It is every thing
you think it is.
It is the end
of the tunnel
and the light
up ahead.
It is the sound
of the wind
and the silence
of the night.
It is the sun
and the moon
and the memory.
It is the eye
and the hand
and the mouth.
It is the present
and the future
and the past.
It is here.
It is there.
It is gone.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Friday, November 6, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
November
Late November
Time stands still,
Echoes from
A whippoorwill;
Winter sky,
Silver blue,
Maple leaves,
A golden hue;
A hint of snow
Fills the air.
A whispered sigh,
“Is someone there?”
A stranger waves
Upon the hill.
November from
My windowsill.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Time stands still,
Echoes from
A whippoorwill;
Winter sky,
Silver blue,
Maple leaves,
A golden hue;
A hint of snow
Fills the air.
A whispered sigh,
“Is someone there?”
A stranger waves
Upon the hill.
November from
My windowsill.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, October 29, 2009
A Ghostly Night
Cats and bats and witches’ hats
The color of spilled ink,
Jack-o’-lanterns at each door.
I think I saw one wink!
Echoes bounce from house to house
In waves of “Trick or Treat”
As distant sounds of barking dogs
Come drifting down the street.
An owl questions who we are,
These strangers in the night,
All dressed up in eerie clothes
Beneath the pale moonlight.
A skeleton goes running by
Beside a fairy queen,
What is this happy, haunted night?
It must be HALLOWEEN!
©2009 Charles Ghigna
The color of spilled ink,
Jack-o’-lanterns at each door.
I think I saw one wink!
Echoes bounce from house to house
In waves of “Trick or Treat”
As distant sounds of barking dogs
Come drifting down the street.
An owl questions who we are,
These strangers in the night,
All dressed up in eerie clothes
Beneath the pale moonlight.
A skeleton goes running by
Beside a fairy queen,
What is this happy, haunted night?
It must be HALLOWEEN!
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Pumpkins On Guard
Look at all the pumpkin faces
Lighting up so many places.
On the porch and in the yard,
Pumpkin faces standing guard.
Looking friendly, looking mean,
With a smile or with a scream.
Orange faces burning bright
In the cool October night.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Lighting up so many places.
On the porch and in the yard,
Pumpkin faces standing guard.
Looking friendly, looking mean,
With a smile or with a scream.
Orange faces burning bright
In the cool October night.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Cozy Morning Cats
Daddy Cat sat in the windowsill
Watching the sun rise over the hill.
Momma Cat sat on the window box
Cleaning her furry snow white socks.
Kitty Cat sat on the braided rug
Watching a baby ladybug.
Granny Cat sat in the rocking chair
Watching them all in the golden air.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Watching the sun rise over the hill.
Momma Cat sat on the window box
Cleaning her furry snow white socks.
Kitty Cat sat on the braided rug
Watching a baby ladybug.
Granny Cat sat in the rocking chair
Watching them all in the golden air.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Autumn Butterflies
One golden late October day
Two butterflies came out to play.
They circled ‘round a maple tree
And as I ran they ran with me.
I knew they soon would have to go
Before the first November snow.
They dipped their wings to say goodbye,
Then hurried past me to the sky.
I’ve never seen such splendid things,
Autumn leaves on winter wings.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Two butterflies came out to play.
They circled ‘round a maple tree
And as I ran they ran with me.
I knew they soon would have to go
Before the first November snow.
They dipped their wings to say goodbye,
Then hurried past me to the sky.
I’ve never seen such splendid things,
Autumn leaves on winter wings.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
October Haiku
Artist autumn comes,
paints her blush across each tree,
drops palette, and leaves.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
paints her blush across each tree,
drops palette, and leaves.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Ars Longa, Vita Brevis
Art Is Long, Life Is Short
Like the sculptor
who chips away
at what is not
the sculpture,
your life
is in your hands,
the pure
imperfect stone
waiting for its
daily touch,
the gentle tap,
the savored strike
toward mass
and space
that form
the perfect past,
your tribute
to the art
of living.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Like the sculptor
who chips away
at what is not
the sculpture,
your life
is in your hands,
the pure
imperfect stone
waiting for its
daily touch,
the gentle tap,
the savored strike
toward mass
and space
that form
the perfect past,
your tribute
to the art
of living.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wild Romance
I love ewe.
I’m not lion.
I really gopher you.
I never gnu this would happen.
You are so deer to me.
It’s more than I can bear.
Let us seal our love with a kiss.
I will always bee yours.
I will never have any egrets.
You are my one and only gull.
Owl always love you.
from Animal Tracks: Wild Poems to Read Aloud
Harry N. Abrams, Inc., ©2004 Charles Ghigna
I’m not lion.
I really gopher you.
I never gnu this would happen.
You are so deer to me.
It’s more than I can bear.
Let us seal our love with a kiss.
I will always bee yours.
I will never have any egrets.
You are my one and only gull.
Owl always love you.
from Animal Tracks: Wild Poems to Read Aloud
Harry N. Abrams, Inc., ©2004 Charles Ghigna
Friday, September 11, 2009
Butterflies of Fall
Early autumn
and the chill air
already rains with color;
burnt orange leaves,
butterflies of fall,
cascade across an ice blue sky.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
and the chill air
already rains with color;
burnt orange leaves,
butterflies of fall,
cascade across an ice blue sky.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Friday, September 4, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Something Silent in the Air
There’s something silent in the air
Calling out to you;
It calls to all the animals,
Its voice is soft and true.
There’s something silent in the air,
A secret without end;
Something silent in the swan
That says fly South again.
There’s something silent in the air,
As silent as a dream
That stirs inside the salmon
And sends him back up stream.
There’s something silent in the air
Each year when bison roam,
Something silent in the air
That sends us all back home.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Calling out to you;
It calls to all the animals,
Its voice is soft and true.
There’s something silent in the air,
A secret without end;
Something silent in the swan
That says fly South again.
There’s something silent in the air,
As silent as a dream
That stirs inside the salmon
And sends him back up stream.
There’s something silent in the air
Each year when bison roam,
Something silent in the air
That sends us all back home.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Friday, August 21, 2009
On the Way to School
I’ll tell you why I’m tardy
And I hope my excuse will do.
I stopped to view upon a leaf
A spider and some dew.
She spun a web before my eyes
With a soft and silver hue,
And when she looked, I looked at her
And whispered, “Peekaboo!”
I think I may have startled her
And so I waved good-bye,
But when I turned around to go,
I met a butterfly!
I almost caught him in my hand
To bring to class for you,
But when I tried to peek inside,
Away my treasure flew.
And that is how I’m tardy,
But I had to tell you why.
It’s all the fault of a spider’s web
And a sneaky butterfly!
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Father Goose Tree House
And I hope my excuse will do.
I stopped to view upon a leaf
A spider and some dew.
She spun a web before my eyes
With a soft and silver hue,
And when she looked, I looked at her
And whispered, “Peekaboo!”
I think I may have startled her
And so I waved good-bye,
But when I turned around to go,
I met a butterfly!
I almost caught him in my hand
To bring to class for you,
But when I tried to peek inside,
Away my treasure flew.
And that is how I’m tardy,
But I had to tell you why.
It’s all the fault of a spider’s web
And a sneaky butterfly!
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Father Goose Tree House
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
If Words Wore Shoes
If words wore shoes
What kind would yours use?
Would they lace up,
Slip on, or buckle?
Would they walk tall
In boots and high-heels?
Would they slipper,
Or sneaker, or tap?
Or would they
Barefoot dance on the run
Playing tag
With the earth and sun?
©2009 Charles Ghigna
What kind would yours use?
Would they lace up,
Slip on, or buckle?
Would they walk tall
In boots and high-heels?
Would they slipper,
Or sneaker, or tap?
Or would they
Barefoot dance on the run
Playing tag
With the earth and sun?
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Worst Bad Word
Try to think of all the words
That you could live without;
Make a list of all those words
And throw the worst word out.
It’s not a very easy task,
You might just rave and rant;
But don’t give up before you find
The worst bad word is can’t.
@2009 Charles Ghigna
...and another "can't" poem:
ANTS NEVER CRY "UNCLE"
Consider the little ant.
He never says, "I can't."
And so it comes as no surprise,
He carries things ten times his size!
@2009 Charles Ghigna
That you could live without;
Make a list of all those words
And throw the worst word out.
It’s not a very easy task,
You might just rave and rant;
But don’t give up before you find
The worst bad word is can’t.
@2009 Charles Ghigna
...and another "can't" poem:
ANTS NEVER CRY "UNCLE"
Consider the little ant.
He never says, "I can't."
And so it comes as no surprise,
He carries things ten times his size!
@2009 Charles Ghigna
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
After Class
So much gossip in the hall,
“I wish I were a fly on the wall.”
A fly flew by and said with feeling,
“I wish I were a kid on the ceiling.”
©2009 Charles Ghigna
“I wish I were a fly on the wall.”
A fly flew by and said with feeling,
“I wish I were a kid on the ceiling.”
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
What's A Meadow For?
My teacher asked, “May I implore,
What is a metaphor?”
I thought of fields of butterflies
And daffodils and sunny skies.
My answer caught her by surprise:
A meadow’s for the cows to graze,
A place I spend my lazy days,
Where spiders spin their magic maze
And bumble bees perform ballets.
My teacher smiled and smiled some more.
“Now that’s an answer I adore.
A meadow’s for a metaphor!”
©2009 Charles Ghigna
What is a metaphor?”
I thought of fields of butterflies
And daffodils and sunny skies.
My answer caught her by surprise:
A meadow’s for the cows to graze,
A place I spend my lazy days,
Where spiders spin their magic maze
And bumble bees perform ballets.
My teacher smiled and smiled some more.
“Now that’s an answer I adore.
A meadow’s for a metaphor!”
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Weather Wonderland
As sulky as storm clouds,
As friendly as fog,
As lazy as dewdrops
Adrift on a log.
As random as rainbows,
As sure as the snow,
The weather’s a wonder
Wherever we go.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
As friendly as fog,
As lazy as dewdrops
Adrift on a log.
As random as rainbows,
As sure as the snow,
The weather’s a wonder
Wherever we go.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Friday, July 10, 2009
My Tree House
Welcome to my tree house,
my free house,
my me house
where I come to ponder,
to wonder,
to look up at the sky
where I come to daydream,
to play dream,
to watch the clouds roll by
where the air is fresher,
no pressure,
where treetops swish and sway.
It’s where I come to look at
the books that
take me far away.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
my free house,
my me house
where I come to ponder,
to wonder,
to look up at the sky
where I come to daydream,
to play dream,
to watch the clouds roll by
where the air is fresher,
no pressure,
where treetops swish and sway.
It’s where I come to look at
the books that
take me far away.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The Secret Garden
A hidden path of cobble stones,
A fairy sitting with two gnomes,
A bird bath draped in mossy green,
A whisper drifting from a stream,
A marble fountain, a golden swan,
Four tree frogs in a lily pond,
An iron bench, a bronze sun dial
Telling time with a shady smile,
An arch of roses in full bloom,
A bird house orange as the moon.
Like an elf among the flowers,
I could hide in here for hours.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
A fairy sitting with two gnomes,
A bird bath draped in mossy green,
A whisper drifting from a stream,
A marble fountain, a golden swan,
Four tree frogs in a lily pond,
An iron bench, a bronze sun dial
Telling time with a shady smile,
An arch of roses in full bloom,
A bird house orange as the moon.
Like an elf among the flowers,
I could hide in here for hours.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wild Flowers
The underprivileged children of the world do not
have the privilege of choosing where they are born.
Like little wild flowers
That others take for granted,
We stand here growing strong
No matter where we're planted.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
have the privilege of choosing where they are born.
Like little wild flowers
That others take for granted,
We stand here growing strong
No matter where we're planted.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Can You Keep A Silly Secret?
Can you give a friend a cookie,
The last one on the plate?
Can you help him tie his shoe
Even though you’re running late?
Can you keep a silly secret?
Can you hold your talky tongue?
Can you count at Hide-and-Seek
With your eyes closed till you’re done?
Can you share your toys with others?
Can you borrow and return?
Can you thank them with a smile?
Can you wait to take your turn?
Can you do these friendly things,
And do them all again?
Then you will always know that you
Can BE and HAVE a friend!
©2009 Charles Ghigna
The last one on the plate?
Can you help him tie his shoe
Even though you’re running late?
Can you keep a silly secret?
Can you hold your talky tongue?
Can you count at Hide-and-Seek
With your eyes closed till you’re done?
Can you share your toys with others?
Can you borrow and return?
Can you thank them with a smile?
Can you wait to take your turn?
Can you do these friendly things,
And do them all again?
Then you will always know that you
Can BE and HAVE a friend!
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Sunday, June 14, 2009
What's A Poem?
A whisper,
a shout,
thoughts turned
inside out.
A laugh,
a sigh,
an echo
passing by.
A rhythm,
a rhyme,
a moment
caught in time.
A moon,
a star,
a glimpse
of who you are.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
a shout,
thoughts turned
inside out.
A laugh,
a sigh,
an echo
passing by.
A rhythm,
a rhyme,
a moment
caught in time.
A moon,
a star,
a glimpse
of who you are.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Sunday, June 7, 2009
A Poem is a Spider Web
A poem is a spider web
Spun with words of wonder,
Woven lace held in place
By whispers made of thunder.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
©2009 Charles Ghigna
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
A Poem is a Little Path
A poem is a little path
That leads you through the trees.
It takes you to the cliffs and shores,
To anywhere you please.
Follow it and trust you way
With mind and heart as one,
And when the journey's over,
You'll find you've just begun.
©1999 Charles Ghigna
from The 20th Century Children's Poetry Treasury
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