The Cold of Spring

The sharp, bright chill of spring is in the air,

And, though the brilliant sun shines everywhere,

No warmth upon our barren skin we feel,

Remembrance of past winter’s cold is real.

Although the apple tree is full in flower,

New springtime blooms emerge each; every hour,

All emerald green the grasses meet our eye,

Beyond horizon warmer winds are nigh.

Charge on dear Helios’ chariot and your fire,

Full forward bring the warmth of our desire,

Within your grasp our wanton needs you hold,

We wish once more to run in fields of gold.

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 27, 2012

Claw Machine

I'm a little red bear, that lives in there,
In the claw machine,

I do what I do to get out to you,

From the claw machine,

From the claw machine!

Yeah, I’ll dig and I’ll dig; I’m not very big,

In the claw machine,

I’ll crawl, and I’ll crawl; Yeah, I’ll do it all,

In the claw machine,

In the claw machine!

I’ll climb and I’ll climb, Oh, golly gee I’m-

In the claw machine,

I’m not gonna stop, ‘til I’m on the top,

In the claw machine,

In the claw machine!

Put your dollar in; make the claw spin,

In the claw machine,

I’ll scream and I’ll shout; “Now get me out-“

“Of the claw machine!”

I'm In the claw machine!

Yeah, the claw machine!
Stuck'n the claw machine!

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 26, 2012

Young Fathers

Have three sons and each a father,

Take the time to care and bother-

For each son that they are raising,

Love, correct, but always praising.

Every wife a loving mother,

Love their children like no other,

But, each son to find a center,

Yearns for loving Dad and mentor.

Watching grandsons; darling laddies,

Smile when they see their strong daddies,

Hold them; love them, having playtime,

Every night and through the daytime,

Sometimes sons will need correction,

Or that fatherly protection,

Like the bear, at times is scolding,

Helps each son toward manhood molding.

All I see I am confessing,

You, young fathers what a blessing,

 Every son; each day they're living,

 Grows in richest love you're giving.

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 25, 2012

Bright Light Upon the Fiery Rose

Bright light upon the fiery rose,

For I mere sit in calm repose,
To see each bloom upon each stem,
And, savor each the crème de crème.

So now each flow-er blooming here,

The Tiger Lily, orange so dear,
Verbena spikes with purple hue,
With cries of, “Here, come hither you!

“In bouquets”, said the Daisy fair,

“We’ll draw attention everywhere”,
“And, in that simply blend will we”,
“Draw joy and complete harmony!”

Peter Lowell Paulson

June 1, 2012

Celebrate

As long as you are breathing then you know that you’re alive,
No matter foes or trials you face just know that you’ll survive,
With hills ahead or valleys low there’s one thing you must do,
Is keep on moving straight on course and you will make it through.

Yes, times they seem so difficult and foes they will be rough,

But, standing firm with verve and strength they see that you are tough,
Some days you have to speak your mind, but more importantly,
Just show up every day resolved, and do this constantly.

Some days you lose, you feel so down; your moods are dark within,

Seems hard to e'en anticipate the next day to begin,
Remember when you wake that all is passed to yesterday,
The dawn will surely rise again, and you are on your way.

So now the possibilities before you can be seen,

The browns of winter fade away and all is budding green,
You see the smiles on every face; there’s laughter everywhere,
And, you will sense and breathe once more the sweet and freshened air.

Now dream, yes dream for good and great and never second guess,

And, as you prosper ne’er forget the ones who have far less,
But on this day and days to come, enjoy; no longer wait,
You’ve seen it through, and life is good; it’s time to celebrate!

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 22, 2012

Crickety Crack, Crickety Crack (I'll Not Get Up in the Morning)

Crickety Crack, Crickety Crack, I’ll not get up in the morning,
Crickety Crack, Crickety Crack, I’ll not get up in the morning,
I didn't get a wink all night,
If I can sleep I'll feel just right,
My nerves are shot I’m on the brink,
My lace is broke, and my shoes stink,
My hair is tangled in a muss,
And, breakfast time is such a fuss,
If I get up, it must be said,
I’ll have to show’r, and fix my bed,
I hate to be in such a rush,
My teeth I’ll also have to brush,
I’ll say I’m sick and very warm,
The doctors over me will swarm,
They’ll take my temp, and feel my brow,
And, say, “Thank goodness, he’s fine now”,
But, that will surely take some time,
And, it won’t cost me one thin dime,
I cannot move the sheets are tight,
When I lie still I feel just right,
My clothes are dirty; what to wear,
I cannot go to school bare,
So there’s no choice I have to stay,
Inside my P.J.’s here all day,
If I don’t make a single peep,
I think my Mom will let me sleep,
I won’t get up this morning,
I won’t get up this morning,
I won’t get up this morn----ing!

Peter Lowell Paulson
March 20, 2012

Gladsome Days

I’m happy on this gladsome day,

It looks like March, but feels like May,

For fields abound in daffodils,

The warmest breeze wafts through the hills.

The moon and sun both viewed aloft,

And both with hazy halos soft,

If I could jump like younger men,

I’d fore and backflip once again.

Now still within this mid-aged frame,

With mind and soul and heart the same-

As it once was when just a boy,

Unchanged; unmatched with boundless joy!

Can eyes or ears sense brighter days?

Sweet nature kissed by beauteous rays,

A golden sun filled tapestry,

While winds whistle a rhapsody!

Peter Lowell Paulson

March 18, 2012