Cold Things

Soft chilled feet
At bedtime, playful

Crystal mountain stream
With plunge, excited

Frigid dusty snow
In teasing, innocent

Clear glacial lake
From ropeswing, daring

Strong winter breeze
Through hair, unbound

Cool wet cloth
On forehead, feverish


Ken Goree


Good, cold things.

Happiness, not a poem

I am very happy, and content.  All is well, in my world, now; now that I am able to post to my blog again. Thank you all for sending me copies of "The Lost Poem," AKA I Don't Feels So Good.

Lousy Waiter

I am not a waiter

It’s not my kind of thing

Sit around and wait for warmth?
No, I want my Spring

When it’s planned to go someplace
The walls I’ll surely climb

For Heaven’s sake, be ready to

Be in the car on time

And when I want to post my blog
To keep with my commitment
The site won’t work, my hands are tied
Sheesh, I’m trying to be consistent


Ken Goree

I’m writing this poem as I wait (grrr) for the blogging site to be back up and running.  Wednesday’s poem was deleted through their maintenance process, but they say it will be loaded back in.  Thursday’s poem is sitting on my computer, wishing it had been posted yesterday, and This poem is hoping to go online today.

Penny For

If I had a penny for
Each poem that I wrote
I think you all can see right now
That I would still be broke

But if I had a penny for
Each time that one gets read
I could buy a nice computer
And type poems there instead

And if they all got read by
Each person on the planet
I’d have a lot of money, but
I think I would get stagnant


Ken Goree

I Don’t Feel So Good

I woke up today and thought
I don't feel so good
My tummy's making funny sounds that
I don't think it should


My daughter said two days ago
"I don't feel so good
She gave me her germy germ, which
I don't think she should


She's all better now, I think, but
I don't feel so good
I really want to work today, but
I don't think I should


I should eat some food, I think, but
I don't feel so good
Holding wide the big fridge door, no
I don't think I could




Ken Goree


I think that poem pretty much explains itself.