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.

Strict

My bedtime is very strict
but I don’t fuss, kick or shout.
Because when dad turns out the light
I simply sneak out.
***
Without my parents knowledge,
I’ve done many great things.
Once, I helped a ringmaster
in his show of three rings.
***
Lion tamers, the clown car,
the human cannonball.
Elephants, trapeze artists
we directed them all!
***
I’ve ridden with the chief
of the fire department.
I tended hose on scene
of a burning apartment.
***
I’ve worked hard as a deck hand
on a river tugboat.
We muscled freighters around
that looked to large to float.
***
I’ve extracted venom
from cobras and rattlesnakes.
Caution, patience, speed
and steel nerves is all it takes.
***
I’ve joined the crew
of an underwater welding team
and bound oil pipes together
with a perfect seam.
***
I’ve worked as a baker
making bread, pastries and pies.
I’ve decorated cakes
of every color and size.
***
I’ve worked as an arborist,
caring for city trees.
There’s nothing like pruning branches
in the summer breeze.
***
You’re wondering how I take
these adventures each night?
Easy. I read nonfiction...
with my hidden flashlight!

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

Song

There’s a song in the air
it’s a wonderful thing!
A song so wonderful
you can’t help but to sing!
***
Robins do, while building nests
of branches and string!
Chickadees do, as they hunt seeds
quick on the wing!
***
The green grass does,
as it pops straight up with a zing!
The tree buds do too,
as they explode with a ping!
***
The dandelion does,
proclaiming he’s the king!
Not many can deny
as to yards he does cling!
***
The tulips do, as they shoot forth
like on a spring!
The daffodils do,
as they emerge from their sling!
***
Honeybees do,
as to the hive, pollen they bring!
Bumblebees do,
bumbling and too happy to sting!
***
Mama cow’s bell does,
it sounds an announcement ding!
After calving,
it sounds off a triumphant ring!
***
Kids on the playground do,
they give their coats a fling!
They spin the merry-go-round
and soar on the swing!
***
And what is the title
of this song that we sing?
Why, the title’s just one word...
and that word is “Spring!”

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

Hiding Place

As St. Pat’s Day approaches,
here’s a little lore,
of where the leprechauns
keep their best stuff in store.
***
First, you might think
of where they keep their many keys.
I’ll tell you it’s not
on the belt above their knees.
***
Their flask of Irish whiskey
is not in their coat.
It’s in a good hiding place
that’s far more remote.
***
You might wonder
where they keep their tobacco pipe,
and their tart, green apples
until they’re good and ripe.
***
Their money purse,
that is filled with trinkets of gold,
is tucked away neatly
in this top secret hold.
***
Their potions and powders
to play their sneaky tricks
are kept in close at hand
ready for an up-mix.
***
Their rabbit’s foot, clovers
and other lucky charms
are kept safe from prying eyes
and grab-grabby arms.
***
There are some who think
the hiding place is his hat.
But I can officially say
it is not that.
***
Perhaps a knapsack
he carries on his shoulder?
I can tell you this,
it’s a much safer holder.
***
Have you now given up?
Are you all done guessin’?
Here’s the answer
to this little man lore lesson:
***
This secret of secret
leprechaun hiding place
is literally the beard...
that grows beneath his face!

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

Fine

I was just out of high school
buying my first car,
I was gonna hit the road
but didn’t get far.
***
I handed over the check
expecting the keys,
instead the salesman said,
“Let’s talk about fees.”
***
“This check almost covers
your new set of wheels,
but you owe a bit more
our attorney feels.”
***
“First on the check list,
is a thing we call “the spare”.
Us providing it for free
just doesn’t seem fair.”
***
“On the bottom of this page,
it’s written right here,
“Buyer responsible for spare.”
Now, that seems clear.”
***
“It also mentions
the tire iron and jack.
Without these two
you might as well put the car back.”
***
“You’re a graduate,
and probably got good grades,
I’m sure you know
the importance of wiper blades.”
***
“Well, you’ll notice on this page,
in this little spot,
that you must pay for them
before you leave the lot.”
***
“A battery is something
you can’t do without,
this line indicates payment
before you pull out.”
***
Next, out of his desk drawer
he produced the car keys.
“I know you’re anxious, Son,
and really want these.”
***
“Now, I’m not a gambler,
but I would make a bet,
along with your main keys,
you’ll want an extra set.”
***
I just looked across the desk
and nodded my head.
He then produced a bill
with the total in red.
***
“Now that we’ve looked things over,
I think you’ll agree,
that this 400 bucks
is a marginal fee.”
***
I opened my wallet
and parted with my cash.
I felt like I’d rather
just throw it in the trash.
***
As I drove off,
I formed a lesson in my mind,
and sharing it with you now,
I feel inclined:
***
The next time you sign something
here’s a little hint.
Before you ink the bottom line...
read the fine print!

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

Doom

I was eating breakfast
this fine Saturday morning
when my mom struck me with news
that came without warning.
***
“You, young man, when you finish
eating your Frootie-Oh’s
are going straight to your room
and putting on old clothes.”
***
“Yes, Son, we’re adventuring
into a cold, dark tomb.”
I looked up excited.
“Yes, we’re cleaning out your room.”
***
My hopes and dreams were crushed
I was resigned to my fate.
I finished my cereal
and the toast on my plate.
***
With my chin on my chest
I marched slowly to my room.
My mom followed, whistling,
and dragging the vacuum.
***
She went straight to my dresser
And right before my eyes
she started tossing things
that were no longer my size.
***
My first T-ball jersey,
my green and blue swimming shorts,
my red hoodie and more
went to a rag bag of sorts.
***
The next thing I knew,
my mom was underneath my bed.
Into the trash went toys
and comics I hadn’t read.
***
Next she turned her full attention
to my coat closet.
My windbreaker and some shoes
made the trash deposit.
***
She went straight through my room
like a whirling tornado.
She even tossed out my gun
that shoots a potato.
***
An old baseball, a checker game
with pieces missing
and a whole lot more
that to goodbye, I was kissing.
***
One sure way to have your best stuff
meet a dreadful doom,
is to have your dear mother...
help clean up your bedroom!

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