Dream Weaver: Poetry, Anecdotes and Short Stories

By Suellen Florer

Want it all? Then this is the book for you.

Poetry, a tapestry of emotions, but always ending on an uplifting note.

Anecdotes, humerous yet thought provoking.

Stories that will give you a roller coaster, of fear, fun, family issues, and even an Australian ghost story.

All this woven into the complete book for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suellen Florer
• Release date: Dec 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9780646831763

Book preview

A Platypus’s Pondering

Which creature am I meant to be?

Looks like I could be one of three.

A duck’s trademark is his bill.

The male duck (drake) is spurred on heel.

Yep! Well I have those all right.

Jeez, this spur would be good in a fight.

Now, wait a minute, what’s this—fur?

That’s stuff belonging to a cur.

A dog! No! that can’t be right.

Good God, I don’t even like to bite.

Talking of God—Hey God! What’s the go?

I feel like you have jerked me to and fro.

All these spare parts you tacked together,

(About the only thing you missed is feathers)

Don’t really go together at all.

And after all a platypus is kinda small.

To have all these bits on me,

Everybody laughs, "Come and see

The spare parts animal.

You don’t have to pay.  It’s free."

Then there’s that beaver tail down there.

Do you think that’s really fair?

Oh well! I guess with that through the water I can sail.

But Jeez—did ya have ta squash it in the mail.

Ah well! I suppose it’s all right,

After all I guess ya mighta made me,

At night!

A Cat’s World

Sunlight’s fingers tap the cat’s nose.

Wrinkling he stretches forward,

Reaching for the sun’s warmth.

In pure contentment he slowly arches his back,

And nonchalantly slides into another morning.

A clock chimes, a door squeaks,

Slippers shuffle from within.

Cat springs to life,

Leaving the window spot in sun.

Food calls!

Human’s morning has just begun.

A Church’s Tale

A blade of light spills to the floor.

Through a crack it squeezes in the old oak door.

This church so old has tales to tell.

Even death is sounded by its own brass bell.

Come sit with me and listen awhile,

For the tales of youth will make you smile.

Long ago, my floor where now tiles may be,

Are rough-cut boards carved out of a tree.

Placed even they were to make a floor,

But gaps between them this old church wore.

In summer it was fine when breezes flowed through,

But winter’s cold hands turned parishioners’ legs blue.

The gaps they intrigued Jimmy, a young Irish lad.

In church often bored but not a bad lad.

One day when praying, all lined up in rows,

Jimmy’s boredom increased, imagination then grows.

What can I do to make time pass by,

For outside when playing, time just flies.

Noticing two gentlemen kneeling before,

Two sets of coat-tails lie on the floor.

This was a chance that couldn’t be missed,

So in Jim’s pockets he jammed both fists.

His fingers they nimbly search around,

And an idea was born when in his pocket he found,

A nail! Rusty? True, but sure and sound.

All manner of things in boys’ pockets are found.

Taking each coat-tail he poked it through the floor,

Jamming nail and material through the gap in the boards.

Now snuggly secure each gentleman was trapped,

Each thinking the other, so long kneeling, napped.

My friend, when he arises, off my coat he will be,

And gladly, I’ll get up off these very sore knees.

As each tried to rise he was trapped by his brother,

So he knelt with a sigh and waited for the other.

Eventually, anger on both sides grew,

And it was clear to all this would turn into a blue.

Jimmy was enjoying the antics before,

Each man trying to extract himself from the floor.

Voices were raised when the swearing began.

The minister