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.

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Since the weather’s changed
so has my morning commute,
and you’ll find on each foot
a sturdy, black gumboot.
***
My walk to work now
is described as springtime mush,
the first challenge my boots meet
is late-winter slush.
***
Squishing through the slush
makes you feel satisfied,
also, with my gumboots
through the puddles I stride.
***
Puddles can be wide or narrow
shallow or deep,
and I just power through
like I’m an off-road Jeep.
***
Along with the puddles
there’s tons and tons of mud,
it’s a challenge for my boots-
adventures in crud.
***
The morning grass is wet
and it’s growing up fast,
without my boots
my pants cuffs and socks wouldn’t last.
***
The Canada geese are back
they like the sidewalks,
they leave their bombs behind-
no, they’re not pretty rocks.
***
All these springtime hazards
my gumboots navigate,
though there is one obstacle
that I truly hate.
***
They come when it’s wet
to the sidewalks they wriggle,
soon the entire walkway
appears to jiggle.
***
There’s nothing that makes my skin crawl
or my flesh squirm,
than a spring morning walk…
and stepping on a worm!

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

Should
“When the red, red robin
comes bob, bob, bobbing along!”
This could certainly be
the “announcement of spring” song.
***
And as a robin myself,
I know the signs of spring
and they’re a lot more
than just a robin on the wing.
***
The days now should get longer
and the nights should be warm.
Old Man Winter’s now older
and he should have no storm.
***
Daffodils and tulips
should be poking out green beaks,
the ice should be breaking up
on the banks of the creeks.
***
We should be seeing green buds
on the branches of trees,
and we should see the emergence
of house flies and bees.
***
On the playgrounds
the little girls should chase little boys,
and all us male birds
should be making lots of noise.
***
And now that we’re on the subject,
of returning birds,
we’d all be less confused
if we were reading Greek words.
***
You see, Old Man Winter
just didn’t leave easily.
To us migratory birds
it was quite weaselly.
***
You see, our summer homes
were under two feet of snow.
Now we are all wondering
if we should stay or go.
***
Blackbirds by the frozen pond
where the geese just can’t land.
No playground chases,
tree branches still a barren hand.
***
No daffodils or tulips,
solid ice on the creeks.
Many robin sightings
reported these last two weeks.
***
As for us robins,
there are plenty of us around,
but the sign of spring we seek…
is some uncovered ground!

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

The Leprechaun Dance
After a mid-March rain
I searched the woods with a friend.
We were out exploring
for the rainbow’s magic end.

***

We entered a green glade
bordered by a winding stream.
Where against a stump
a little man was deep in dream.

***

He wore brown shoes, gray socks
and green pants tight on his thighs,
a sports coat, beard
and a green hat covered his eyes.

***

As we gazed on
a magical rainbow did appear.
It rested on the stump
and there was the gold-quite clear!

***

As quick as a wink
and before the man could awake,
we raced to the stump
and the pot of gold we did take!

***

As soon as we removed
the round black pot from the stump,
the little man leapt
and did at least a 6 foot jump.

***

“My word and willy wigs!
You two have taken my gold!
But before you trot off
there’s something that must be told.”

***

“My name is McKinzey
I serve the leprechaun king.
Why don’t you trade the gold
For tickets to his spring fling?”
***

My friend and I looked at each other
and said, “Why not!?”
We turned ‘round and handed
McKinzey the iron pot.

***

He took the gold, jumped
and clicked his heels together.
From his sleeve he produced
us each a peacock feather.

***

“Now, both of you follow me!”
McKinzey saying out loud.
We jumped on the stump
landing in a leprechaun crowd.

***

We looked around
and saw the king sitting on his throne.
He motioned for us
by his staff with emerald stone.

***

“Good morning dearies!
Welcome to the spring fling of mine,
head over to the table
and get in the food line.

***

We loaded our plates high
with wild game, nuts and fruit.
We sat and enjoyed a band
of bagpipe, harp and flute.

***

After the band ended
we stood and joined hand in hand
while the king played
the strangest instrument in the land.

***

He blew into it
and at the same time plucked its strings.
While he did that
he tapped on it with his eight gold rings.

***

The eating and dancing
carried on throughout the day,
as well as some leprechaun games
we both got to play.

***

With a whole lot of luck
we were each deemed a winner,
when the King announced
we’d better get home for dinner.

***

But before we parted
we each received from the king,
a solid band of gold
a leprechaun friendship ring!

***

With a wave of his staff,
we were standing in the glen.
We raced back on home
happier than we’ve ever been!

***

This is a true story
and each detail precise,
so my dear friends,
I’ll offer up this piece of advice:

***

“Go find a pot of gold
if you ever get the chance,
then traded in for tickets...
to the leprechaun dance!

Dominic "Flominic" Farrenkopf
thesepoemsneedhomes@live.com
flominic.com

Woes
It’s Oh-Dark-Thirty
on an early Monday morning,
if I knew what was coming
I’d have liked a warning.
***
My oatmeal was bubbling
nicely on the stove-top,
I stepped away to the bathroom
and came back to slop.
***
My pot boiled over
and ruined my morning grub.
I just finished cleaning it
when I thought of my tub!
***
I was running a bath
before my oatmeal mess,
and where the water level was,
was anyone’s guess.
***
I raced up the hall,
while water flowed under the door.
I shut off the faucet
and threw towels on the floor.
***
While sopping up the mess
I heard more water running.
I left the kitchen sink on!
And, no, I’m not funning.
***
There were soap bubbles
and water flowing out the sink,
I turned it off
and started coffee so I could think.
***
I went to the pantry
looking for a dry towel,
I got back to the kitchen
and yelled something foul.
***
I switched on the coffee
but the pot wasn’t in place.
Coffee ran down the cabinet,
as tears ran down my face.
***
A watched pot never boils
so the old adage goes,
but not watching your pot…
can lead to even worse woes!

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

The Ice Queen
I stand on my parapet
seeing the land below.
I am the Ice Queen,
my kingdom is covered with snow.
***
I look up and down the walls
of my mighty fortress.
They are both tall and thick,
its gate kept by my portress.
***
I survey my moat
and hear a faint metallic clink.
For my subject’s children
it doubles as an ice rink.
***
Down in the bailey
my people perform their duties.
I watch the farrier
as he shoes my white beauties.
***
These two stalwart white stallions
are my horses of war.
They carry me to battle
while on the wind they soar.
***
In the portcullis
I see the changing of the guard.
The commander checks their swords,
sharp, steely, cold and hard.
***
In the side yard to the west,
my archers hone their skills.
In the side yard to the east,
my soldiers run their drills.
***
In my castle’s keep
the lords and ladies sip mulled wine.
They listen to harpists playing
both soft and divine.
***
While walking the battlements
toward the corner tower,
I caught sight of one
who surpasses me in power.
***
“Karen, it’s time for supper.
I know it’s a hassle.
You sure are working hard
on building your snow castle.”
***
“I’ll come inside, Mom.
Truthfully I’m a little cold.
I’ll come out tomorrow
and lead a quest for Hicks’ gold.”
***
You can be queen of a castle
and its royal court,
when you have an imagination…
and a snow fort!

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

Forecast
When I woke up this mornin’
my house was freezin’ cold.
To make things worse
I had an empty firewood hold.
***
I went to the kitchen
to make a hot pot ‘a joe.
I turned the water faucet on
but it wouldn’t go.
***
It was at that moment
that I knew my pipes were froze.
I switched on the TV
and went to put on more clothes.
***
The weather was on,
the topic was rapid temp change.
I opened the oven
to heat the house with the range.
***
The TV man said
the temp would continue to drop,
and according to the forecast
the snow wouldn’t stop.
***
It was at that time,
I went and looked out the back door.
There was three feet of snow
and it was now pushin’ four.
***
I grabbed a cake pan
and shoveled my way to the shed.
I grabbed an armload of wood
well taller than my head.
***
The weather man said,
“The wind is now picking up force,
and it just makes sense
the wind chill is dropping, of course.”
***
I put my bathroom heater
underneath the crawl space.
I needed to thaw my pipes
and yes, it was a race.
***
The TV now shifted
over to the road report.
It seemed to be going fine
until they cut it short.
***
“White-out conditions exist.
Folks, get inside and stay.”
I looked right at my TV
and I had this to say:
***
“I’m bringin’ in more wood
cause outside it’s still stormin’.
Can you guys forecast…
some of that there global warmin’?”

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