The following poems were written as school excercises. In 1963 I was 13 years old!


May 13, 1963

"How will it be?"


What will it be like,

Oh how will it be,

When the cats and the dogs

And the birds and the bees,

And all other life

From a man to a lice,

Will live no more,

To the soil return,

Oh how will it be,

I want to learn!


"What will be said?"

What will be said

When the future has come

Of times long forgotten

Of wars never won?

Of times in the past

That we know of not?

What will be said

Of the things we forgot?


"Just Wishing"

I wish I had a time maschine

To travel to the past.

I'd travel down to Egypt

My first trip, not my last.


I would see Cleopatra,

Is she pretty, is she not?

The truth that I unfold

in the present won't be forgot.


I'd travel to the future

To see what it'll be like.

Maybe see the whole world end

Or to the planets, take a hike.


"The Monster"



I have a story to tell,

A story that you

Probably know not well.


For it was I

That this thing came upon,

This dreary thing,

that came out of the pond!


It was a cold night,

With fierce wind blowing,

The monster came forth

Without me knowing.


It is hard to tell

What the creature is like,

For shadows from trees

Kept him covered all night.


But of what I did see,

Of this horrible thing,

Were the eyes of a demon,

Like a fiery ring.


I found he was there

By the pond on that night,

When I heard but his roar

That meant he was right

At coming forth, from the pond

I do say,

For he is the king

Of the monsters this day!


I hurried on out

With a torch in my hand,

When I heard him walking

Like a quake in the land.


He was big, I could tell,

But I didn't believe

That a creature so big

Did not make me grieve

For the peaceful old times

Before this had come,

This horrible thing

Which looked like a crumb.


When he died and was gone

By the very next day......

This is the end,

I have nothing more to say.



Date unknown, perhaps 1967

untitled short poems


Watermelon, cantelope, pickles, and peas,

All of which I digest with ease.

But tell me this, oh will you please

Why is it that

They make me sneeze?


Out in the vastness of outer space

I know that there must be a place

Where Martians dance and Venusians sing

And Earthlings could do most anything!


What is this place of joy and cheer?

And what's that music that I hear?

Where people dace both soft and hearty

Why! Of cours! It's a folk dance party!


To those who brave a foreign shore

During times of war and strife,

No one am I proud of more

Cause for their country they may give their life.


There is a girl I know

With green eyes like a cat

With hair that in the breeze does blow

Like silk attached to a hat.


I saw a star above this night

It shined the deepest blue,

And as I gazed upon its light,

I could only think of you!


A boy and girl go walking,

A boy and girl go talking.

I wish they were you and me

Strolling along that sea!


A lot of boys pass by me,

But I ignore them so completely,

'Cause at Fort Ord* there's a guy

That I adore so sweetly!


The radio blares in my ear

But its noise I do not hear,

Your words in a recent letter,

Fit the moment much better!


* My girl friend, Terry, had a boyfriend, Cody, who was stationed at Fort Ord. I guess I wrote this for her..


April 26, 1968

Untitled short poems


Never shall I se a foot

Upon a hill so green,

Away from foul air and soot,

Where people are so mean.


The city is a dreadful place,

A place of rush and hurry,

Where news travels at a fast pace,

Where all nice things you bury.


How I'd love to travel

To a place where birds may sing,

And though it hurts you marvel,

At the feel of a single bee's sting.


I'd love to play among the trees

So tall and so majestic,

And pick the flowers that in the breeze

Sway as the winds arrest it.


Why can't I join the creatures there

That live each day of life

Like no human lives a life somewhere,

For humans live in war and strife.




date unknown, perhaps 1968

"Witchcraft of Salem Village"


Witchcraft was strong,

In this Massachusetts place,

Started by some girls

Who got dirt all over their face,

From rolling and squirming

Upon the dirty ground,

And nineteen people were hanged,

As witches they had found.


Both men and women alike,

Were accused as witch and wizards,

And were kept in dirty prisons,

Through snow and terrible blizzards.


One hundred and fifty accused,

But only nineteen died,

Caused by some playful girls,

Who all the time had lied!


They were stuck with pins and bitten,

Which they said the witches did,

The people were determined,

To be the witches rid.