Poems by James J. Murray

Or smother me in wilding meadows
That wave their awe in flowering yellows
Those fragrant tides of florets wide
Allow a gentle soul abide
Once there upon my humble knees
I'll pray the lord to grant me ease

And busy bees will stop to see
They'll look upon and pity me
And bring me honey from their hive
To sooth an ignorant man's revive
And butterflies in cabbage white
Will cleanse the soul and ease my fright

For when I rise for my reward
I'll go to where my Ellie lies
Not far from here just yonder there
Beyond the browses bye and bye.

Bestir in me an ocean birth where starfish twinkle bright in mirth
                    And crooner whales who fancy chance invite the mermaids out to dance
Where seahorses number in their scores will pull my coral carriage fore
                    And maiden sea-nymphs take my hand and set me on a coral stand
Thus when in place they'll ring its knell to which the oceans churn and swell
                    And thrust me forth in tidal currents that sweep the globe in winding torrents
To where up on some rugged coast I'll disembark and thank my hosts.

Clover will play when daddy's away and mischief is clear in her eye
She hops off the bed, she lands on her head - suddenly all is awry!

She's startled and woke with a horrible poke by a donkey with long yellow teeth
Who tells her in favor that she's quit his flavor - to marry her would be a treat

"I'll swoon you today with my beautiful bray, we'll be wed by the rooster in June
Then we will dine on the cheapest of wine and munch on the sweet golden hay"

"O you can't be serious? Am I delirious? What would my poor daddy say?
Marry an ass who is lacking in class - give sway to a dissonant bray
Be bought by the line of a neddys design? Slainte! For I must decline".

Clover took flight one winters night, to Aspen she was bound, to hit the slopes with powdered hopes and maybe - meet a hound!

On morning one she had great fun with Bailey from the coast, who spun her tales and wild regales that finished with a toast -

On morning two she meet Old Blue who told her to beware! For on the slopes there often lopes an "Insolent Young Hare"

"A glorified rabbit with a nasty habit of pooping on the snow, so when you go, please take it slow, or all could end in woe"

On morning three and full of glee the Boo began to ski, she swooshed and wooshed her little pooch all over Dipsys Lee -

While having fun with everyone, little Boo flipped upside down, she crossed her ski's and bent her knees, and landed on her crown -

All fuddled and muddled and needing a cuddle, Clover looked up in awe, for standing there without a care, that "Insolent Young Hare"

"What brought you up? You little pup! To where I strive to thrive, for it was me who bent your knee and sent you in a dive -

I've marked my hopes on these here slopes, hard work I do declare, yet skiers always moan at me and mutter in despair"

"O Mr. Hare, If I may dare? I'd like to be your friend, I hit these slopes with powdered hopes not meaning to offend -

"Well since your nice, take my advice and tell all those who'd dare, on these here slopes there often lopes this "Insolent Young Hare"

Little Clover gave a friendly smile and struggled to her knees, snow up her nose, between her toes, she blasted off a sneeze!

"O Hare my dear, I really fear your pooping is outrageous! You need a designated plot - a kind of super pooping spot!

A place designed as a retreat, away from skiers well worn beat - where private business has its seat"

"If I set aside this private place, and keep the slopes in snowy grace, will I make friends and ski with you, and drink a toast when the day is through?"

O Yes! For sure! If my names Clover! And many cheers did echo over - and to this day slopes stay pristine - Hare's secret stash is never seen.

As Boo took chase with focused haste, the squirrel ran up the tree. Once out of reach he began to preach, to Boo on bended knee -

"You awful mutt! You little scut! Why can't you let me be? And let me search from where I perch, without the need to flee"

Said Boo to the squirrel " You're a terrible feral! Who I just can't let be! You itch and twitch in wooded bliss and shake your tail at me -

Then shuffle and rustle as you start to hustle, and spring from tree to tree - How is it my fault? I seem to exalt, your innate need to flee"

In all the commotion the Boo had a notion to fleet for her afternoon treat. And early next morning as daylight was dawning, the squirrel was nowhere in sight -

He may have decided, to preach was misguided - to tarry would just be in vain. To linger and languish would just cause him anguish, and so he chose not to remain -

But Boo knew him better and thought him right clever, and felt he was not far away. She thought of his leaving as rather deceiving and he’d be returning some day -

Though sensing the moment, she beamed a great smile. Being free from that rodent - if just for while -