
'Cause his vision isn't clear.

He cannot fall asleep at night,
Which makes him cranky every day.
I buy him the most expensive food,
He claims it's just, "Okay."

I think I'll teade this big pain in,
It's gotten too preposerous.
It seems that what I really have,
Is a giant pet Whine-oceros.

© 2011 Art Belliveau

Be Wild at Heart

Be Wild at Heart

Never lose your smile.
Never lose your laugh.
Always keep your head up high,
Just like a giraffe.

Don’t give in to crying,
And sticking out your lippo.
Whenever worries weigh you down,
Float just like a hippo.

When problems start to hit you
From the back and from the front
Put on your thickest, toughest skin,
Just like the elephant.

When people start to get you down,
Don’t become a hater.
Keep a smile on your face,
Just like the alligator.

The going sometimes will get tough,
And the road seem all uphilla.
Just remember that inside,
You’re stronger than a gorilla.

So chase your troubles all away,
Like a bee just stinged ‘em.
Be as happy and as strong,
As our friends in the animal kingdom.

©2011-Art Belliveau

haiku 02/23/11

the breeze at my back
pleasant February morn
time spent with good friends

©2011-Art Belliveau

haiku 02/22/11

a lone dead, brown leaf
mixed among the new-formed buds
past and future blend

©2011-Art Belliveau

senryu 02/21/11

honky tonk music
blasts from an antique jukebox--
let the good times roll!

©2011-Art Belliveau

haiku 02/20/11

the world is quiet
some birds call to each other
friendly voices heard

©2011-Art Belliveau

Nature Makes Me Itch

Nature Makes Me Itch

We went on a camping trip,
Mom and Pop and me.
We pitched our tent and built our fire
Down by the live oak tree.

The mosquitoes, they all loved me;
They thought I tasted swell.
I also was a free buffet
To all the other bugs, as well.

My marshmallow caught fire,
And fell off of the stick.
I think my hot dog was too raw,
It really made me sick.

My tent got leaky in the rain,
And my sleeping bag got soaked.
The ground was covered with tons of rocks--
My back and sides got poked.

I have a rash all up my arms,
My legs, my chest, my face.
It’s spread across my tummy,
And most every other place.

I wanna go home to city life,
Where I can turn on a light with a switch.
I never wanna go camping again--
Nature makes me itch!

haiku 02/19/11

life not yet renewed
mixed among the evergreens
the hardwoods still sleep

©2011-Art Belliveau

senryu 02/17/11

five years later and
still it eats at my soul's core:
i failed my life's test

©2011-Art Belliveau

senryu 02/16/11

waiting for the poem
i hate when it comes so late
keeps me up all night

©2011-Art Belliveau

There’s an Elephant in My Bedroom

There’s an Elephant in My Bedroom

There’s an elephant in my bedroom;
I see it every day.
But when I tell my mom and dad,
He just vanishes away.

They say that he’s not really there,
That it all is in my head.
But if that is really so,
Who’s been eating peanuts in my bed?

©2011 Art Belliveau

senryu 02/13/11

i gave you my heart--
no matter how far you go
it is yours--always

St. Nevercomes Day

“Can I have a pony?” to Daddy I say.
“Of course you can, Sweetie, next St. Nevercomes Day.”
“And a big red stable, and piles of hay?”
“I’ll have it built by St. Nevercomes Day.”

St. Nevercomes Day, St. Nevercomes Day,
I hope you come soon, then I’ll shout “Hooray!”
I’ll get everything that I’ve asked for that day,
I can’t hardly wait for St. Nevercomes Day.

When I ask my Daddy for something I’d like,
A pink unicorn, or a new motorbike,
My Daddy will look at me sideways then say,
“Of course you can, Sweetie, next St. Nevercomes Day.”

St. Nevercomes Day, St. Nevercomes Day,
I hope you come soon, then I’ll shout “Hooray!”
I’ll get everything that I’ve asked for that day,
I can’t hardly wait for St. Nevercomes Day.

I search through the calendar trying to find,
The date for St. Nevercomes Day underlined.
But I just cannot find it, I’m left in the lurch--
I can’t even find it when I Google search.

St. Nevercomes Day, St. Nevercomes Day,
I hope you come soon, then I’ll shout “Hooray!”
I’ll get everything that I’ve asked for that day,
I can’t hardly wait for St. Nevercomes Day.

I hope it comes soon, I don’t think I can last.
I hope that St. Nevercomes Day comes pretty fast.
I’ve told all my friends what I’ll get, and they say, “No way!”
But I’m gonna show them on St. Nevercomes Day.

St. Nevercomes Day, St. Nevercomes Day,
I hope you come soon, then I’ll shout “Hooray!”
I’ll get everything that I’ve asked for that day,
I can’t hardly wait for St. Nevercomes Day.

©2011-Art Belliveau

treadmill 2/11/11

running on life’s treadmill
forever putting one foot in front
of the other
forever trying to make progress
to move ahead
to reach those unreachable goals
to grab the freaking carrot
that they keep dangling just
beyond my fingertips’ reach
complaining is worse than useless
after all
there is only one alternative
and i ain’t ready for that one
not quite yet
so i cowboy up
and keep on moving
even though this damn treadmill
just sometimes ain’t no fun at all

©2011-Art Belliveau

diamante 02/09/11

sad
blue, down
crying sighing, dying
tears, guffaws, loneliness, companions
smiling, joking, laughing
bright, cheerful
happy

©2011-Art Belliveau

Buried in Paperwork 02/02/11

I read in the paper the other day
The news of the death of old Mr. McKay.
He taught me English in seventh grade
And even back then his nerves were all frayed.

They found him one morning, dead in his class,
When a student walked in for a library pass.
He was next to his desk, all spread out on the floor,
Buried in papers that stretched to the door.

Buried by essays and journals, and poems,
Buried by notebooks, and notes from their homes.
Buried by text books and work books and forms,
All of the paperwork that for teachers is norm.

Now he's at rest, his paperwork's done,
(Which when they removed it weighed more than a ton.)
His tombstone looks out on a green, sunlit glade,
With his name chiseled on it and "No More Papers to Grade."



©2011-Art Belliveau