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The Series

  1. The Yellow Light Flickered
  2. The Typewriter Man
  3. The Tourist
  4. The Children Are The Eyes Of The World
  5. The Cloud
  6. The Contest
  7. The Ghosts Of Canal Road
  8. The Ice Cream Man Was A Hero
  9. The Keyboard
  10. The King And The Worker
  11. The Newspaper Drive
  12. The Old Man And The Music Box
  13. The Robin
  14. The Scourge Of War
  15. The Screw And The Nail
  16. The Seven Minute Wait
  17. The Shark And The Piranha
  18. The Stairs
  19. The Taxman

 

The Yellow Light Flickered



The yellow light flickered
stillness of the night
as the student studied
against backdrop of light
birds etched in their shadow
alone on the ledge
the star made a signal
rippled in the green hedge
the house was so quiet
the air still and warm
knowing head bent low
favourite book before storm....

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Typewriter Man

The typewriter man arrived at the office today
he was very old and walked in a way
of younger, fit, days but his hands were his tools,
as he cleaned and he scraped on the typewriter, fooled ....
by abuse and neglect, yet he was not deceived
for that typewriter man with his aged tools, could see
bent frame o'er the desk, for one needed a rest
he would not give up, he would give it his best
click, click on the keys, holding tightly greased hands
lifting up the old hood, with a red, circled band
dust and paperclips found, gently brushing away
to the end, whitened tips .... just a moment to play
a darling, lost tune …. sing again on the board,
for the ancient machine, was now ready to …. soar
how happy he was with a grin on his face

"Your typewriter is clean, not a mark ....
nor a trace."

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Tourist

The tourist walked down the busy streets
nostalgia formatting in his mind
rows of fruit vases lay at his feet
remembering a finer time.

Strangers visited his hotel room
garbling his famous presence
while he looked at the bouquet …. blooms’
feigning, a comfort zone of essence.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Taxman

We look at the pay stub and what do we see
Taxes on the earnings, expenses foreseen
Pension Plans and Federal Tax it's not hard to tell
We are paying the rich pockets, may they all go to h***
For we are the poor guy, who slugs everyday
Trying to make a living, off our lowly pay
Credits and debits do haunt us for sure
As the arrogant tax-man slices up the shorn poor
Oh give me a hammer, and give me a nail
For it's time for the taxman .… to land up in jail.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Stairs

She looked up as her father took the railing
by his left hand and shuffled his right foot
up the stairs following with the lagging left-
up the stairs he moved slowly, measuring
each footstep as his last .... his breath was
uneven and worn
and the daughter knew she
would never see him make it up the steps again ....

his right hand grasped his green, plastic water cup with his
gnarled, arthritic hands -
up slowly ,slowly he moved,
each
stairs painfully counted as time ticked by-
his once black hair, now greyed and thinning ....
while huffing and puffing -
with one last heave -
the old man
made it to the top .....
and the woman looked up again
at her frail father with tears in her eyes-
she remembered how
as a younger girl she was so frightened of him-
now she felt only great remorse,
at her father's
failing health
and the old fear and trepidation
were gone -
astride the reality of the present-
how many times
had she watched him take those stairs in stride ....
with bold, unnerving footsteps, klumpity, klump-klump-
now his old, brown slippers loose on his feet
and the hardened, yellow toenails looking ancient and sickly .....

the daughter could see him shuffling upstairs
with his unbalanced walk
as he headed towards the small bathroom;
once more she looked up
and saw him
staggering past in his favourite red,
tartan bathrobe
and faded, washed pyjamas-
that he loved to wear -
every day becoming weaker
and weaker .......
tomorrow an urgent phone call from her mother-
since to the family's demise
he
had fallen down the stairs and couldn't get up .......
the father never did climb those
damn stairs again ..... and the daughter was not surprised.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Shark And The Piranha

The shark ..... evil and ferocious, swam
nearby moved ...... moved ...... like any destructive
species headed fiercely in a grove.

Gliding towards a violent perception
mankind's similar tears weep; the shark's eyes keenly
accurate, piercingly steadfast in the deep.

Waters, smooth and yet durable ..... pungent
smell also awake, the shark invigilated
trickery; mimic as mankind does hate.

So too ..... was the piranha, silently waiting
yet small ..... to destroy and
capture; encircling prey ....... within it's haul.

How interesting it may seem, atop Celestial
one shines ....... sun's golden warm rays; reprieved
sectarian secrets did mind.

Power resides in the numbers,
forecast older and old, where wars forever unfinished ......
the true, lost politics ....... untold.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Seven Minute Wait

The black and white clock
hung from the cream wall
ticking, go home for the day
work is finished for all.

Remember, shut-down now
to avoid any debate
heads up, it's a given
make sure, or your fate ….

Will be leaving too early
or coming in too .... too late,
as the clock goes on running
in the seven minute wait!!

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Scourge Of War

War must and can be avoided
yielding misguided trust ....... one fears
suspicion less peaceful humanities
uncertain ties globally ........ revered.

Greedy and financially satisfied fortune-seekers
armaments, industrialists ......... benefit the bed
provoked in religious movements
penned in inked significance ........ blood-red.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Robin

Robin looked on the heavens
creature of habit was he
the starlight tunnels of twilight
faced his stark reality
flight of angels masked him
time to think his way
surmounting on a brawn pedestal
what ....... to do today?

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Old Man And The Music Box

The old man sat in the peach-covered velvet chair.
He had a toothpick in his mouth and
reached for the piano music box to his right.
He turned it on, while the music box played Memories
from the past hit Broadway show, Cats.
He picked up slowly the Cameo broach in the music box.
“This is worth more money now, more than before.”
Individually, he reached for each trinket …..
a key, long-lost and a silver pin with a rose.
“This is real silver, you know,” he said
holding up a clip with another rose on it, albeit
an old telephone pin.

Quietly, the old man spoke.
“These are for my daughter. She doesn’t even realize
what is hidden in this music box. “
“I bet you didn’t even know it played music, did you?”
And the music played on and on, while the old man listed intently.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Newspaper Drive

The lady drove up the country road
behind the black van
watching in amazement
as the man threw out each
pink, plastic-covered newspaper
with delighted perfection
on every driveway
he passed by .....
plunk, plunk went the sound
of the newspaper
banging on gravelled
or dirt driveways;
plunk .... plunk ..... plunk .....
and ..... the driver drove on.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The King And The Worker

They sat at the table, how mesmerized were thee
the king and the worker,
foretold a shrouded destiny’s key
with goat's cheese and dry bread quickly eaten in kind
by a fellowship’s tasks minded,
mulching trust parted before time.

"Say, Hooo", cried the gate-keeper, as one would expect
turned clouded eyes - to the king's helm,
as damp chambers were met
"Great Gods", moaned the inn-keeper, for one could not hear
mere passions blinded the large feast,
starved inmates jostled their fear.

Undivided was the worker, the king was not surprised
clearly, the fellowship of the Emerald land –
merely shifted glances, not denied
armours were changing witnessed, masked past,
as sheep were seen … herded away
commoner’s guard o'er the masses.

One stricken country divided, Irish soil - north and south
scattered ashes of the children lying alone in the graves,
as hash and potatoes were rationed … to mouths ,
losses should remember, darkened passages to find
timbered, fallen warships and their sailors
warriors soiled with their grime.

Yes, the king and the worker conversed till midnight that day
chiefly- witnessed in the dark, tiny room,
retold the tarnished damsel come ... may
before greed took its corrupt hand, in the coming of events
as the years passed through poverty’s , besieged, daily lives
only Ireland’s leaders could prevent.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Keyboard

Slim fingers jumping one by one
dusted keyboard, Ohhhhh what fun
up and down ..... and up and down
dancing favourites, open sounds.

How he wondered in his dreams
little escape codes ...... touching reams
of white paper ..... Ohhhhh what fun
linking, scrolling and succumb.

Tab and over, caps ...... and shift
little keyboard has its lift
as one can imagine, if one tries
forward ..... backward, catching eyes ….

To the keyboard .... Ohhhhh what fun
searching refresh ..... look who's won !!!!!!!!

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Ice Cream Man Was A Hero

DINA DIN DIN, DING-DONG, sang the chimes on the ice-cream truck as it merrily came
down the road to the end of the street. Turning, the white and pink truck stopped
and all the children came running out from their houses, on a Saturday afternoon with their little pocket money they had saved.
Some kids were only five, and six while some were older. The chimes from the truck rang again. Then, the window was opened and
out popped the vendor's head.
Yes, it was the ice cream man, ready for the children's orders! " Line up,"
he said " and I will look after you ..... and what do you want," he said , to the little boy first in line.
"I wanta the chocolate dip", yelled Paul with his little carrot red hair bobbing.
"Me too," cried Anna, next in line. Anna was Paul's sister and they fought for who would be first in line, as usual every Saturday
morning. "Hurray up", yelled Michael to his younger brother Joseph who always took his time walking out to the truck.

Michael was a bit on the heavy side and plodded out with his slow gait to the
truck, while his younger brother was as skinny as a rail. Both loved their chocolate fudge popsicles. They weren't much
into sports. Video games were their master skills, but boy, did they like the ice-cream man. He was their hero.

For the ice-cream man smiled a big smile down from the truck to thes
e two boys, without a father, and they loved it! Blaze, the dog licked up the bits and pieces left behind; nobody was left without.
All the kids got their treats and if the ice-cream man had a little extra on the scoop he would drop it on purpose for Blaze to
suck it right up from the warm pavement before it melted.
OHHHHH ..... YAH , the ice-cream man was a hero!!!!!!
Juanita Tice Paulino

The Contest

I woke up this morning and what did I find
HARK! It is a Poetry Contest ... prose and scripted with rhyme;
sitting up in my housecoat, my black coffee so near
thinking what could I write ... pencil close to my ear;

Carefully I pondered the theme, flirting safe in my mind …
whispers yonder, sandy beaches, pebbled Boardwalk ... so fine
while the CN Tower, majestically- stood solely, on it's own
next to Harbourfront ‘s canoe races, paddles clipping ... great form;

Daydreams, o’er to Casa Loma, where stated history can soar
ninety-eight rooms of castle ... built before the First War;
or a walk to our City Hall ... jazz at Nathan Philips Square
as summer events, and rehearsals are handled with care;

The art galleries and museums portray a cultural background
leaving you with timeless memories and soaring knowledge ... so profound;
yes, we are all involved ... as a growing Metropolis lifts it's face
ascending stars climbing upward, in a moment’s sans haste;

One's reflections on a gyroscope ... city axis so warm
I rose slowly, again contemplating … our great city of charm;
drawing halfway- my curtains, I gazed away from my bed,
to a sunrise winking gleefully … over TO's front hedge.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Cloud

I turned the corner along the road to my house
and there resting in a lofty manner
was one solitary, white, puffy cloud.

It seemed so sad, sitting there alone
with none of its cloudy- friends
and I pondered how this atmospheric outcome had occurred .

How was it that one, little cloud had been formed
in that particular area of the sky
with nothing to stand by it's side.

Like life, it had found it's way and existed .... just because
and so I parked my car in the driveway
starring up at the sky .... and the little cloud looked down upon me.

It was directly in front of my clear vision .....
as the day was very dry and hot
and the cloud seemed unmoving ..... just floating alone.

I imagined myself sitting in the middle of that fluffy cloud
looking down at the ground below,
how high up it was, one thousand feet, maybe more.

And I wondered what it would think about ..... if it could
looking down at all the people running back and forth
in their little cars, bicycles, motor-bikes and trains .

Somehow .... like little ants in an ant-hill tripping around in circles
yet somewhere between circles ...... solitarily
the little cloud remained distinct, in it's indefinite wisdom and mystery.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Children Are The Eyes Of The World

Behold, the eyes of the children
lovingly so we do say
one has to agree ... though
it does seem that way;
little noses pressed to door-screen
voices for all to hear
another cookie, our darling dears
making faces at hallway mirrors;
we love the blessed children
all colors and different blends
diverse in each their universe
a poignant message to send;
universal bearer of glad-felt tidings
the divine holder of truth
how easy to fondly remember
precious baby's first ... front tooth;
the simplest of our golden moments
right down to the deepest core
the eyes of our children
beloved ... cherished and adored;
bring peace to our torn lands
help guide us - rest assured
a prayer to all mankind
said ... all in a word.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Ghosts Of Canal Road

The icy waters in Simcoe County
told tragically of its tales
farmer’s fields were ploughed nearby,
facing the road without a rail
cars driven into the cold water,
unprotected casualties jumped the curves
helpless, sadly most would drown quickly,
as the deadly waters surged
over their heads, while drifting silently …
The Ghosts of Canal Road
valiant rescue attempts written vainly
in the coroner’s reports: foretold.

Juanita Tice Paulino

The Screw And The Nail

The aged man, reached for the screw-driver, beside the drill
“Put this nail in the brick”, his senile mind shrilled.
“She wants me to do it, please find me the strength.”
“ I’d rather sleep on the blue couch, my body’s so spent”.
Bridled with journeys of memories and errands of regret,
Self-pity and turmoil is what he could bet ;
On a near century of losses, albeit to no avail
The brick dust was upon him and his body was frail.
“Screw the nail in the brick now, it’s time to forget,”
“How tedious the game is,” while he sat on the deck.
He looked at the small job and the broken-down mop
Lying near to patio, leaving him quite distraught
Drill was down at his feet, and the task was not done
Mustering, all of his strength, he glanced up at the sun;
Screw the nail in the brick and the meek will prevail
As he held in his trembling hands … the screw and the nail.

Juanita Tice Paulino

copyright 2008