The Wilson's unexpected Bar-b-que

I thought I saw a spaceship; bright and round

land in the neighbor’s yard

But when I arrived it was not to be found

Not a fragment, tidbit or shard

I looked all around but the lawn was just fine

Every tree, bush and shrub in its place

But the patio was set with a table to dine

And the Wilsons?  Not even a trace

I went in the house to ask if they knew

Of the lights or the crash of the ship

But the butler and maid said they had not a clue

For the master had taken a trip

If that is the case, I said with a frown

Who’s planning on coming to lunch

For the table is set and the silver laid down

There’s an ice-ring afloat in the punch

The two of them stopped and whispered in trills

Then pointed directly at me

I gasped as I noticed their faces had gills

And their fingers -  were only three

“You’re not the Maid or the Butler,” I cried

“You’re not from this planet I fear”

What have you done with the Wilson’s I pried

But then they began to draw near

It’s children like you we enjoy so much

They said as they walked my way

Please don’t leave, we’re about to have brunch

And we’d love it if you chose to stay

But I didn’t fall for their alien lure

And ran out the door in the back

I said no no no, I’m leaving for sure

I won’t be your alien snack

 Copyright 2015 Tom Terbush

Sonnet #1

I knew a man who ate a fish quite nice

He ate it with his knife and fork of lead

And even though he covered it with rice

He ended up quite positively dead

They buried him outside the town of Pence

And planted flowers red and white and pink

Around the plot’s a white cast iron fence

But when it rains the air begins to stink

So if you visit Ned McDoogle’s grave

Be sure to bring along a handkerchief

It’s not to offer up a goodbye wave

Or wipe your eyes of overwhelming grief

But firmly placed upon your nose so well

It covers up poor Neddy’s awful smell

 Copyright 2015 Tom Terbush

The Path

The poet of the ages scripting pages of my life
Painting endless possibilities of dreams
He designs a great adventure and he lays it at my feet
Yet the hope - too unbelievable it seems
For the present circumstances of the cage I live within
Try to suffocate the vision of the verse
Though the paragraphs of living are but all within my grasp
I envelop and embrace my present curse

I can almost read the words like stones beneath my feet
They're revealed - and then - they disappear
For my past becomes a noose and it wraps around my hope
And the sentences of promise die in fear
Yet I know there is a choice - a road less traveled just for me
But can I kill the limitations in my head
Or dare to never change and stay the same for years to come
With the knowledge of my story never read

Peel away the darkness from my eyes
Open up my mind to see the subtle lies
I know that you have come to set me free
Let me taste the life you've written just for me

Copyright 2005 Tom Terbush