I‘m not sure what I’ll do with this, or even where it came from, but I really wanted to share.

Last Friday my muse tapped me on the shoulder and begged me to write this. I was hard at work on something else, but she is a playful minx and I try to indulge her whenever possible. Fortunately, my schedule could accommodate the diversion. The first stanza rattled around in my head and was quickly followed by the rest.

The rhyme tackles a topic that’s been on my mind a lot lately, especially as Cindy and I continue to develop content for Children Write the Future, though it is admittedly not very well explored. I’m sure at some point it will turn into something more pointed and specific, but for now I am happy with how wonderfully unexpected and off schedule this little rhyme was.

Enjoy!

Tomorrow is coming, one spin of the globe
More future to filter, new problems to probe
Education is lacking – now cracking and crumbled
We started so strong, but then somewhere we stumbled

Old backwards feels forwards, threads fraying toward fail
What once was ahead is now trapped as our tail
Someone get a medic, don’t dally. Go run!
From daycare to college – knowledge 911

Penicillin’s for killing a viral disease
But reality’s gravity’s dropped us to our knees
What sorta solution or fusion of fixes
Can take our twos and our threes, multiply ‘em to sixes?

It’s a lot of monotony – this mind-numbing stage
Keeping planet potential locked up in a cage
There’s interest that’s nested inside of the heads
Of millions of children, so long as it spreads

Mom and dad need to get a bit mad and then moving
If we expect to collect a situation improving
What will our kids think of the present presented
If it isn’t what it should be, then won’t they resent it?

It’s time to get going. No reason to stall
Let’s bust down each brick in the barrier wall
That’s casting the rules of our schools in antique
Dulling our tools, slowly turning us weak

We’re procrastinating and waiting for why?
So much of our NOW we’ve yet to apply
If we don’t get going, adopting new skills
Then pillage the village and head for the hills

Without a revision, division’s impending
It’ll come out of nowhere and feel never ending
Demand more today, so tomorrow will double
With twice the advantage and half of the trouble

Yes we can do it, but only together
All of us standing no matter the weather
Draught, flood, tsunami; arid, rain, snow
One-hundred and ten to well forty below

If we all command it, then it will be done
Four faces, all aces, our future is won
Do all you can and do it your best
If everyone follows, that takes care of the rest

Writer Dad

On a day so calm, under sky so blue,
Just like in a fairy tale, though this story’s true,
A mommy and daddy brought a girl to their world.
She was tiny and perfect. Her small body curled

Into a comma until she stretched out;
Giggling, and sniffling, and wiggling about.
Her eyes were so bright, her skin like fresh cream.
She was the beguiling answer to their beautiful dream.

She looked as full as a promise, so that’s what they said,
When they named her that night, as they lay in their bed.
They looked on their newborn, with nothing but love,
As pure and as still as that blue sky above.
A flawless gift given, she demanded respect.
Mom and Dad must be mindful, and know what to expect.

They were both wise, to indeed understand:
All life is exciting, though all life can’t be planned.
It can be prepared for, so that’s what they’d do.
I know this story’s fantastic, but it can work for you.

Living is quite costly, and they shouldn’t spend too much,
Buying things they didn’t need, and drifting further out of touch.
Savings are important, especially when you’re young –
If you wish to climb life’s ladder without slipping down a rung.

As Promise grew, her needs would too. Pressure would surely mount.
Before we get too busy, let’s pause and start to count:
College, car, a wedding day; plus, Mom and Dad could bet,
Promise would need at least ten things, not invented yet.

Now here’s the rub – the problem large, at which Mom and Dad were staring:
How could they do what should be done and keep their daughter caring?
They wanted Promise to have the World, while staying nice and gracious;
Like living in a one room flat, and thinking that it’s spacious.

They did not want to spoil her, or cause her head to swell.
No, Promise must be humble and she must treat others well.
They would keep her savings secret, until she could understand,
That the finest things in life are those you gain with your own hand.

The road was long in front of them. They would have to start their walk.
Mom and Dad had a cup of tea and a long and winding talk.
They had to save more money, but they had none left to save.
They would need to change some habits, and financially behave.

A little isn’t much until time prods it toward a lot.
Just keep adding, rain or shine, and soon that’s what you’ve got.
Mom and dad, each one had, some things they could improve.
It’s the little things that mean a lot when you work to fiscally improve.

Dad went to the Jolt-N-Bolt to help him stay awake.
He loved their roasted coffee and the muffins they would bake.
Mom bought lots of magazines and fancy haircuts too.
She quit with both these luxuries; the least that she could do.

Day by day, Mom and Dad, gathered all their extra cash.
At the end of the month, a BIG surprise, look how much they had stashed.
Three hundred bucks, and yes I know, it sure sounds like a lot.
But let’s add lots of time on top, and then see what we’ve got.

When you gather lots of money, your horizons are uncurled.
That’s why compound interest is the Eighth Wonder of the World.
At three-hundred a month, for five straight years, they now had twenty-five grand.
Let’s not get too excited. Instead, let’s watch these funds expand.

Three-hundred a month, was now one-fifty a week, because their interest grew.
What an amazing secret, they thought. What if everybody knew?
Mom and dad kept squirreling dough in all the falling years,
Saving money helped them shed unnecessary fears.

They never gave attention to what everybody knew.
Especially with their Promise watching everything they do.
They never spent their dollars on a heap of useless stuff.
When their Promise asked for more, they said, “No, you’ve had enough.”

Let’s skip ahead now, several years with Promise nearly grown.
Mom and Dad are perfectly proud with the qualities she has shown.
A humble girl, just as they wished. They had taught her many things –
Like how to think intelligent, and how to spread her wings.

Promise was a modest girl, always willing to work hard.
She never failed to pay herself, with her own debit card.
She looked ahead, toward her brightest future yet to come.
It was almost time to leave for school, and that’s a mighty sum.

But Promise insisted on paying it all – every tuition bill
(Even though she was clueless she was worth a quarter mil).
Just three-hundred a month could add up to that? How could that possibly be?
It’s the miracle of compound interest. Keep on reading and you’ll see.

Let’s jump ahead seven years. Promise is twenty-five.
She is brilliant, bold, and beautiful. She is vividly alive.
She had found someone with whom she wanted to share forevermore,
But weddings were expensive; a fact that she could not ignore.

Promise had saved just enough for the day inside her head.
She wanted things to remain quite simple, at least that is what she said.
Promise still had no clue what lay quietly in wait –
One half a million dollars, by her pending wedding date.

Our tale concludes with another five years piled on our story.
Promise and her husband had worked to finalize their glory.
They had a house and baby too, a descendent of their own.
Someone they could love and cherish until he was all grown.

Promise was an angel. She was diligent and kind.
Her family’s future never strayed too far outside her mind.
Mom and Dad were ready to tell and fully confident,
That thirty years of saving had been three decades nicely spent.

Just three-hundred a month, every month, in Promise’s account,
Had blossomed, bloomed and burgeoned into a generous amount.
For Promise, and her family, the sum was oddly strange.
Living life was mostly a cinch with a million bucks and change.

Writer Dad

This was a Halloween poem Dave and I did last year. It was one of our very first collaborations ever, you can even see we used the name Collective Inkwell at the bottom, almost a half year before the site went live. I thought it would be fun to run the poem again for Halloween.

Enjoy!

Abumchuk the buffalo, well his bum was all red,
So he rubbed on some butter and then went to bed.
When he woke in the morning, well to his surprise,
He’d grown a new forehead and six sets of sad eyes.

Abumchuk the buffalo could do nothing but weep.
He shuddered and shivered and then fell to sleep.
When he woke the next morning, new sun in the sky.
Well Abumchuk discovered, Abumchuk could fly.

It was odd when the buffalo was turning all weird,
But then the notion of weird, well it disappeared.
A buffalo that flies with six sets of sad eyes
And a red bum of butter that birthed the surprise,

Well that’s probably as weird as you think it could be.
But you’re only saying so because you haven’t met me.

Excerpt taken from an upcoming book of art and poetry co-authored by David Wright.

I’ve entered a contest where the winner gets a six month gig blogging about happiness. I would LOVE to land this gig. Voting takes less than five seconds and you can vote once per day. Click here to cast your vote. THANKS!

Ten long weeks of summer have all but disappeared
Exactly as we’d hoped for and precisely as we feared.
Our littlest is growing, not quite as little these last days.
Though he is amazingly ready for new kindergarten ways.
His smile says he’s ready. His green eyes do agree.
And though we are excited, there is a bit of sad debris.
It’s not that we aren’t happy; we know he’ll be a star.
He’s a lion of a learner and that’s sure to take him far.
He writes his name, knows his math; he tells time and he reads.
And he has an awesome teacher who will understand his needs.
We are sending him to learn things that are way out of our reach.
A second tongue that Cindy nor I would be able to teach.
Exactly like our daughter, he will soon be speaking Spanish;
Roll his tongue and twirl his R’s as his accent starts to vanish.
YES we are excited, and though our hearts are thrilled
All the agents of nostalgia are slowly getting killed.
Like right now at this moment, Cindy’s by my side.
I’m asking for suggestions as tears begin their downward slide.
Our puppy’s barking louder and pretty soon he’ll be a dog
And we don’t want to live these last few moments in a fog.
Our kids are both in school for good in just a few days more.
We’ll grab the camera, load the car and lock the front house door.
We’ll drop him off and wish him well – into his teacher’s care.
And then we’ll leave the classroom and breathe in some brand new air.
The first book of our story in that second turns its page
To the final when our foursome steps into a brand new age.

Writer Dad

One year ago today I got a ping in my inbox from a total stranger. Over the last twelve months, that stranger has become one of the best friends I’ve ever had and an invaluable member of my family.

One year ago I would never have believed it possible that meeting a stranger online could effect my life so dramatically and with so much immediacy.

But I was wrong.

Thank you Dave for helping me find a future without ceiling and for being a tireless ear for all my dreams and random ramblings.

It was one year back, and yeah those months had been crazy -
I’m not like a dude who lives a life to be lazy,
but the ceiling right above us wore a weight that was CRUSHING.
And this part of the parable will prompt me to blushing,
’cause we were conjuring loco, me and my spouse,
’bout hanging a GONE FISHING sign up on the side of our house.
The preschool that we had, it was a beautiful blast,
but something we were ready to release to our past.
Our children were growing like it was two days for one;
evolutionizing all our definitions for fun.
Cashing out our chips and playing our hand,
yeah, but meeting my match, you see that part wasn’t planned.
I met my online brother on the 20th of Aug,
but did not yet know it’d be like a wheel to a cog.
Elegant machinery has moved since that day,
altering my life in a significant way.
Working with a partner’s like drawing 3 out of 2,
with someone always pulling all the best out of you.
Working with a friend is even better than that,
’cause you develop your own rhythm in a rat-a-tat-tat.
With Dave it’s been a bit of both, like berries and cream
a confident, creative and collaborative dream.
Oh yeah, I’m a dude. I guess I’ll manly it up now
Spit tobacco, hitch my belt, and furrow my brow.
Hammers, machine guns, vikings and lions.
Boxing, steak, Rambo, and half naked Hawaiians.
Thank you buddy for a year that has been filled with art.
A little bit of humor and a lot of your heart.
It’s cool beans but cooler; it’s Sam Jackson in snow.
It’s been a helluva year and I just thought you should know.
I appreciate your talent, your ethics and praise;
your kindness and your candor; all your creative ways
of saying and sketching and drawing it out -
ensuring our ideas don’t dry up to a draught.
Our first year was awesome,
this next is all IMAX in 3-D.
Let’s blow the baby up to be the best it can be.

To celebrate our first successful year, Dave and I have rebooted both our office and workshop. Check out the new digs at both Ghostwriter Dad and the Collective Inkwell today.

Writer Dad

Happy anniversary, these 8 years with you
Have been a medal, a trophy, a ribbon that’s blue.
The reasons lie nestled in the nest of routine
Our forwards and backwards and our in between.
The eighth year is bronze, but to me that feels third,
And considering your character, a little absurd.
I’ll get you some bronze (I do love tradition),
But I’ll also spend time as a verbal musician;
I’ll think up some thoughts and lay down a list
Recording some moments since when we first kissed.
Already wide, your eyes have grown wider;
The color of shadows atop apple cider.
I picture them now as I gather these cheers,
One written down for each our eight years
Our first year was bliss, baby beneath skin,
She’d wear your eyes above her daddy’s grin.
In the second year elation elevated our weeks
As we learned to be parents and look for life’s peaks
That third year, my goodness, a new baby boy
Beaming and buoyant and jumping for joy.
The fourth year we hitched up and got out of Dodge
Sold our apartment and found a new lodge.
The fifth year a preschool where we both could teach
and enjoy both our children within easy reach.
The sixth year harmonic, with us side by side
Rich in a way that no bank could provide.
The seventh year – inspiring – with nary an itch,
The ditty of our daylight played in perfect pitch.
This eighth year was awesome (and a little bit strange)
Filled with evolution and plenty of change.
Yes that’s all eight years, but I’d feel unfinished;
Partial and patchy, deficient, diminished,
If I didn’t rewind all one dozen years
To when our sweet nothings first filled our four ears
Year one you found me and made me believe
In a lyrical love I could barely conceive.
Year two we sealed it and shared all our space,
Packed up and payed all our rent in one place.
Year three we frolicked and scampered and skipped,
As our life unfolded like a well written script
Year four we found our own perfect flat,
Emptied our savings and stepped up to bat.
That’s when the pages turned to chapter two
In the story of us, both me and you.
These last eight years were magic, surely they were,
Though they scurried right by in a blink and a blur,
But those first four were golden and gilded the rest,
Foreshadowing suggestion that I’d have the best.
I love you Cindy, you’ve given me all
12 of your winters, spring, summers, and fall.
You’re the mom to my babies and best friend to me
I give it right back. Happy anniversary.

Country Bear, City Pup

Cletus was a country bear
who loved fresh and open country air,
and sky that reached so wide and far
he could sit and gaze on every star.

Cletus loved his life.  He praised the pace;
Preferred to stroll instead of race.
Quite content in his cozy town.
Comfort was his favorite noun.

His puppy pal Preston, from long before,
had always longed for something more.
One day he split – no glance behind -
in search of something new to find.

Preston was cheery, living deep in the city,
in a three room pad, both petite but pretty.
But the only glow that lit Preston’s sky
were the helicopters THWAP- THWAPPING by.

They stayed in touch, our dog and bear.
Of each other’s lives they stayed aware.
Cletus smiled and scratched his fleas
as he wrote about his life of ease.

One sunny day, Cletus went to the post.
and found a letter from Preston, who’d left his coast.
He was coming to visit and would be there real soon.
The following Tuesday, at a quarter to noon.

Cletus was beaming.  He loved his old friend
and all of the time that they used to spend,
just talking of nothing, then doing it all day,
until the last of the sun simply faded away.

Cletus cut some fresh flowers, made a big roast.
Then waited for Preston so he could play host.
The next Tuesday arrived and true to his word,
Preston flew in to town like a flurrying bird.

Cletus jumped up and down, then hugged his old friend.
He was super excited about the time they would spend.
Preston started to prattle, but his words flew too fast.
Like they were shoved in a cannon, ready to blast.

“Let’s go to a restaurant or take in a show.
The ball’s in your court, Cletus.  Where should we go?”
“Well, I don’t know, Preston,” Cletus said kind of slow.
“I was not thinking of any place we should go.

I was thinking that maybe we would just watch the sky,
so we could see the next hundred clouds that pass by.
Then when we’re done, we can sit on my stoop
as the sun goes away and the sunflowers droop.”

Preston just frowned.  He didn’t like this at all.
He wanted big and this sounded small.
“You should come to the city,” he told his old friend.
“Where the days go on long and the nights never end.

There’s so much to do and so much to see.
Let’s go to the city, Cletus.  Go there with me.”
An amiable bear, Cletus grinned and agreed,
and they headed for the city with immediate speed.

But Preston kept racing, and racing so fast,
that Cletus saw nothing of all the something they passed.
Preston laughed loudly.  “You’re not missing much.
Just ginormous fields of big blossoms and such.”

Cletus just sighed.  He really loved flowers.
He had been known to start sniffing, and lose track of his hours.
What kind of life must his old buddy lead?
Did he ever slow down; take some time just to read?

Had he ever spent one day preparing one meal,
reminding his taste buds just how they should feel?
Had he gone to bed early and rose before dawn,
so he could watch the first sunlight washing his lawn?

There were too many things you could easily miss
if you gave life a hug instead of a kiss.
Soon the country was gone, the sky shrank in size,
And buildings touched clouds in front of their eyes.

The sounds of the city were seriously splitting
to the ears of an old bear used to just sitting.
Cletus was large, but right then he felt small,
standing in the overshadowing shade of it all.

Preston was thrilled and he started to bark.
Cletus said, “We should get started before it gets dark.”
Preston placed a thrilled paw on his friend and then said,
“Don’t worry old bear, it’s a long time until bed.

About the time of the day, well buddy, you’re right,
but most of these places stay open all night.
We can start with some shopping, then sit down to eat.
I know this place that just opened.  We’ll go there – my treat.”

“Okay,” Cletus said as he followed along.
Everybody wants to feel as though they belong.
The two critters did everything Preston put on their list.
There was not even one thing that either had missed.

“Wasn’t that great!” Preston Pup said.
“Not really,” said Cletus, shaking his head.
“People are different.  No two are alike.
You love your car, but I love my bike.

I go to bed early and you stay out late.
You are impulsive.  I’m willing to wait.
You like excitement and I like things still.
I hike up mountains while you race down hill.

You love loud movies.  I’d rather read.
We are two different flowers from two different seeds.”
“What makes this world special is the difference we find,
in the way in which each of us works our own mind.

Some people like black, for others it’s white.
Neither are wrong and neither are right.
Some drink only coffee while others sip tea.
Life would be boring if we all agreed.

I’ll go back to the country and you can stay here.
But you’re welcome to visit whenever you’re near.”
Preston was quiet, and a little surprised.
What Cletus was saying, he hadn’t realized.

Just because two amigos liked two different songs,
did not mean that one of them had to be wrong.
“I get it, old buddy.  This burg’s not your thing.
You’d rather sit down and count minutes till spring.

I’m sorry we left early.  I was so impolite.
I’m probably wrong.  You’re probably right.”
I can learn too.  Perhaps I can unwind.
And grab a much needed break from this regular grind.”

“But even if later, I prefer things my way,
It is not even close to a cause for dismay.
I love you Cletus, because you are my friend.
If you don’t like what I do, you don’t have to pretend.

People are different and different is great,
But about you and me, buddy, there is no debate.”
They walked into sunset, puppy and bear.
Joyful and Jolly and without despair.

Life is made up of contrast and contrast is key
To living our lives to their fullest degree.

Writer Dad

Click here to get your own free copy of Country Bear, City Pup. Written by Writer Dad and illustrated by Lucy Huang.

Before starting Writer Dad, my primary purpose for the pen was writing children’s stories for the house full of children that Cindy and I managed Monday through Friday. I went on a three month children’s story binge, popping out a portfolio of rhyming ditties that have sat largely untouched for the last year and a half.

One of these tales was given breath earlier this year by the wonderful work of Lucy Huang, a remarkable freelance illustrator who is particularly interested in children’s books. Lucy wanted to draw something for children and asked if I would care to collaborate. I said sure and sent over one of my stories, “Country Bear, City Pup.”

Lucy took those thousand words and gave them the color that I never could have. The words might have inspired the drawings, but the look and feel of the design were all Lucy . It is a wonderful thing as a writer to see a world of your creation move from pallid black and whites to the beautiful hues that Lucy bestowed.

Thank you Lucy for your wonderful work.

If you would like to see some more samples from a wonderful freelance illustrator, please click on the link and check out some more of Lucy’s work at Lulu’s Design.

Country Bear and City Pup will be available as a free PDF on Thursday, compliments of Writer Dad and Lulu Design. Download it for free, print it out, and read it to your wee one.

Until then, you can enjoy this little teaser for Country Bear, City Pup – also cooked up as a courtesy by Lulu’s Design.

See you Thursday!

Writer Dad