Friday, November 21, 2008

the few, The Proud, THE CREW!

Coming from a background in theatre, I was inclined, while directing a local high school production some years ago, to remind those ONSTAGE that, while they might have their names and faces in the press clippings, they - the actors - are NOT doing it by themselves . . . and so, this is my tribute to those stalwart backstage workers, the crew -

the few, The Proud, THE CREW!
(c) 1992

The actor grandly took the stage
Naked as a lark
Sans a shred of costume
He stood there in the dark
For not a single light did shine
As he posed there all alone
He waited, poor thing, to hear a ring
But, you see, there was no phone
No light, no sound, no props at all
He fled from room to room
Except, of course, the house was gone
As he discovered to his gloom
There was no Set, no Lights, no Sound
No Costume - and Props? Not any
And, you know, sans Makeup
He looked fully like a ninny
No shouts of "Bravo!" were heard that night
And there WAS no curtain call
For without those Few we call The Crew
There IS no show at all . . . .

(c) 1992 - Tom A.B. Taylor

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Written 22 years ago. Prompted, I suspect, by memories of childhood and the variety of beasts and monsters - of all sizes, shapes, attributes and attitudes - that were a very real part of it.
Brant was exceptional, of course - one seldom writes of those who are not - well, that's not really true, but, I'm know...with ants, come on! Face it, you're gonna write on the few ants that are REALLY exceptional - and, as you're about to discover, Brant was just such an ant....
(You may find him also in ABANER, AL, BEAGLE AND BRANT, my first volume of poetry for children, 1986)

(c) 1986 - Tom A.B. Taylor

Brant the ant has just one pant
Cuz he's got just one leg
Brant the ant had an acci'dant'
When he was hit by a runaway egg

The egg never even slowed down
The egg never even looked back
If he had, he would've seen
Brant lyin' in the sidewalk crack

Well, the cops were called'n the ambulance came
Or should I say ambu-lant?
The medics said, "It don't look good"
"Can you walk?" Brant said, "I can't."

So they picked him up & they laid him down
And rapidly drove away
The doctors had to ant-utate
That's why Brant walks that way

So, if you are a person
Or if you're a dozen eggs
Please be careful on the sidewalk
Or you might cost an ant his legs....

Monday, November 17, 2008

What's Your Story?

What's Your Story?

I asked, “What’s your problem?” –
and was met with a cold, hard stare
I said, “Come on, what’s your deal?”
The reply: “Yeah…like you care….”
Then I tried, “What’s your story?” –
and he opened up like a rose
And long before he was through,
I knew we all have one of those:

Everyone has a Story –
we all have a tale to tell
But you’ll never know what you’re missin’ –
if y’never learn to listen well
The Truth? Everyone IS a Story –
with countless Ups and Downs
Whose Paths may range
from Miles of Smiles,
to Silent Sobs & Frequent Frowns

When we share our stories,
we’re really sharing ourselves –
It makes no sense to hide your Treasure
on some darkened closet shelves
We Need to share – and, to show we care,
we need to Listen to Each Other…
It’s then we learn they’re Not Strangers:
She’s your Sister… He, your Brother –

So, don’t ever feel out of place,
all alone, and shy
I know, I know – “Easier said than done,”
but y’could, at least, give it a try
And I’m willing to bet, ‘fore it’s all over,
that you, too, will come to see
That They, Them and Those . . .
are not strangers, as you suppose
But part of a … part of Our . . .
Great Big – and growing – Happy Family

© 2006 - Tom A.B. Taylor (F421)

Sunday, November 16, 2008


Once had a really lame speech class. ( I was teaching) They didn't want to DO anything, most especially, give a speech. My frustration led to the following, which was "inspired" by their deadly, apathetic attitude and total lack of effort. Think of a herd of cows . . . .

(c) - Tom A.B. Taylor - 2002

I do not wish to make a speech
It's not that it's beyond my reach
To stand, declaim, orate or preach
It's just . . . I do not wish to make a speech

Perhaps some other - distant - day
I'll boldly stand and be okay
(That day could come - indeed, it may)
But, truth to tell -
Say . . . .

Saturday, November 15, 2008

At the Picture Show

When I was a kid we went to the picture show. Not a film, not a movie, but The Picture Show.
Not sure, tonight, exactly what prompted me to write the following...I had some strange friends from time to time, as a child, but, really - nothin' like the crew you're about to meet.

At the Picture Show
Copyright 1995 - Tom A.B. Taylor

Caw the crow and a flea named Flo
Said, "Hey, let's go to the picture show."
They got Matt the rat, and Babs the bat,
Caught a ride to the mall with a taxi-cat.

They got their tickets, popcorn and coke,
Flo ate too fast and began to choke.
They calmed her down, the show began -
It was
Godzilla Meets Peter Pan!

First it was Godzilla, then Peter on top.
The excitement seemed to never stop!
Matt spilled his drink, Caw chewed his ice,
Flo hid her eyes, Babs watched for mice.

To their delight, Peter won the fight.
Was Tinker Bell happy? You got that right!
Flo, Matt and Babs, and Caw the crow
Had a good time at the picture show!

Friday, November 14, 2008

It's Raining in My Room...

Copyright 1995 - Tom A.B. Taylor

It's Raining in My Room...

It's raining in my room
My bed is getting wet
My papers are all soggy
As is my chemistry set

It's hailing in my room
OUCH - that really hurt!
My friends hide with me beneath my bed
Charlie, Carl and Curt

It's snowing in my room
My knees are 'bout to freeze
I'm looking in my closet
But I can't find my skis!

It's sleeting in my room
Sleet is not good to eat
I slurped some off my shoes
It tasted like my feet....!

It's blowing in my room
Will this wind ever stop?
What should be here is over there
And the bottom is on the top

Rain, hail, snow, sleet
And wind that stings my hide
Enough's enough, already...
I think I'll play outside!

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Cats Don't Bathe!

Poems for Children, Volume 1: Abaner, Al, Beagle and Brant
Tom A.B. Taylor - (c) 1995

Cats Don't Bathe

Cats don't bathe.
Why should they?
They don't play in the dirt.
They'd never have a dirty neck,
if they had to wear a shirt.
They'd simply not sit still,
for sitting for a soak -
That's why cats take showers -
they think bathtubs are a joke!

Tubs are fine for people,
and tubs are fine for dogs.
Bathtubs are swell,
as you know well,
for turtles, snakes and frogs.
But a cat would rather lick itself
'til its tongue was but a nub -
You may see one in a shower . . . but
NEVER in the tub!