Poem Home

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Welcome to our landing spot highlighting the many poems from Flominic, who also is known as Dominic Farrenkopf. His poems will appear here regularly through the year. Weekly you can also find a printed copy at Chapter One Book Store in Hamilton. For many, many other poems check his website.

A Night Out

My little brother and I
have a yearly trip,
it always ends abruptly
which is quite a gyp.
***
We pack all our supplies
for a full night outdoors,
everything from hot dogs, drinks,
snacks, and of course, s’mores.
***
Our campsite’s not far
our small legs rejoice for that.
For the last four years
we’ve had to throw in the hat.
***
It’s the same every year.
Once the darkness seeps in,
the night noises frighten us
with their awful din.
***
We’ve never stayed the night,
‘cause we succumb to fear.
We’re resolved to stay
and finally make it this year.
***
As we set out,
our dad issued a grim warning.
“‘Twelve missing campers’
was the headline this morning.”
***
“Are you up for it boys?
Or do you want to quit?”
“We’ll make it through, Dad.
Cross our hearts and hope to spit!”
***
We set up our camp
and cooked on the campfire.
As dusk fell
our situation became dire.
***
Off to the left,
the bushes began to rustle.
We jumped in the tent
with a super-fast hustle.
***
Now we heard grunting
and pawing up of the ground.
We got in our sleeping bags
while making no sound.
***
It was then that we heard
a blood-curdling screech!
Then our tent started shaking.
Would there be a breach?
***
A high-pitched howling
now pierced the dark summer night!
My brother and I screamed
and ran with all our might.
***
We raced across the yard
and made it to the house.
Our mom let us in and asked,
“Now where is that louse?”
***
“Who are you talking about,
and why are you mad?”
“I’m mad at the scare tactics
of your dear, old dad.”
***
“You mean it was dad out there,
making all that noise!?”
“Yes he does it every year
to both of you boys.”
***
“Now run off to your beds
and get a good night’s sleep.
I’ll wait up for your father,
the childish creep!”
***
Our boogie man father
makes it extremely hard
to make it through the night…
just camping in the yard!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Colleague

“I’m only ten years old
where I play in little league,
and at this time I will mention
our finest colleague.”
***
“The colleague in question
is a stalwart and tough soul,
where a level playing field
is his only goal.”
***
“He started the season off
with the dreaded try outs,
where he endured proud parents
and their promotion shouts.”
***
“Oh, c’mon, man!
My kid was head and shoulders above!”
“Sir, I hate to say,
your kid can’t tell a bat from glove.”
***
“Now we had a team.
It was time to name positions,
and again our colleague
was faced with hard conditions.”
***
“Oh, c’mon, man!
Don’t stick my kid out in right field!”
“Ma’am his arm’s not strong enough,
from that I won’t yield.”
***
“Now we had a schedule
and a tournament to play.
And once again, our colleague,
was caught up in the fray.”
***
“Oh, c’mon man!
Are you gonna take that call from Blue?
Go get all up in his face,
‘cause that’s what I would do!”
***
“The season wore on
and the comments were all the same,
where our colleague was often
given a rotten name.”
***
“Oh, c’mon man!
You could have changed the batting order.”
And “You didn’t play my kid,
‘cause he’s a bit shorter!”
***
“This stuff was typical
and went on without reason
but if not for our colleague
we would have no season.”
***
“So, Dad. You’re patient
with a political approach,
and I can’t thank you enough…
for taking time to coach!”

Happy Father’s Day!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Forever

I had a dental appointment
at two thirty,
and if you say it right
it sounds like tooth hurty.
***
That describes exactly
my lengthly procedure,
brought to me courtesy
of Doctor Besieger.
***
Two weeks ago
I sat here for a tooth cleaning,
now I would discover
torture’s truest meaning.
***
I had a cavity
is what the dentist said,
now I sit here waiting
with a heart full of dread.
***
Besieger came in
and didn’t even explain,
he just did a deep dive shot
of some Novocain.
***
The dentist didn’t wait
for it to take effect,
the more patients he had
the more dough he’d collect.
***
With Besieger’s thoughts
on the hundred dollar bill,
he had me open wide
so he could run his drill.
***
The pain of the drill,
coupled with its whining noise,
caused some wet tears to me,
one of the tougher boys.
***
Thankfully the dentist
finished up the job quick,
then ushered me to the toy box
for a prize pick.
***
There were leaking bubbles
and plastic tic-tac-toes,
and those cheesie glasses
with the mustache and nose.
***
There were wheelless cars
and poorly molded boats
“Hurry and pick,” he said.
He wanted more C-notes.
***
I took a kazoo.
“Did you learn something today?”
The dentist asked,
“About warding off tooth decay?”
***
“To brush and floss daily
making sure you don’t miss?”
I knew all about that
so instead I said this:
***
“No, at the dentist,
if you’re a really good boy,
for your grand reward…
you get a really cheap toy!”

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Forever

It’s finally arrived!
I take my seat in my home room.
When in comes the teacher
to announce impending doom.
***
“To finish out the year
we’ll take an inventory.
You’ll count all the books
and stack them by category.”
***
So we spent the whole hour
stacking weathered text books,
all the while receiving
the teacher’s gloating looks.
***
My next class was Chemistry
and the teacher had plans.
“Now, class, we’re washing beakers,
vials, and bunsen pans.
***
We scrubbed petri dishes
and all the other glassware,
we washed tables, sinks
and every laboratory chair.
***
My next class period
was in the computer lab.
The teacher had plans for us
other than just to gab.
***
“We’ve got monitors to clean
and dust covers to place.
We have some rat’s nest of wires
that I’ll have you trace.”
***
After that was Math class.
We cleaned all the marker boards,
we wiped down all the desks
making us out of our gourds.
***
In English Literature
the story was just the same.
We swept and mopped the classroom-
I tell you it was lame.
***
This same routine carried on
for the rest of the day,
and though I’m not bitter,
I do have just this say.
***
“It seems all the teachers
want misery to rule,
so they work us like dogs…
on the last day of school!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Square

In little league they teach us
to stand at the plate,
keep our eye on the ball,
and for our pitch, to wait.
***
I stepped right up
ready for the pitcher to throw.
His aim was really off
and he hit my elbow.
***
The home plate umpire
told me to go to first.
I shook it off
figuring this wasn’t the worst.
***
The very next time
I was in the batter’s box,
I ended up
with another one of those walks.
***
I was standing tall
like I was supposed to be,
when an errant pitch
made hard contact with my knee.
***
I just walked it off
and hustled down with a burst.
I thought inside,
this probably isn’t the worst.
***
My next at bat
I was determined for a whack.
‘Til the first pitch went wide
and hit me in the back.
***
That one stung me really hard
and I almost cursed.
But kept it under my breath
as I jogged to first.
***
My next time up that game
I stood ready and tall,
and square in the shoulder
I was hit by the ball.
***
Are they out to get me?
Has this game been rehearsed?
I couldn’t help wondering
as I ran to first.
***
I was now familiar
with this walking routine,
and at my last at bat
we did make quite a scene.
***
“Keep your eye on the ball!”
came my coach’s advice.
I was watching closely
and really paid the price.
***
The pitcher threw the ball
and on it, put some zip.
I couldn’t duck down
and it hit me in the lip.
***
The umpire gave the signal
that I should walk.
I turned to him
and started a casual talk.
***
“I’ve been beaned every time
that it’s my turn to bat.
I’d like to propose something
in this little chat.”
***
“I think I should get
plenty more than just one base,
‘cause that wild pitch…
just hit me square in the face!”

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Feathered

On an early spring morning
there’s a cheery sound,
“Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up…”
Red Breast sings around.
***
He’s calling for a mate,
Robin answers his call.
Red Breast chirps again,
puffs his chest, and stands up tall.
***
Robin’s enamored
and cozies up to Red Breast.
They love each other
and decide to build a nest.
***
They pick a forked branch
deep inside a lilac bush,
and right away they start
with the nest building push.
***
Red Breast goes fetching
little twigs and tufts of grass.
Robin rounds up the mud
and builds with his each pass.
***
She keeps the soft grass
on the inside of the bowl.
A great pad for her chicks
when out their eggs they roll.
***
Her perfect little eggs
will be a bright sky blue,
she’ll warm and guard them
with a mother’s love so true.
***
And as she adds grass,
to the mud that she’s making,
Robin plucks her tufts
for some special care taking.
***
Her plumage will make
for the softest of pillow,
softer than even
a springtime pussy willow.
***
“Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up…”
she works to his song,
knowing her precious clutch
will shortly be along.
***
Robin wants everything
to look its utmost best,
as she prepares for her young…
with a feathered nest!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Ploys

It’s three in the morning
when she heard a loud thump.
Now startled from her sleep,
out of bed she did jump!
***
She heard another thump,
the sound came from the roof.
It was quite concerning-
she couldn’t stay aloof.
***
She rushed to the front lawn
in time for her to see,
her boys tying bedsheets
from the house to the tree.
***
“Hey! Get back inside!
And Boys, are those your new jeans?”
“Aw, Mom, we’re just playin’
United States Marines!”
***
It was Saturday night
the boys were in the bath.
It was too quiet
for Mom’s calculated math.
***
She investigated
and found quite a muddle.
Her boys had created
a bathroom floor puddle.
***
With towels on the sides,
they filled it to the brim,
and having a contest
on how fast they could swim.
***
“Hey! Clean this mess up
before I really do scream!”
“Aw, Mom, we’re just playin’
United States Swim team!”
***
She sopped up the water
and sent them straight to bed.
She walked down the hall
thinking and shaking her head.
***
She thought of the escapades
over their few years.
She laughs of them now,
but back then had bouts of tears.
***
A frog farm in the attic,
mud fights in the street,
black oil tracks in the garage
made with bare feet.
***
Fireworks on the carpet,
kidnapped chicken,
backing up the car,
making her panic stricken.
***
She knows for certain
that she hasn’t seen it all.
Daily she resolves
to be there for the long haul.
***
Often falling victim
to mischievous ploys,
are the saints of society…
mothers with boys!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Spent

On a whim I took a drive
to my childhood home.
I knocked on the door
and asked, if around I could roam.
***
The owner was polite
and permitted my request.
I crossed the yard and fence
towards the pasture to the west.
***
There’s a small ditch
beneath a huge ponderosa pine.
I stepped over the ditch
and suddenly I was nine.
***
I’d jump up high and grab
the lowest branch of the tree.
I’d pull myself up and climb
‘til miles I could see.
***
I would sit in the tree
if I needed to simmer.
The pine always pointed me
to hope’s twinkling glimmer.
***
Near the pine was a larger ditch
that cut the field.
I looked up the ditch
and saw the crab apple yield.
***
There were two large trees
where crab apples were abundant.
I thought of their spring blossoms-
never found redundant.
***
When the trees brought forth
their apples in the summer time,
I’d pluck them, and ditch float them,
at the peak of their prime.
***
I’d launch them from the ditch bank
like ships leaving the pier.
They’d fall to the ground too,
a treat for whitetail deer.
***
Across the big ditch a ways,
was a sizable pond.
I gazed across to see
three aspen trees just beyond.
***
I strode quickly towards them
as memories flooded back.
I had to get to the fort-
we were under attack!
***
The three aspen trees grew tall
in a tight formation,
and served as my tree fort,
cock pit, and crow’s nest station.
***
The ladder boards were still nailed
tight to the tree trunks.
I climbed up two of them,
they seemed to be sturdy hunks.
***
As a grown man now,
my head was above the platform.
I thought of tree house picnics
held in the sun, so warm.
***
There were battles fought and won,
and great adventures had,
in the jungle, the sky,
on the sea, all as a lad.
***
The green leaves rustled
and reality floated back.
I climbed down and began walking
on the return track.
***
As I moseyed on back,
I relished my memories,
of my childhood here…
And my time spent with the trees!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Queen Mandy Lion

In a deep valley
that was always lush in spring,
Queen Mandy Lion
wore the matriarchal ring.
***
She ruled with kindness
but also a firm hand,
and was well-respected
through the entire land.
***
When April did arrive,
the warm weather did not.
“There is something amiss,”
Queen Mandy Lion thought.
***
Just like many things
Queen Mandy Lion was right.
The answer came by visitor
late in the night.
***
As she readied for bed,
a knock came at her door.
She went to answer
but heard a creak in the floor.
***
The queen turned ‘round
before giving the door a pull,
and there in her chamber
stood a short, evil troll.
***
“Who are you?” asked the queen.
“And how did you get in?”
“The name’s Bumpel.
I come from the line of Stiltskin.”
***
Mandy said, “You seem bold
for such a little lad.
Weren’t you at all afraid
I’d be extremely mad?”
***
“I knew you’d be mad,” Bumpel said,
“and yes, I’m bold.
It’s my way to harvest
double buckets of gold!”
***
“Gold!?” she cried.
“I wouldn’t give you a single piece!”
He said, “I’m afraid
Spring’s warm breath, I can’t release!”
***
“With a spell I’ve concocted
I’ve locked Spring away.
If you want him freed,
it’s Bumpel you’ll have to pay!”
***
He sang, “Look into my eyes!
They’re as black as death!
Relinquish your gold
or I’ll not release Spring’s breath!”
***
Bumpel danced an eerie jig,
laughed, then disappeared.
Queen Mandy was stunned,
and inside, was deeply feared.
***
The Queen fretted all night
and hardly slept a wink.
She stayed in the next day
so she could rest and think.
***
That night Bumpel returned.
His warning hadn’t changed.
He delivered his rant
then vanished, all deranged.
***
He sang, “Look into my eyes!
They’re as black as death!
Relinquish your gold
or I’ll not release Spring’s breath!”
***
So, the queen spent another
cold and sleepless night.
She went out the next day,
checking on Winter’s bite.
***
Queen Mandy felt firsthand
Winter’s harsh, icy grip,
when by her right ear,
she heard a familiar, “Zip!”.
***
It was Bella Buzzing,
Queen of the Honey Bees.
“Queen Mandy, I’m worried
‘bout this extra-long freeze.”
***
“My workers wintered hard
and our reserves are low.
We’ll have no supplement
if we still have this snow.”
***
“Without us honey bees
the pollen won’t be spread.
Without pollen passing,
there is a certain dread.”
***
“Yes, Queen Bella,
I know winter’s not over yet,
and now it’s time I address
an imp and his threat.
***
Queen Mandy returned
to her palace’s bedroom,
and waited for Bumpel
to visit in night’s gloom.
***
Mandy was ready
and prepared to pay ransom,
to this withered troll-
neither charming or handsome.
***
When the darkness seeped in
Bumpel appeared again.
The Queen wasted no time,
“Alright, Bumpel, you win.”
***
“I’ve prepared for you,
two buckets of gold pieces.
I’ll turn them over
when your hex on Spring ceases.”
***
Bumpel jumped straight up
and spun around in the air,
he danced to the terrace
as though he had no care.
***
Bumpel sang, “Deep in my eyes,
a fire lives there!”
Sparks flew from his fingers,
“Spring! You’re now in the air!”
***
He turned to the queen
and reached for the first bucket.
Before he could grab hold,
Queen Mandy did chuck it!
***
With a great swooshing sound
Mandy flung out the gold!
She emptied the second bucket
out in the cold.
***
The coins fell in the dark
and slipped beneath the snow.
In Bumpel’s eyes
a raging fire did now glow!
***
He stamped his foot hard,
a gap opened in the floor!
He stamped again and fell through!
Bumpel was no more.
***
All that night, Spring’s warm breath
caressed the frozen land.
The snow melted as the sun rose,
like the Queen planned.
***
All over the green grass
golden circles glistened.
Queen Bella approached,
grateful Queen Mandy listened.
***
Bella’s bees swarmed down
harvesting the gold’s power.
Overnight, the coins became,
a tasty flower.
***
Queen Bella proclaimed,
“Hail, Queen Mandy Lion!
You’ve saved the Honey Bees!
You’re a dandy lion!”
***
Now each Spring
the yellow flowers are abundant,
we’ll close this poem
hoping to not sound redundant.
***
Thanks to the great wisdom
of Queen Mandy Lion,
the bees were saved by what’s called…
the dandelion!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

The White Bunny

As Easter Day approached,
I prepared our family fest.
I now sought out some ideas
on my app called Din-trest.
***
There were some cute ideas
for coloring boiled eggs,
for kids’ Easter baskets
and for some tasty treat bags.
***
They had fun game ideas
other than Easter egg hunts,
including a baseball egg game
with peeping chick bunts.
***
There were great recipes
for spiral cut honey hams,
and five simple steps
to make puréed carrots and yams.
***
These things were nice
but what I really wanted to make,
was a white chocolate, coconut
bunny rabbit cake.
***
I got the ingredients,
including jelly beans.
My family would love it,
‘specially the kids and teens!
***
I mixed up the batter
and poured it into the pans.
After it was baked,
I cooled it around tin cans.
***
I cut out the ears and feet,
and then tried the tail.
The knife edge slipped
resulting in an epic fail.
***
I began frosting the cake
but I did it too quick.
Some crumbs peeled off
as the frosting started to stick.
***
I kept applying frosting
which just caused more mistakes,
I hoped to cover them over
with coconut flakes.
***
I sprinkled the coconut
but it was all clumpy.
I used the whole bag
and now my rabbit was lumpy.
***
To look like grass,
I used dye on the coconut shred.
The green dye wicked up,
it now looked like a lettuce head.
***
For the inner ear,
I used red dye that was a dud.
It too wicked over
giving the appearance of blood.
***
I then put two blue jelly beans in,
one for each eye.
Right away their color ran
making my rabbit “cry”.
***
I stepped on back
to survey this culinary mess.
Out loud to myself
I did wholeheartedly confess,
***
“This looks more like an alien
in a fit of rage,
than it does the white bunny cake…
on my Din-trest page!”

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Yield

I woke up feeling squirrelly
on this early spring day
I quick-stepped outside
and caught the morning sun’s first ray.
***
Over in the side yard
a red robin hopped around,
he proudly chirped and chirped
as he picked worms from the ground.
***
Two small, young bunnies
rummaged beneath the bird feeder.
They wriggled their noses
as I called them each, “Peter.”
***
A cool breeze swished by
rustling branches with buds.
They would soon by leafed out
and showing off their new duds.
***
Now a chickadee chirped
while pecking sunflower seeds.
He flew off whistling
and dropped the husks in the weeds.
***
I knew I had a little extra time
so I brought my coffee outside.
Spring was now clearly here,
winter had no place to hide.
***
I went back inside
so I could get ready for work.
Though it was tempting,
all my duties, I did not shirk.
***
I took a shower, got dressed
and finished up each chore.
I grabbed up all of my stuff
and strode out the side door.
***
I breathed the fresh spring air
for my lungs ‘twas a massage.
My view changed
when I rounded the side of my garage.
***
I stopped in my tracks and yelled,
“Old Man Winter, yield!”
Because there was white frost…
all over my windshield!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Neither

This morning my dad woke me
with a blasting air horn alarm.
I leapt out of bed and said,
“Really!? I could have bought the farm!”
***
I pretended to be miffed.
Dad laughed as he walked down the hall.
His laughing stopped abruptly
when my tripwire made him fall.
***
“Gotcha, back!” I yelled
and triumphantly got in the shower.
I stepped out and Dad nailed me
with a cup of white flour.
***
“Ha-ha, Sucker! Take that!”
My dad then confidently walked off.
As I got back in the shower,
I heard him splutter and cough.
***
I knew what had happened
and truthfully I felt mighty fine.
Before bed last night
I made his coffee pot a salty brine.
***
I joined him in the kitchen
and sat at my cereal bowl.
One bite and I spewed!
The milk was rotten as the devil’s soul.
***
The curdled milk wasn’t alone
in the rotted stuff trick bag.
He cracked for an omelette
and was surprised by a putrid egg.
***
With my appetite lost,
I then regained what I was able.
I picked my backpack up
to find it was screwed to the table.
***
My dad went for his car keys
but couldn’t get them off the hook.
I had zip-tied them in place.
My dad gave me a pleading look.
***
“Truce. I have to go to work.”
“Truce. I have to go to school.”
Neither believed neither…
‘cause neither was an April Fool.

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Crescendo

As the white snow melts
it reveals the muddy ground,
and if you look closely
a sharp green tongue can be found.
***
Now monitor that spot closely
as it comes to age,
you’ll notice more green tips
poking up as if on stage.
***
Now give it two more days
and you’ll have some stubby shoots.
They’ll be different heights
not unlike those silly pan flutes.
***
Now in another two days
all those stalks will have wings,
it’ll look like a green choir
where everyone sings.
***
In just a few more days
the stalks all wave in the breeze,
they bob up and down
like black and white piano keys.
***
In another couple days,
if they’re left all alone,
they’ll be long and straight
like a soprano saxophone.
***
Just a day after that
they’re really up to their tricks,
the stem and oval head
make them look just like drum sticks.
***
But they save the best part
right up until the end though
and that my dear friend,
is simply called the crescendo.
***
Right out of the oval top
the yellow petals spill,
it’s trumpet harkens spring…
the musical daffodil!

Dominic “Flominic” Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

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