This is written for my nephew, I, with love…
“The Gingerbread Boy” by Jill Ocone (Copyright 2016)
Wearing his pointed hat of red,
Waited with all of the other children
As the crowd counted down
From five with delight,
Then the lights came alive
As the star shined brightly
From atop the town Christmas tree on Main Street.
The Gingerbread Boy
Received a red balloon,
He held onto its ribbon
As it danced in the air
While the band played “Let It Snow”
With snowflakes swirling in the light shining
From the town Christmas tree on Main Street.
The Gingerbread Boy
Climbed into the red carriage,
The clip clop
Of the horse’s feet
And the jingle jangle
From its bridle of bells
Rang out as the horse turned about
Near the town Christmas tree on Main Street.
Suddenly the sirens screamed
As the parade of red firetrucks,
Decorated in lights
Arrived to deliver
Their Christmas cargo
Who dismounted from his ladder perch
Next to the town Christmas tree on Main Street.
He belted a joyful “Ho Ho Ho”
The big man in red,
Then the Gingerbread Boy
Through his twinkley eyes
Watched in wonder
As he winked while welcoming him.
The magic was real and
The Gingerbread Boy believed
By the town Christmas tree on Main Street.
I went to a Yankees game in August with my brother, my sister, my two nephews (5 and 2 years old), and two family friends. It was Star Wars night, and what a night! It was the boys’ first Yankees game, and they got to see the “real” Darth Vadar, Chewbacca, R2D2, Boba Fett (and yes, he was the REAL Boba Fett in my eyes and I was on Cloud Nine), and lots of other characters. We also witnessed a Yankees Grand Slam by Starlin Castro in their victory over the Indians. It was an all around wonderful night, one of the best nights of my life.
We were in our seats early to see the parade of characters on the field, then shortly after, the game began as the sun descended into dusk.
The 5-year-old, H, said to me, “Look at that firefly. He’s going towards the lights.” and he pointed to a buggy that was flying around.
I replied that I bet that firefly had a lot of stories to tell, living here at Yankee Stadium…and that got me thinking.
This is written for you, H., with love.
“The Firefly at the Baseball Game” by Jill Ocone (Copyright 2016)
A firefly named Sly lives up in the sky,
The lights are his stadium home.
He wakes at sun break then a tour he will take.
He will fly and he’ll spy and he’ll roam.
Over the field, his journey will yield
Green grass and the dugout and more…
The bases, the races, and all sorts of places
Will be full of the players at four.
Sly dives as he flies as the baseballs and guys
Begin to appear in the air…
The cracks of the bats and the blue baseball hats,
The strikes and the fouls and the fairs.
The outs and the bouts and the fans do they shout!
And Sly joins the crowd’s standing wave.
He’s bright as he lights and he loves all these sights…
The legends, the rookies, the brave.
Sly swirls as he twirls as the balls also whirl,
Whizz by and are hit oh so far.
Sly cheers as he steers from the bleachers…he’s clear…
Another home run by the star.
Sly flies as he dives in his own special guise
We won! We did it! Oh, yay!
Sly rests in his nest and watches the guests
And the players go home for the day.
It’s soon by the moon our friend Sly he will swoon,
He’ll dream that he’s one of the guys…
Running the bases, and walking the places,
His own home run up in the sky.
Crystal waves of
Still and then flowing,
Churning and then surging,
Erases the day’s debris
From the shore.
As night turns into morning,
The tide recedes
The body of
The cure to whatever ails,
Christens a brand new day:
Each blue drop
a tiny part of the
Huge blue vastness
“Water” by Jill Ocone, July 9, 2016
By day I wear my mask,
The light emitting a facade,
Plain conformity to
Blend in with the masses.
By night I wear my self,
The dark emitting the truth,
Colorful rarity to
Stand out from the masses.
Which is which,
I don’t know.
They all blend into
One black shapeless
I made a decision to write something different today. Copyright Jill Ocone, July 6, 2016.