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More about, “Fairy Dust,”

I am madly at work on, “Fairy Dust,” but I thought I would take a bit of time out to let you know how things are going, if you are interested, and even if you are not interested, I am going to let you know anyway.
“Fairy Dust,” is going to be a collection of poems and stories, mostly about Fairies, but I may bring in other things from time to time.

Here are some of the things I have so far. Now don’t expect me to put the whole book on my blog, because if you do you will be disappointed. But from time to time, I will let you have a peek into the book, and into my mind. Scary thought. I mean looking into my mind, not the book.

So without further preamble, here is a few choice bits from, “Fairy Dust,”
Please be kind and let me know what you think, and please share this with all of your contacts. And if you like you can friend me on FB.

Ode to a toad

The fairies gather on the river bank
to feast, to dance, and sing.
It never matters what the song is,
as long as it has a bright cheerful ring.

They eat and eat, and eat a great deal,
until their tummies can hold no more.
They eat, and eat, and eat a long while,
until their tummies get quite sore.

And once their feasting is all done,
and before they take time to rest,
the tune up all their music things,
so their songs will sound their very best.

The fiddler fiddles with fiddle strings,
and takes time to polish his bow.
The guitarist strums his old guitar.
until the band is quite ready to go.

They wash their throats out with garlic juice,
so they can carry the proper tune,
and when all these things are quite done,
they sing beneath the light of a bright moon.

“Old Mr. Toad, pulled a big load,
as he hoped along the long muddy road.
He sang as he hopped, and he hopped as he sang.
As he hopped down the long muddy road
did old tired Mr. Toad, who pulled a big load.
He sang, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee,
I am as happy as a bumble bee.
I am as happy as squirrel up in a tree.
I am as happy as any toad could ever be.

So I say, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee
It’s a toady life for me, a toady life for me.

As Mr. Toad hopped along, hopped along
birds and bears and frogs and trees,
all stopped being busy and listened to his song.
and one by one they started to sing,
So I say, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee,
I am as happy as a bumble bee.
I am as happy as squirrel up in a tree.
I am as happy as any toad could ever be.”

As the fairies played, they’d smile and grin
and chuck each other underneath the chin,
as the guitarist strummed his guitar,
and the violinist sawed away on his violin.

They played and they sang,
they sang and they played.
until the summer night turned into day,
then packed up everything they had
and scurried away, scurried away.
until a new night was born
and they could come back to sing and play,
“So I say, flydiddle, flydiddle, flydiddledee,
I am as happy as a bumble bee.
I am as happy as squirrel up in a tree.
I am as happy as any toad could ever be.”

A Fairy Godfather

Old Bhradain Stinkeyfeet threw a pine nut at the robin trying to steal the worms out of the bait bucket. He shouted, “You old feathered, friggle frackle, you leave them worms alone. Me and my great-great-great-grandson, Railbeart Bogjam Stinkeyfeet spent most of last night a catching them. And we didn’t go about getting as wet as a fish, just to feed you.”
Robin Red-Feathers cocked his head, winked twice at the old fairy, trilled a bright chuckle, and went back to his breakfast.

New Book

Having just released my book, “We’ll Keep a Welcome to the Hillside, on Amazon http://amzn.to/2cySb21 I have plunged up to my eyebrows into my second children’s book, “Fairy Dust. Fairy dust is a collection of short stories and poems about fairies and those that may or may not come in contact with them. Here is an excerpt of one of the poems, “Old Granny Grindle,”

Old Granny Grindle
lives in a thimble,
that’s almost
as big as your house.

A tiny
thin elf
camps out
on a pantry shelf.
And her
dresser drawer
is home
to a mouse.

If you have young children, or know young children, I would appreciate it if you would read this to them and see what they think. I would also like to have your opinion on this poem.

The Silly Season

You never need a reason to look for the silly season. Here in the north we have four distinct seasons, and I am not talking about the hotel chain. We have, now hold onto your hat. We have spring. What a bouncy time of year it is. Some even call it the trampoline season.

Then there is summer, and as you might guess, when it comes to people in the summer, some are here, and some are there.

And then there is my most favorite season of all, Fall. Now I know it hurts when you fall, or if you fall too often, or if you happen to fall on your nose, well that is another matter, which I have no intention of getting into. But if you happen to fall on the part of your anatomy that is padded, well, until you catch your breath, you can sit and admire the beautiful colors of the leaves falling all around you.

We must not forget winter. All I can say about winter, is that it is cold. Oh it does make pretty frost feathers on window-panes.

Ah ha, I bet you thought I had forgot about the strangest season of all. Well you may ask, what is so strange about the silly season. It is odd to say the least. It can occur anytime of the year, and more than once. It never takes place between any of the other seasons, but in the midst of them. It can start at the end of spring, bounce right through summer, fall over autumn, and snow on winter. And the best part of the silly season, it can occur whenever you want it to.

So the next time you feel like singing the blues, spare the neighbors, take the hat of your cat, put it on your head, and call yourself Fred. Dance a jig, oink like a pig. Cluck like a hen. Sit in a play pen. Wiggle your toes, put a carrot on your nose.

Now on Kindle

Fairy Time Ball is now on Kindle in the U.S.A. and in Canada here are the links

http://amzn.to/2coLssR kindle version, Canadian kindle http://amzn.to/2ctTr6n please spread the word

From Fairy Time Ball

This is a poem from fairy time ball, now available on Amazon. Just click on the link. If you like the poem, or your children like it, you and they may also enjoy the story.

“Fairies have come from butter ball trees,
from mountains of ice-cream and snow.
They’ve come from fields of straw-berry jam,
and from lands where stars always glow.

The fairy folk frolic by firefly light.
It’s Princess Shaylee’s birthday today.
They will dance beneath the moon,
and in the star light,
until the night passes away.

She’s turning nine on this happy day.
Nine hundred, if you really must know.

Her gown is thistledown silk,
as soft as a butterfly’s wings.
It’s covered in tiny pink diamonds
and other sparkly bright things.

There’s a tiara on her head,
fairy dust in her hair.
Small golden slippers
on her feet does she wear.

The musician is a harpist,
with a beard down to his knees.
He will play what you wish.
All you do is say please.
A loud achoo bursts out,
every time he eats cheese.

There’s plenty to feast on
and honey water to drink.
No one gets drunk,
if that’s what you think.

“We’ll dance through the dark
until the dawn is new born.
Then we’ll go back to our lands
in the early light of the morn.

We won’t gather again
until the leaves start to fall.
Please say you will come
to the next fairy time ball.”

When the Mine Whistle Blows

This poem is the introduction to my new book, “We’ll Keep a Welcome in the Hillside, which will be available on amazon.com soon. The story is one day in the life of a Welsh coal miner, and his family. Please comment on the poem and please share it with as many people as you can.

When the mine whistle blows,
and the work week ends,
some men wend their way,
to their supper and rest,
But others take a different road,
because it’s the one they like best.

It leads to the Stag and Crown
where they drown their misery away,
with a song and a pint or two.
They’ll not think of their woman
or their children waiting for them
to come home at the end of the day.

Their big hands are calloused
from the shovel and the pick.
Their faces are blackened with coal,
and the only thing are wanting now,
is a song to cheer up their soul.

The colliery and the coal face,
have been left behind in the dark,
been left for another day,
because tonight is for singing,
and drinking all their sorrows away

Their big hands are calloused
from the shovel and the pick.
Their faces are blackened with coal,
and the only thing are wanting now,
is a song to cheer their soul.

As I Look Out my Window

In reality I am not looking out my window, I am staring at a blank TV screen, and it is staring back at me. I wonder what it is thinking, if anything at all. Is it waiting to be turned on? What turns a TV on anyway? Is it new and exciting programs? It is splashing and flashing six million colors across black space, until the watcher becomes dizzy.

The six million colors reminded me of the six-million-dollar man. It’s a good thing it doesn’t cost a dollar a color, or only the very rich could afford one. I wonder if you would be able to buy half a color for fifty cents, or a quarter of a color for a quarter?

I have been thinking about doing a book on silly sayings. I started off with a bucket full, but every time I fish one out, there are two or more to take its place. My bucket started overflowing so badly that silly sayings were crawling all over my floor. I did put them in the bathtub, but now that is getting full. You should try to take a shower with a tub full of silly sayings. Its not easy, not easy in the least.

Here is one to prove my point. 4-888-999-0679=4234-7075 this is Genghis Khan’s number, but don’t bother trying to call him, because Genghis Can’t come to the phone right now, he is busy fighting with his wives about who’s turn it is churn the yak butter.

Fairy Time Ball

if you would like to look inside Fairy Time Ball just click on this link http://amzn.to/2cy7KUX
and if you have tine you can check out all of my books here http://amzn.to/2dbCxrH


September once meant the leaves turned red, and gold, frosty mornings, cool, crisp evenings, but no more. Here in Sudbury we are into the third week of September, and the leaves are as green as they were after the buds opened. There is no frost on the ground, no misty, foggy mornings.

Today if you didn’t happen to look at the calendar, it could be August, or even July, the way the temperature is. Now there is something wrong with this picture. I suppose we have only the same to look forward to. More of one season rolling into another, without any distinction.

We once had four seasons, (and I am not talking about the hotel chain) but now, but now, well it is not worth talking about.

Oh how I long
for the summer days,
and an autumn
crisp and cool,
but mankind
has done us in
by being a greedy fool.

MY new book

My young adult novel Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Light is now available on amazon.com. Just click the link http://amzn.to/2cleFTT

  • Keeper of the Sword

    It is often a simple thing, the roll of the dice, the turn of a card, or a chance meeting that can change one’s life forever. For Josh Campbell, and Morgan Connelly it was a seemingly harmless chain of events, a fight after school and performing a ritual that neither one of them believed in.

  • Death Never Takes a Holiday

    Avaliable at Tate Publishing

  • Dead Air (Now on Amazon)

    coming soon

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  • follow the red link to read more from Keeper of the Sword

    Full of fear and excitement Keeper of the Sword (The Sword of Kings) Josh notched an arrow to the bow string, pulled it back to his ear, took careful aim and released the shaft of death, and before it reached its target, a second bolt sliced through the dark. (To find out more, just follow the link.)
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