Gold

My treasure chest is filled with gold.
         Gold... gold... gold.
Vagabond's gold and drifter's gold...
Worthless, priceless dreamer's gold...
Gold of the sunset... gold of the dawn...
Gold of the shower trees on my lawn...
Poet's gold and artist's gold...
Gold that can not be bought or sold...

                   Gold.

("Gold" by Don Blanding in his book of poetry Vagabond's House)

Peephole Mouse

Here's a poem I started quite some time ago and never finished. I was just going through my quotes book/ dream journal/ random inspirations of the moment scribbles when I rediscovered it, so thought I'd share it on here.

"Peephole Mouse"

Quietly a peephole mouse

gleans all he needs

from those ignorant tenants he keeps.

How can such a small landlord

make use of all their spoil?

...easy.

A look around during the night 

and everything wonderful found!

A fine lady's glove ought to be perfect

for a lace curtain or two,

and the gentleman's pipe,

though dreadful to lite,

gives warmth for a glorious stew.