Matilda & Rue: Big Red House On The River Moo

Drip. Drip. Drip.
A spout that leaks.
Tip. Tip. Tip.
A floor that creaks.

One & one.
Try being two.
Make up our old sisters,
Matilda & Rue.

Who might have thought,
Two trouble a mouse.
With these sisters
In their big red house.

So…slipped our mouse.
Down ten wooden stairs.
Taking along with him,
Two Dancing Suit Chairs.

All could not stop.
Flying right for the Spout!
With Matilda & Rue
looking surprised about…
Two Dancing Suit Chairs.
A brave, falling mouse.
Drippity. Drip. Drip.

“BOOOOOOOOO!!!” went the Spout.

“Rue!” cried Matilda.
“The water won’t stop!”

“Oh, no!” went Rue.
“If you can’t swim…then hop!”


Four all in water.
Quite tall to their tummies.
Add on two more
With our Sailing Dust Bunnies.
Standing on top of a blue velvet couch.
UP went the water!
With no where to slouch.

Not even a corner.
Not even the mouse.
Not even Matilda.
In Rue’s red house…
Could stop the cow’s MOOOOOOing.
All milk they made!
UP went the river.

As the red house sailed way…

It sailed past a city.

It sailed past a town.

It sailed past the Circus Boat King Fish Clown.

It sailed for a day.

It sailed until morning.

The big red house sailing until…

The sun began yawning.

“Oh, look at this,” said Matilda to Rue.
“The sun is drying our River of Moo.”

“Well,” went Rue.
“No boo to that. Next time I’ll bring my sailing house hat.”


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Posted by on 09/25/2012 in The word roll


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The Short Tummy Yummy | Authspot

The Short Tummy Yummy | Authspot.


Posted by on 08/24/2012 in The word roll


Matilda & Rue: Big Red House on The River Moo | Authspot

Matilda & Rue: Big Red House on The River Moo | Authspot.

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Posted by on 08/21/2012 in The word roll


“Oz? What Is Happening Out There?”

I am happily reminded of a movie seen some years ago:
Innerspace, starring Dennis Quaid, a fighter pilot on a “miniature” mission inside the body of Martin Short, a nervous recipient.
This movie takes the cake.
And why is this?
Isn’t this supposed to be a trainbarn, where short and sweet kid’s writing is produced? Oh, quite certain we are confident and loving our name.
So…what is with the movie?
All has to do with writing itself.
In Innerspace, Quaid’s character was thrust into a strange-changing world, inside the body of a stranger, observing changes all the time. In his capsule he sat there communicating with the outside world. And from the movie-go perspective; it looked like he was having quite a good time: the little keyboard in front of him, the video screens, one episode of Sam’s “Twistin'” in his living room, while floating in the blood of his new companion. Like writing these days: solitary time. Your video screens. Music. Feet kicked back on the console, while doing pre-flight checks of all your creative systems.
“Oz? Is it all good out there?”
The top Wordkeeper on mission @ remostrainbarn. This is the way it feels. A legacy flowing through time spent creating behind the monitor and off (still can’t shake that pen-to-paper weight ratio, with paper blazing as main creative fuel:)
Behind the controls of one’s own destiny. Floating in a world where everything inspires. Rejection is no longer a powerful tool, designed to keep the best hid in a corner.
There you are.
And here we are. So connected with our themes, sharing vital nutrients in the body of writing, one does
not exist alone.
Inspiration is always in live, open sight. Mere fingertips away. We’re all branched. Tunneled in the core of amazing time.
The exploration through these creative spaces is vastly unlimited.
Take a moment and see how we all are sitting in the theater watching Innerspace.
The Everything Good future is here.
Quaid’s capsule gave him the adventure of a lifetime.
Always believe:
You’ve got the best seat in the house.


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Posted by on 07/30/2012 in The word roll


The Sobb Lynns

We Sobb Lynns are creatures!
We live in all books!
As page-eating critter jitters.
With word-pulling hooks.

We’ll cry if not fed.
Our prized winning stew…
This favorite dish.
Maybe one batch or two.

Scores of us howl,
When meal time finds us never too beat.

Yell Fracke and Goode—
As Sobb Lynn leaders
who not alone have stood.
Loudly in ‘scripts from Frost to Twain,
Discovered page-eating…
As quite a pain.

Call me Page Drifting.
My friend, CommaTale Crooks.
Hunts with Great Paper Caper,
and Bob Sifting Hooks.
We’ll eat and then go.
A message from Sobb Lynn others.
To our friends:

Think about us.
Every word you see.
Is Sobb Lynn meal time ready-to-be.

Rhymed and hooted.
Then we’ll catch.

Another one looted!
Our word fillin’ batch.


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Posted by on 05/25/2012 in The word roll


G. Wonder I: First Catch of Chocolate Moonlight

Every star falling?
From out of the sky!
Who catches them?
But G. Wonder I.

Live at Far’s River.
Beyond Milky Way South.
Warm, never hungry.
In my candy made house.
Made of Moon Pies and Pluto Root Filling,
Syrup Star Bricks line checkered cloths spilling.
My special float soda.
Oh, Heaven’s Delight!
Milled by chewy stacks of chocolate moonlight.

When Summer rings.
A harvest she sings.
A rainbow true to these sweet, starlight things!
I’ve got a flying, Land Chuckle Ship Dove!
Let’s zoooooom out of Wonder’s Space Factory above!
We’ve filled her to brim.
She’s powered by spice,
Cinnamon Rain and Angel Cake Rice.
Landing outside.
@ Middle of Night.
Only at dark.
Out of sight!

Better than Who?
It’s my sweet visit.
Knocking on door.
You may ask,
“Who is it?”

You cannot tell.
Just who I really are.
Bringing such treats from so very far.

Oh, such a wonder!
A sweet catch.
Made from the best of G. Wonder’s batch.
Mouth-watering goodness.
You don’t have to buy.
All from falling stars.
And me…
G. Wonder I.


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Posted by on 04/20/2012 in The word roll


Short Pop Fizzy

Great Pop Fizzies!
You don’t chop stew.
While swimming in
rivers of Noodle Pie Moo…

I wish.
Is a fish—
one to swim.
Dancing I wish as he tangoes on in.
Into those Fizzies.
Not of chopped stew.
While in a canoe.

He don’t need a boat.
A canoe to row?
A fish for sakes even.
Just swims with the flow.

Like a good fish.
You’ll swim in the ocean.
Not needing Fizzies or
row-noodle potion.

We’ll give you water.
Through and through.
Swim deep and blue!


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Posted by on 03/15/2012 in The word roll


The Food Fight. What Will We Do?

Salt & pepper.
A-season divine.
Most other roast.
Your thoughts with mine?
Shall we put on a stew?
Of veggies with that.
Boiling peas’n’cheese
in a grand derby hat.

What will we do?
If no meat can be found.
London Chuck Broil or Sir Top ’em Steak Round.
Oh, cheese & peas–
don’t sit there and spoil.
We’ll dress you up in some aluminum foil!

Clothes and food—
I’d rather a guess.
These cheese veggies like style—
no less.

What will we do?
If our food goes bonkers.
Sailing a river or
swimming to YONKERS!

We’ll find those Smores!
Make friends with Pairs!
And not to laugh at Cobbage,
In his green under-wares.

What about Toe-may-Toes?
My big red friends.
Tang-oh-ee tipping with Cornball Crane Hens.

We’ll use ’em Cornballs;
back apples that sneak.
‘Round Sunny Star Peaches
who Valley Tree speak.

Oh, this food mess!
I know I’ll find,
Chicken Popps biking at Oatmeal-Pork Rhind.

All of you…
And dance like those wafers who all dress in silk.

It’s no wonder.
Next time I’ll be.
Dressing my food—



Posted by on 02/28/2012 in The word roll


Ice Cream For Mother!

I scream for Mother.
After his nose starts sneezing.
“Oh, Brother!” I’ll say,
“Looks like you’re freezing!”

Never I’d guess.
After he melts she’ll find.
Her shoes sticking to son,
and this Brother of mine.
What does he look like?—
a wet wig of goo.
Try maybe a big plop of ice cream.
Dog Do!

Slop up the couch!
No fruity flavor to me.
Just try to be my Brother,
Oh, the mess I see!

Now staring at Mother.
Her look I soon forget.
You’re melting into a nightmare.
Even ice cream would not let.

“Mother!” I scream,
“Get out the cones!
We can scoop him up…
Without any bones.”

I taste you one time.
No worry today.
Brothers are wasteful.
Any way.

Don’t try to be vanilla.
I find it way too plain.
Next time I scream,
Be a candy cane.



Posted by on 02/17/2012 in The word roll


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The Wabbit Tale

Big Sister, Kate!
Don’t laugh at me.
Or I might become a Wabbit.

I’ll hop around.
And break things in the house.
‘Coz being a Wabbit;
It’s like bigger than a mouse.

You might ask…
“Will this Wabbit be?”
When you only stand a quarter of three?

I’ll sneak to the bathroom.
You know the one upstairs.
When Nobody’s Home.
And Nobody’s There.

I’ll mix Dad’s Cotton Lint after-shave lotion.
To start this special, Wabbit Mix Potion.
There’s Peppermint Spray!
For Mom’s slouching kind.
Throw in some fluff-tail,
Me busy about.
Putting it all in.
More Moose Gather Lather!
With Sprint Seed Finn!

At last with a ruffle,
huffle breath and two.
Would I like me Wabbit–
For that I’ll fix eye shadow;
with a taste and all.
Some Elephant Quick.
To grow ten-feet tall!

With a bang and clatter—
puffing you’ll see!
Your Little Brother Sam,
rather too grandly.
When you think and tell me, “DON’T MOVE!”
That’s when my wabbit tale will start the groove.

Knocking over chairs.
And dishes that be.
My over-sized paws running…
so wildly.
All through the living room.
And into the den.
I’ll start chewing on Dad’s book-case.

Gather a lunch.
The ‘fridge must hold!
All yummy rather things a Wabbit
tummy wants cold:

Carrots and celery and peas
with fruit chews.
Anything that’s all-natural.
That I can use!
I’ll eat and stuff ’till I can’t eat anymore.
Out the back door!

You’ll chase me ’round.
Want me small once again?
“OHHHHHHH!!!” You cry.

I’ll merely chuckle.
Falling a-sleep with a snore.
The size of which
this town can’t ignore.

I’ll sleep ’till the radio,
news people come around.
Telling them about
this strange sight they’ve found:
Little Brother Sam.
So big as a Wabbit.
Just because Kate.
You made laughing a habit.



Posted by on 02/13/2012 in The word roll

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