THE FOX'S TALE

A long time ago, when the world was just beginning, there lived a very tricky prankster known as Frisky Fox. Now, Frisky Fox loved playing jokes on his best friend, Ready Raccoon. Frisky Fox had a long tail, good for gripping things.

One day when Ready Raccoon was down by the stream fishing , and washing his paws, Frisky Fox decided to steal Ready Raccoon’s fish that he had caught . As soon as Ready Raccoon was looking away, Frisky Fox swiped Ready Raccoon’s fish with his long tail, and ran away. Right as Ready Raccoon noticed that his fish were missing he caught a glimpse of a long, slender tail trailing away in the distance behind a bramble bush. He knew exactly who stole his fish. Frisky Fox.

The next day when Frisky Fox and Ready Raccoon met up at the stream. Ready Raccoon coyly greeted his friend, “Hey ya, Frisky Fox! So, ya know how ya always play tricks on me?”

“Yeah! They’re great aren’t they?” Answered Frisky Fox.

“Of course they are,” replied Ready Raccoon. He continued, “But, everyone can fool me, I am just too foolish to notice. A real prankster could do such better pranks than on me. Take Witty Weasel for example. Now that’s a great prankster! He once stole a whole honey pot right under the watchful nose of Boss Bear. Now that was somethin’!”

“Witty Weasel?!” Frisky Fox said feeling full of hubris. “That oaf couldn’t do half the pranks I can do!”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say any thing,” Ready Raccoon pried. “But if ya lookin’ to out do Witty Weasel, I might just have the best prank ever. But itta require the best prankster in the whole forest ta pull it off.”

“Yes!” Frisky Fox said excitedly. “I’m the best prankster in the forest. I can out prank anybody. What is the prank?”

“I was thinking’ ya should play a big one on King Cougar!” Said Ready Raccoon. “Ya know that silly sheepskin blanket he always sleeps with? The greatest prankster in the forest would be able to steal that right out from under him while he sleeps!”

“Yeah! All right then, I’ll go and pay a visit to ol’ fluffbutt!” Frisky Fox said confidently, for King Cougar did not have a glorious tail like himself, it was a stubby like all the other cats of the forest, like the lynx and the bobcat.

So, Frisky Fox Climbed up the mountain using his tail to pull himself up, until he reached King Cougar’s cave. Frisky Fox snuck in and saw King Cougar asleep curled up with his sheepskin blanket. Using his tail he reached over to grab the blanket, when suddenly King Cougar awoke! Seeing Frisky Fox’s tail above him King Cougar grabbed a hold of it with his razor sharp claws, and ripped half of it off, lickety split! Filled with pain and agony, Frisky Fox fled from the cave as fast as he could leaving a trail of blood behind him. As Frisky Fox raced down the hill, he could hear King Cougar following him. He needed to stop this blood or else there would be no place for him to hide that King Cougar could not track him. He frantically made his way back to the stream hoping to lose King Cougar and wash his bloody tail. At the stream he saw his friend, Ready Raccoon washing his paws for supper.

“Oh, my friend, Ready Raccoon!” sobbed Frisky Fox. “Please help me! King Cougar has ripped off half of my glorious tail, and it won’t stop bleeding!

Ready Raccoon, feeling remorse for fooling his friend into going to King Cougar said, “I will only telly you how to stop the bleeding, if you promise to stop playing jokes on me.”

“Okay, okay!” plead Frisky Fox frantically. “I promise not to play anymore jokes!”

“Use the fluff of a cattail,” Ready Raccoon advised. “Make a big enough bandage for your bleeding tail. Wrap it around the tail, and it will stop the bleeding.

Frisky Fox quickly did as he was told, making a bandage from the cattail fluff big enough for his bleeding tail. Soon the bleeding from Frisky Fox’s tail had stopped bleeding. Unfortunately, the fluff from the cattail stuck onto Frisky Fox’s tail, making it a very fluffy and bushy tail that was stained blood red with a white tip at the end. 

After this incident Frisky Fox never visited King Cougar again. He kept his promise, and didn’t play anymore jokes on Ready Raccoon. King Cougar from that day on, proudly prowled the forest with the captured tail, which he sewed onto his own stubby tail, making all the bobcats and lynxes very envious of his long tail.

And that is how the fox’s bushy red tail came to be.

This was a project for Ambree's class that we worked on together. She came up with the general story wanting to write about how the fox got its tail. Her original piece had it where King Cougar made the fox's tail longer. I help her get to the idea of the cattail fluff.

BRIDGES WE'VE CROSSED

BRIDGES WE'VE CROSSED

Where once there was grief
With strength please replace
For sadness relief
Give peace in its place

We'll never forget
That all is not lost
We'll never regret
The bridges we've crossed

'Cause all is for good
And nothing's for naught
When life's understood
Through lessons it taught

To us send down grace
From powers above
That we might embrace
You fully with love

You've formed us, you've sent us
You've tried us, and proved us
All to transform us, augment us
Apply us, improve us

'Cause we are your prized
We shouldn't feel bad
When we are resized
A lot or a tad

We'll never regret
The price that was cost
And never forget
The bridges we've crossed


This poem is dedicated to my mom. Tomorrow is her birthday. She always was one who liked to learn from her hardships. In all her moments of trial, she never doubted or rebuked her savior. She simply asked, "How can I do better?" I took her teachings about trials and adversity on my mission with me. I would pray in companionship prayer, "Father, give us trials today that we might become stronger." My companion got kind of upset. He said, "Smith, we already have enough problems to deal with. We don't need God sending more." His mom didn't teach him what mine had. Trials are not obstacles in the path. They are the stepping stones at the base of a pyramid. Climb them and you will reach their heights!

So to all that struggle this day. Turn back around to the stressors and problems chasing you. Turn around and stand your ground. Be filled with the Light of Christ, and say to those things you fear, "Bring it, I AM here!"

SONG OF EARTH AND SKY: PART I

SONG OF EARTH AND SKY

(PART 1)

Listen oh ye fair and young!
The tale of Earth and Sky once past.
Its song from cliffs and clouds is sung
A doubtful friendship forged yet fast.

We tell the tale writ in song
When wing and hammer in concert beat.
Korin Ithrik’s earthen throngs
Laid aid at Arudanni feet.

Look up, fair one, in the azure sky
The wing-ed race strong and proud.
Though, t’was a time when they couldn’t fly
Nor claim the home among the cloud.

Sheenova wise the Welkin-mother
Looked down on Regnum long ago.
Commanded there be formed another,
A plume from her began to grow.

A race birthed from a single feather
Plucked from tail of Sheenova’s hind
From Her image they’re formed together
Aruda heirs forever twined

That feather fell from Aruda's throne
Descending down upon a pool
In Jalfast’s waters life was grown
Kravaku first, then Kukkatul.

Sheenova came, descent like a dove
To see Her children she had formed
And give them Law She hewed from Love
With promise they would be transformed.

The Goddess asked to never forget
Speaking to them of faith and trust:
"Ensure the poor that their needs are met
Denying self and turn from lust.

"If you will hark and obey this my law
In faith place at my judgment seat
All will I cause to see you in awe
And gift you wings on winds to beat."

Before their god, the two made this vow
“With all our race!” They shouted loud.
“Sheenova, please to our race endow
The gift of flight above the cloud!”

On Jalfast's shores together they made
A humble nest of reeds and clay
To harbor safe the eggs which they laid
In thoughtful care wait for the day,

A brood they'd raise with wings tinted gold
And 'pon these chicks a nation laid.
For this is how the story is told
From hen to chick so vows won’t fade.

....to be continued....

A bit of explanation. Like Galilee, My Home and a few others, this poem was written when I was helping create a world for our Roleplaying Campaign, called Regnum. The world was inhabited by various races. One of which was the Arudanni, a bird-man. They were supposedly created by the goddess of the sky, Uwa, who they called Sheenova. When she visited her Arudanni prophets she took the form of a massive mythical Aruda, sort of like a middle eastern thunderbird. The story is the inkling beginning of an epic poem that tells the story of a union made between this bird-man race and the Dwarves, which are lead by King Korin Ithrik.

The pool of Jalfast is a sacred pool that sits at the base of Mount Skyfast.

I wanted to post this poem for two reasons. I wanted to revise it. There were some areas where the rhythm got sort of choppy. Second, I wanted to continue this poem. After all, it was supposed to be an epic.

SNOWBOARDER

SNOWBOARDER

I stand at the top of the slope looking down

I'm here with my wife on a date outside town

We're bundled from head to the toes in our boots

Surveying the skiers that zoom down the chutes

We're strapped in our bindings and ready to go

To have a great time in the powdery snow

Our boards cut through edges and carve out our groove

My wife is quite good so I feel I must prove

That I can keep up and be cool as she is

To glide like an eagle with grace like a wiz.

But gravity's not much a friend to poor me

I slide round befuddled a lot like a bee

That can't fly so graceful 'cause bees aren't so good

At being like eagles on a thin piece of wood.

So zig zagging down the mountain I slide

Completely without an ounce of cool pride

But never without a smile on my face

'Cause after I fall she's there to embrace

She kisses me soft at the base of the slope

And lifts up my spirits to load me with hope

A true friend to me who fills life with thrills

And takes me advent'ring on snow covered hills

BLACK HOLE

BLACK HOLE

Black, 

Bleak 

Barreling 

Through space 

Bending light round its void

Devouring, 

Destroying, 

Chugging 

Down stars
In the Milky Way

Searching, 

Scouring 

Space, 

Sucking in

All in its reach.

A dense mass of tightly packed
fear and the unknown

Wrapped in a dazzling twilight of
beauty and awe

Brittanie and I watched some very interesting documentaries on Black Holes. A black hole is at the center of EVERY galaxy in the universe. So crazy! There is so much to learn...and some times fear.

WANDERING IN THE WHIRLY WINDY WHITE

WINTER WHITE

Wandering in the whirly windy white
Lost amid this icy wintery sight
Wondering whether
The weather will get better

Fidgeting frozen fingers freezing from
Lack of radiant warmth coming from the sun
Why this foul weather
That's freezing this fowl's feathers?

Shivering sheepishly shamed by the snow
Like a summer toad against this wintery foe
Will this scene ever
Be seen as sizzling weather?

Chittering, chattering teeth and chapped cheeks
Lots of grizzled clouds looming round for weeks
Whipped collar weather
Will boil your choler redder!


My dad wrote a variety of poems. Many of his best poem where about nature. But my dad seemed to capture what we saw as normal in a wit and curious way. I tried to do this about winter. I love the winter, but there at times that I struggle. This poem's whimsy in the usage of alliterations, homophones and broken rhythm is an expression of what I love about winter. While the actual words are what sting me about winter.

GENERATIONS' GIFTS

GENERATION'S GIFTS

The wooden box held time itself
With scrapes and gouges in the sides.
It sat there angled on the shelf
Unmoved, lid closed it now resides

For several years forgotten, then
A man walks past in deep, deep thought
Espies the box, recalls again
The treasures placed within that spot.

Awakened from his reverie
With eagerness and hasty mind
The man draws near the box to see
What tokens there he left behind.

In hand he takes the old wood chest
Blows off the dust and notes aside
It bears a weight of heftiness
What richly wealth was hid inside?

Excited, he removes the lid
With highly hopes and dreams resound
Looks down upon what's now unhid
And sees three simple items found.

Somewhat with feelings of chagrin
That he had kept just three small things
He took the first with gleeful grin
Awakening rememberings.

He held in hand an old pen knife.
And with its touch was flooded then
With memories of Granddad's life,
His tales of war returned again.

His Granddad gave to him this blade
When he was young to keep and use
And with its gift a lesson weighed
About the words he hoped he'd choose.

For Granddad said to each is grant
His tongue by God and like this knife
Can cut and stab like sword in hand
In thoughtless speech of spite and strife.

But those who grace the world in speech
That's wise and good, as quoth the psalm
Will still the storm, the poor will reach
To heal their heart with Gilead's Balm.

The pocket knife he then returned
Into the box with thoughtful hope,
And took the next to be decerned
That lay inside an envelope.

The paper pouch contained a pair
Of cuff links made of brass and gold
His father gave to him to wear
The day he took his bride to hold.

And with this gift a lesson shone
His father kind to him advised.
The cuff link pair had worth alone
But when combined they're truly prized.

This moral wise is also true
Of those who strive to be agreed.
Through work and prayer they can accrue
A price divine, none can exceed.

He placed the cuff links back with care
With hope these lessons would remain.
And drew the final token there
A silver watch with gilded chain.

A gift of love from his own son
That he received one Christmas Day
To honor him for all he'd done
A gift that time would ne'er decay.

A pocket watch with locket door,
Inside inscribed read, "To my dad,
Who e'er made time for me and more
To laugh and dream, for this I'm glad."

A cherished prose that lit his soul
It brought back thoughts of time well played
Upon the lakes and sandy shoals
To raise a boy, foundations laid

The hands of time will always turn
And we must ever seize the day,
And fight for all that we so yearn
Else fast shall fly from us away.

Returning now the time piece back
Unto its place amid the rest
And gently closed the lid a crack
Upon the shelf returned the chest

Until the day it would appease
A tired soul to raise and lift,
To gaze upon blessed memories
And all his generations' gifts.

This poem was meant to be written for the New Year, but I was having trouble getting the right words out. I hope it brings brilliance to the storms we all face. This year remember the kindness of others and the love they have for you. Look around you every day for the lessons that life will teach. Write them down. Share them. What gifts have you been given that have brought great meaning to you? Share them in the comments below. Thank you for reading!