michael Smajda Poems

I travel, alone, to far places,
My mind, at times, wishes me to see,
Exotic thoughts my penned hand releases
In verse, prose fashion for posterity.
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Giving pheasants as presents
Would be a new fad
If enough pheasants at
Christmas could be had.
...

'I'm leaving you now, '
Said the leaf to the branch.
'Have a safe journey, '
Replied the branch to the leaf.
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When e'er I hear the name Lola,
I think of many years ago
My falling in love with Lola,
Wanting so much to tell her so.
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There was a day
When we were in luck
And heard the sound
Of the ice cream truck.
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If I kissed you,
What would you do?
Slap my left cheek?
Shout, "How dare you? "
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I'd like to come down and play with you, "
Said the thoughtful hawk to the hen
Who moments ago, quite handily,
Escaped from farmer's wired pen.
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