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Tag Archives: summer
THE LEMONADE LINK
We kids wanted to open
A lemonade stand
Smack dab on the corner
Of Flagstaff and Grand.
But when we arrived,
Supplies all in tow,
Right there on our spot
Was a telephone pole.
Should we relocate?
Give up our plan?
Set up mid-Flagstaff?
Or further down Grand?
No way, we kids said.
That corner’s our goal.
So what if they just….
Moved the telephone pole?
Could that even happen?
Not if we don’t ask,
We agreed then proceeded
To take on the task.
We filled out the forms
Began a petition:
“The Lemonade Kids
Seek Pole Reposition.”
We carried the papers
To City Hall
“This isn’t a thing
we’ve considered at all,”
Said the Receptionist,
Mayor and Clerk.
“Well, I have!” said the Bureau Chief
Of Lemon Work.
“Lemonade was around
long before those phone wires –
which the need for, admit it,
will quite soon expire.
“Look to the future,
These kids are our link!
Invest in their vision:
Wireless lemon drink!”
The Receptionist, Mayor
And Clerk were dumbfounded.
And though trying to hide it,
We kids were astounded.
Our once barely crawling
Lemonade stand
Suddenly had grown legs,
Sprung up and ran.
With a stamp and a seal
And a chorus of “Aye!”s
Our motion was granted
Right before our eyes.
What-if became why became how then
KAPOW!
On the corner of Flagstaff and Grand
We sell now,
Where that telephone pole
Did not go to waste,
After we chopped it up
Into seats for our place.
A place people stop
To sip a cool drink
And to hear the old tale
Of the Lemonade Link.
BIRD BRAINS
It’s great to be a bird in a town
where the lawns are always mowed
Whenever I want an earthborn snack
there’s never a long way to go.
While my country cousins
love their cornfield
I say, all those tall stalks
keep the good stuff concealed.
Here the grass stays short
so the worms can’t hide,
There’s so much to choose
I can hardly decide.
So complain if you want
of the noise from the mower,
And its belches of smoke
with their grassy odor,
I’ll stand by relaxing
while all down the street
My lawn obsessed friends
find me something to eat.
ARM CONFLICT
A new snow-ski Vest
I got from my mom
I’ve heard nice things about it
Except from my arms.
“We just bet,” they both say,
“That thing is the best,
If you’re a belly,
A back or a chest,
“Sealed in from the chill
Inside puffy armor,
Not two nude kazoos in
Full vibrato arm-brrrr.
“While you think it’s real smart
a ‘lightweight sleeveless jacket,’
we brothers-in-arms say:
Vests are a racket!”
“I guess,” said the Vest,
“About as much as gloves,
And long johns, wool socks and
Those things ears call ‘Muffs.’
“Pipe down out there, Arms,
Save your noise for the beach.
The value of vests
Seems well past your reach.”
When my snow-ski vest’s on now,
My Arms roll their eyes,
The chips on their shoulders
Big and undisguised.
All they talk about’s summer
And how it’s the best.
Wonder how they’ll like
My new water-ski vest.
THE GRAY SHAKE EXPRESS
On every other ride
of the Nantucket Rail
the caboose is the front
and the engine the tail,
When in a straight line it goes
then backs up straight,
Club cars of sightseers
and seafood, its freight.
So much saved steel!
All those safe dunes!
All the time saved to ‘Sconset
AND back by noon!
See Lighthouses, Windmills,
Cisco in your pail,
on the Commonwealth’s finest
The Nantucket Rail,
Like no other train,
it drives forward and back:
A steam-powered pendulum
Criss-crossing ACK.
ON THE OTHER SIDE
I can see it there …
Just beyond the bus door …
Just down the bus stairs …
After just one stop more …
Hissing brakes
Lurching stop
Squeaky hinges
I stand at the top …
Then step step step, down I go,
When feet hit street it’s begun:
The summer, sweet summer, there it is, right there,
Just beyond the bus door, all that fun.
MANTISIZING
For what does the poolside mantis pray?
An umbrella drink,
A chameleon who’ll play?
Some clouds to give shade
From the heat of the day?
The salty breeze
Of a distant bay?
To escape the view
Of the hungry blue jay?
The showers of April
The flowers of May?
The observers’ wonder
But the mantis won’t say
For if anything what
By the poolside he prays.
(Photo: PaC)
CAN’T BE LICKED
All day I could eat ice cream
Then still have more at night
To say there is a time I can’t eat ice cream
is not right.
That’s why in all my belt loops
I hook on sixteen spoons,
It’s why at my house there’s
Ten freezers in each room
And toppings stashed inside the pocket
Of each coat I own
And why I’m working on a way
To eat ice cream through my phone.
Ice cream may not be perfect
But it’s very very close
So to sundaes, cones, and chipwiches,
Let’s raise an ice cream toast.
LIFETIME GUARANTEE
Sidewalk chalk and bubble wands
make for fun outside,
brightening the pavement
and soaping up the sky.
So if your Worry Drain’s backed up
on any given day,
get some colored chalk, a jug of suds,
go outside and play.
(Photo: PaC)
HEY SISTER, SOLSTICE-TER
BIG BREAK
Half way through October
Columbus is my best friend
For his famous trip that led us to
A three day-long weekend.
The next month comes the long weekend
When three days turn to four:
When we say, “Thanks, Thanksgiving,
For serving us that much more!”
There’s the great week-long weekends in
December and the spring,
They make me smile, yes,
But only one weekend makes me sing:
It begins the day that school lets out
Sending fun into high gear:
It’s the biggest best break ever,
The Longest Weekend of the Year.
At the start of it the end of it
Looks way further away
Than the New World looked from Europe
On an explorer’s set-sail day.
On this magical most-long weekend
That lasts a quarter year
You don’t need navigation,
It’s permissible to veer
From late nights to slow mornings,
There’s no brakes on this big break:
The Longest Weekend of the Year
Means having and eating your cake.
And when sadly in late August
The Longest Weekend ends
You’ll appreciate again Columbus,
Our three-day-gifting friend.
THE PITS
Oh how it would be lonely
to be the only
seed in a seedless watermelon.
HOW LOW, SOLO – Pity the poor seed stranded in a seedless watermelon sea. (Photo: PaC)
SHORT STORY
Dad said,
“Summer’s out of mothballs, kids!”
We said,
“What does that even mean?”
He laughed,
“Go check out the clothesline!”
We did,
And this is what we seen:
A parade of tan,
red and seersucker,
Madras, orange,
navy and plaid.
We can’t ever recall
a sign of summer
That’s made us kids
feel so sad.
MAN O’WARDROBE
WALKY TALK
TO SEE THIS WALKOPHONOUS POEM & COLLAGE AS PART OF THE #STELLER STORY IN WHICH THEY WERE ORIGINALLY POSTED, CLICK HERE.
If my footsteps,
(Fall crunch: over leaves)
Were able to talk,
(Winter crisp: on snow)
The sound of their words,
(Spring slosh: through puddles)
Would depend when I walk.
(Summer scratch: sandy toes)
A MAN IN A TREE
Look hard,
Do you see?
The Man in the tree?
Way up high
Looking wee
A bark scaling flea.
Saw in hand has he,
Hanging from two or three
Ropes, hooks, pulleys,
And the squeeze of his knees.
How he must feel free
Part man,
Part leaf,
Like a branch in the breeze:
Breathe in sky,
Exhale glee.
That is, at least,
Till he gets company
In the form of some bees,
Who appear suddenly.
Nothing about them
At all unfriendly
These makers of honey
Always aiming to please.
To the hive they’re returning
As they do normally,
But that’s not what the Man in the tree
Thinks he sees.
So he waves and he flails
And he clings nervously
Contemplating a way he can
Flee gracefully.
From here it appears
(perhaps you’d agree)
he cannot speak even
a few words of Bee.
If he could
It might change things,
Presumably
The Man might agree:
He does not need an
Exit strategy ;
That the bees are no bother ;
If he’ll just let them be ;
And enjoy the beauty
At the top off the tree.
SWEET DREAM
If like their pine cone cousins
ice cream cones could grow on trees,
think how many forests
would serve happiness for free.
And if on nature’s dessert
rainbow sprinkles like snowflakes fell,
the world might no longer
have a need for wishing wells.
ONE SUMMER ROADMAP
Collected from May to today
From New Orleans to Albany
These shots together form a
FlyIreWerDelis.
Buzzing, brightening
Petals, pavement,
Earth, sky, shining sea:
A mashed-up summer roadmap bouquet,
The FlyIreWerDelis
For more photos, check out my Instagram gallery at tweed_typewriter
Tweed Typewriter 