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A trail, a path, a rutted road,
marked the journey of the old Toad.
He left the Bog he lived in,
starting his life anew, where it began.
From Bog to trail, through the trees,
hiding in daylight under branches and leaves.
He made his way toward the town,
where his family lived, near the Sound.
Water he craved, back to the Sea,
for this journey is not about him,
but more about the man I be.
I must go now; the ight grows dim
as our journey in life is short,
from the time we were born
until life does abort.

A Croc

Posted by MFish Posted on 05/25/2020 at 03:33PM Humor See more by MFish

A Crocodile sat on my back.
I believe his friends, called him Jack.
Jack had been gone a great while,
his place of birth was the river Nile.
He was on my shoulder, wearing a coat.
Happy was I, he had not grabbed my throat.
"Why are you here?' I asked of he.
He said, "don't ask, let it be,
for I am not a Croc, silly boy,
I'm your worries of what's to be,
for your life will soon by history".

My Mind

Posted by MFish Posted on 05/08/2020 at 10:17PM Humor See more by MFish

My mind has chosen to wander,
a distant path towards
the corner of
nooks and crannies.
Dislodging memories,
stuck in my head.
Memories of many occurrences
I thought were dead.
Capture them now, don't wait
using ink and pen,
for if not on paper;
they will end.
These sensitive thoughts you find,
not "Let's Pretend."
Pretend you are a Pirate with
a big sword
and you're at sea, aboard ship,
of your own.
When you come across, a Merchant
Ship of Trade.
You soon will board this ship
and capture the flag,
all booty and treasures
will be yours.

Time to shake loose
all these words in my head.
Without trepidation,
but with courage instead.
Words that will tumble,
as if from a jar,
landing on paper
by aching wrist.
Don't stop now;
my mind does insist.
Write all you can.
Do it right now,
stopping not to think,
just do it.
You do know how
surprisingly the "spring
has run dry."
I'll ask you later.
Please tell me why.

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