Rachel Geinert Sapphire Tears
Out of the eyes of the hippo fell tears That slid down his face to his ears
As they rolled down his face to the dirt The tears turned to gems that did flirt
With the sun and all of its rays For they glowed with a gorgeous blue haze
The hippo looked down and the gems And discovered he longed for the Thames
For the blue of the stones Made him feel, in his bones
As though he had never left home
Do you remember How as a child You had a special thing It kept you safe at night And busy all the day
You’d hold it tight And never share Except when mommy made you And even then Your special toy was never far from you
I had several special things I suppose you could say dozens But most important Of all my things Was my cozy baby blankie
I’d wrap up tight And snuggle close And drag it everywhere Until one day I’d dragged it To the point of no repair
My mother threw it out that day I never got it back I cried real hard And begged a lot But there was no point trying
We’ll never forget Our special things The ones we’ve had since birth Even though they’ll soon be gone They’ll stay with us forever
A Collection of Limericks on Assorted Topics
Crazy Bob’s Nob There once was a crazy named Bob On his forehead there was a large nob The nob made him loopy And look rather droopy It forever continued to throb
Refrigerator Dialogue The contents of this fridge are old And are beginning to mold The cheese has gone dry The fruit makes me cry And the milk is no longer cold
Wise Words A man chained his bike to a post Instead of letting it coast The bike said, “How you?” The post replied, “Shoo, If you sit in the sun you will roast.”
Animal Aerobics I today saw a cat with a rat And the rat was wearing a hat The rat started dancing The cat began prancing And I could see why neither was fat
Feverish Rantings For a fan right now I could kill Because then, I know I would chill My face might stop sweating And I might stop fretting If only I’d stop being ill
Darling Jones was an interesting phenomenon. She, of course, hated her parents for sticking her with such an awful name. She had always wished she’d been named something simple and normal, like Sarah or Anne. But, no. Of course not. That would be too blasé, too typical, too average. And Darling’s parents wanted her to be anything but average. Average was a curse word in the house of the Joneses, nothing could be average. Not their car, not their house, not their lawn, and certainly not their child. Darling was destined to be exceptional. So, of course she did everything she could to be average. She refused to try out for the school play. She was a very solid C student (even though she had to work to keep from getting those A’s she knew she could). She never had a date, with a boy or a girl, and she never showed any real talents. Darling was the student the teachers forgot was there. She was the girl her fellow students didn’t even have to try to ignore. Darling blended into the background. A human chameleon. And that was just the way she liked it. How else do you survive with a name like Darling? The Frog Prince She met the love of her life on her fifth birthday. She was dressed in a bright pink tutu that her mother had made her especially for the occasion. There was cake all over her face and perched upon her head a rhinestone tiara that her best friend Katie had given her. The party was over, and all her friends had headed home, so she decided to go into the backyard and play with her pet frog that she had caught earlier that morning. As she bent over to pick up her frog, her tiara fell off into the grass. Now, as all children know, if you are a princess and you kiss a frog, it will turn into a prince. And only princess have tiaras. She thought about this and decided that having her very own prince, just like Cinderella, was definitely a good idea. She bent over to put her lips to the frog’s head. Just as she was a hair’s breadth away from the frog’s froggy lips, she remembered Katie telling her how she could get warts from touching toads. Katie hadn’t known exactly what warts were, just that witches had them so they must be bad. She lifted her head and mulled over this fact. She wasn’t sure if frogs were like toads, but thought that having witchiness on her lips would definitely not match her princess tiara or her pink tutu. She thought for a while, and weighed the merits of a prince and witchy lips. Prince . . . witchy lips . . . prince . . . witchy lips. Kissing the frog might not even work. It only works if the frog was once a prince, or something like that. But, likewise, she might not get witchy lips from kissing a frog. Frogs aren’t toads, and besides, Katie’s dumb sometimes. A prince would definitely be worth it. She lowered her head once more and puckered her lips. Then she stopped again. What if it does work and she gets a prince? Where would she put him? He might not fit under the bed. And what would happen if she got witchy lips and a prince? The prince wouldn’t like her then would he? She thought some more. Yep, still worth it. She leaned down a final time to press her lips to the frog’s. When she was close enough, she opened her eyes and looked into the murky eyes of the frog. He looked back at her. She looked deeper into his eyes and could have sworn he smiled. She kissed him. Nothing happened. She looked at her frog again. At his shiny green skin and deep soulful eyes. She looked at his webbed feet, perfect for swimming (which was her favorite thing to do during the summer), and she looked at his silly flat head. “I like him better this way!” she shouted joyfully and plopped down into the grass and set him on her lap. She spent the rest of the day that way, until night fell and she fell asleep curled around her frog. He hopped away after her mother came to take her inside. She never saw him again, but neither did she forget him.
The Haunters Ruby walked into the conference hall, or rather, he floated. Ghosts don’t walk. So, Ruby floated into the conference hall. It was crowded with ghosts of every race, shape, and age. Some had died horrible, gruesome deaths, and others had gone peacefully in their sleep. Really, the only thing that connected the ghosts at this particular conference, other than the fact that they were all dead, was that they all were haunters. See, not all ghosts end up haunting something. In fact, those are the minority. Most just exist. Those ghosts just float from place to place. They never get seen, and they can’t move anything. They have no chance to find their final resting place. So the haunters are the elite of the ghostly world, and this conference was a chance for all of them to get together and brag about their haunting skills. It was the first such conference that Ruby had ever gone to. They don’t come around very often as it is difficult for ghosts to rent spaces for such things. Ruby had only been dead for 25 years, and the last conference had been right at the beginning, when he was still getting the hang of going through walls and moving things. Even now, he’d only just perfected the art of moving rugs around. It was his own personal joke that the rug in front of the main door would never stay straight for more than a few hours. But anyway, back to the conference. As Ruby stood in the doorway of the main hall, he was suddenly accosted by a fellow member of The Haunters League of Ghosts Imbibed with Insane Skills. The ghost was incredibly tall with the kind of curly mustache that one is accustomed to seeing on a villain in very old films. Ruby looked up at the ghost and realized that he was looking into the face of a master. “Why, hello there, young one. How are you on this fine, fine day?” The ghost spoke with a deep voice that seemed odd coming out of his long, sinewy body. It would have seemed more natural for it to be nasally and evil. “Um, well. I guess I’m just fine today.” Ruby discovered that he was ridiculously nervous. It appeared that everyone here was far beyond the stage of moving carpets for fun, at least if the green lady juggling the chairs while doing a belly dance was any clue. “I’m glad to hear that! I just thought I’d come check on you, since I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before. I’m Charles James Peterson, President of the HLGIIS. Resident Haunter of this fine hotel.” Ruby became slightly more nervous. He was speaking with the president himself. The infamous Haunter of the Provincial Hotel. His antics were known far and wide. He’d done things other Haunters had only dreamed of. Ruby’s own skills paled in comparison. “I noticed you were admiring the skills of yon Mistress of Caerphilly Castle. She is quite the show-off. I find her a tad bit vulgar, personally. There is so much more to being a member of the elite than parlor tricks. Now, what do you do?” The moment Ruby had been dreading from the moment he had walked in the door. How to answer that question? If he told the truth, he would be mocked for the rest of his un-life. However, if he lied, someone was bound to find out and he would be ridiculed far more than otherwise. “Well, I’m still awfully new at this. I haven’t caught on to most of the tricks of the trade. I only decided to come to the conference to get ideas.” “My dear boy, I’m sure you realize that once something has been done, it is no longer scary! You must discover your own strengths. Besides, you have to be at least 15 years old, otherwise you wouldn’t be hovering with such confidence.” “Ah, well, I’m actually 25.” “See then? I’m sure you have been haunting something. When I was your age, I already had my own bell-tower.” “Actually . . .” “Yes?” “Umm . . .” “Yes?” “Well . . . ihauntarug.” “I’m sorry I didn’t catch that.” Ruby took a breath and braced himself for the worst. “I haunt a rug.” Charles James Peterson just looked at him. “That’s it?” “Yes sir. I don’t seem to have the nack for this.” “Well, if that’s not the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life I don’t know what is.” “Excuse me, sir?” “If you didn’t have the aptitude, you wouldn’t have been chosen. Who’s your mentor? Whoever it is should be stripped of all haunting skills for letting you waste away like this.” “I actually don’t have one.” “What?” Ruby could tell that he had committed another ghostly faux pas. He hoped it wasn’t too bad. How was he supposed to know he needed a mentor? He was still new to the whole being dead thing, and it wasn’t like anyone told him. “No sir, I never got one. Was I supposed too? Is it still too late to get one?” Peterson looked at him again. Ruby held his breath, not that he needed to breathe or anything like that, but holding your breath is one of those habits that is hard to break. Plus, suspension isn’t nearly as suspenseful if you don’t hold your breath. “Boy, what is your name?” “Ruby, sir.” “Ruby, it is crucial for a developing ghost, especially one as important to the ghostly world as a Haunter, to be trained correctly in all manners of ghostly things. It is impossible for a ghost to train himself. Thus it is imperative that all ghosts to be assigned mentors at their death. I’m appalled that this seems to have been neglected in your case. It is not your fault at all, and I am going to do my best to alter the situation. Please, forgive me for any trouble this has caused you in your career. If you would grant me the honor of allowing me to become your mentor I would be very pleased. ” Ruby looked at Peterson. He could not believe what had just happened. In fact, he did not believe what had just happened. Ruby opened his mouth to respond, and nothing came out. He swallowed and tried again, with no success. Ruby eyes got wide and his mouth went dry as he began to panic. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth to scream . . . and woke up.
************************************* Ruby walked into the conference hall, or rather, he floated. Ghosts don’t walk. So, Ruby floated into the conference hall. It was crowded with ghosts of every race, shape, and age. Some had died horrible, gruesome deaths, and others had gone peacefully in their sleep. Really, the only thing that connected the ghosts at this particular conference, other than the fact that they were all dead, was that they all were haunters.
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