Axe Dance

Rolling Axe

Boom Chicka Wah Wah

I rub you.


Krismas in June

Da night bepor Christmas
An all tru da house
Nating pas
Not eben a mouse.

Da children dey nossie
all snog on da ploor
An Mama puts newspepper
Tru da crack on da dor.

Den Mama in da stobe
Roost up da manuk
Steer up da adobo
An make bake da biko.

Den out on da rud
Dey got such a clatter
Soun like old manong
Pull down da ladder.

I run so past
To open da dor
I trip ober da dog
An pull down on da ploor!

As I look out da dor
In da light ob da moon
I thinking "apo, you cresy
I'm gitting old too soon."

Becus dere on da rud
Wer I turn my head
Dere's eight carabao
Pulling a sled
An a little driber
Wit a big ishtick
I know right away
must be St Nick.

Mob paster an paster
Da carabao dey come
He wistle an holler
An call dem by nim:
"Oy, Boogy!
Oy, Ninoy!
Oy, Dong!, an' Bebe!
Ay, Inday!
Ay, Melda!
Cory, an Maria!"

To da top ob da porch
To da top ob da wall
Crawl da carabao
An dey neber pull.

Uncle Onsing's pighting chicken
Ober da rooptop he ply
Wen da big dog
He running by

Up to da porch
Da carabao he clim!
Wit da sled pull of toys
An St Nicklas behin.

Den on top of da porch roop
It soun like hell
Wer all dem carabaos
Sit down on der till.

Den down da chimney
I yill por long time
As St Nicolas pull down
An sit on de pire

"Jesus-Maria-Sep!", he exclim
"My pant hab a hole
Wen I sit down
On da rid hot coal,"
An jump like a cat
out to da ploor
Where he lan wit a splot!

He was dress in pur
Prom his head to his poot
An his clothes dey all dirty
Wit ashes an soot
A sock pull ob playting
He trow on his back
He look like a boorglar
An dats por a pahct.
His eyes how dey shine
His dimple, how mirrey!
Mebe he alredy drink
Da wine prom da birry.
His chik was like a rose
His nose like a chirry
On secon tought mebe
He drink up da shirry.

Wit snu-white chin wisker
An quibering billy
He shik wen he lop
Like da strubirry jelly!

But a wink in his eye
An a shake ob his hid
Mik my compidence dot
I no nid to be skirred.

He don' talk
He juss go to his woork
Put playting in sock.

An den he turn wit a jerk
He put bot his han
On top ob his hid
An look up da chimney

An den he said
"Wit all dat pire
An dat burning hot plim
I no go back
De sim way I kim."

So he run out da door
An he clim up da roop
He is no pool
Por to make one more goop.

He jump to his slid
An crock his big wip
Da carabaos mob down
An don mik one slip

An I hir him shout loud
Wit da carabaos he ply
"Mirry Christmas to all!
An to all a goodbye!"

Third Eye Poems

The third eye notices when Abbie spilt juice on the rug and said it was Lizzie.

The third eye notices when you tell your mom you brushed your teeth for two minutes and you only brushed for one.

The third eye notices when you're supposed to be doing your homework and you're listening to music.

The third eye sees when you're on the phone for five minutes longer then you're supposed to be.

The third eye can tell when you have ice cream for dinner.



The third eye sees the invisible pole that you are just about to walk into.

The third eye sees the invisible monster who you can see.

The third eye sees everything you do so he knows what you did last summer.

The third eye sees your name written down but it doesn't know the number for 911.

The third eye sees you writting down his name but he doesn't know how to spell IT.

The third eye sees that he is blind.

The third eye sees that it's being disrespected so he will see you to your funeral.



The Third eye sees the wall pretending to be a door.

The Third eye sees the math genius using a calculator.

The Third eye sees Bill sneaking money.

The Third eye sees Wade eating stolen food.

The Third eye sees strange people hiding food in New York, Boston, and Tokyo.



The Third Eye sees the Three Blind Mice with their tails still on.

The Third Eye sees the cow jump over the moon.

The Third Eye sees grizzly bears dance ballet.

The Third Eye notices Hannah eat one million dumplings.

The Third Eye notices Chelsea's bunny play with Peter Rabbit.

- Hannah

The Eyes Have It

"Let her have Harvey," suggested one of the nurses, smiling.

I had been talking to the attending physician about which patient I should take next.

"Oh yes," the attending said. "You'll love Harvey. He's a doll."

As a second-year emergency medicine resident, I rotated through several hospitals --which meant that it took me much longer to get to know the regulars.

Harvey was a thin, pale, white man in his mid-forties. He was clean but still somehow looked disheveled. The only remarkable feature about Harvey was his eyes, which were astonishingly clear and blue.

"I'll take him to the eye room," the nurse said to me, and Harvey followed her, quiet and obedient.

"What's the story that everyone but me knows about this fellow?" I asked.

"Take a look at his file in the computer," the attending said. "You'll see."

Harvey had been in the emergency department a total of seventy-seven times within twenty-three months. Every chief complaint was ocular - "painful eye," "scratched eye," "reported burn to right eye." It went on and on.

"This is incredible. This guy's been here over seventy times in two years, all for eye issues."

The attending smiled. "Just wait til you meet him."

When I walked into the opthalmology room, I saw Harvey in his seat by the ocular lamp, wringing his hands.

"I'm Dr. Finkel. What brings you here today?"

Harvey looked anxious.

"I have paint in my right eye," he said. "I brought the paint brushes to show you."

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"An hour ago. I brought the brushes to show you."

"I see," I continued. "And how do you know that you got paint in your eye?"

"I could feel it immediately!" he exclaimed defensively. Harvey seemed irritated, and crossed and re-crossed his legs several times. "I brought the paint brushes to show you."

I decided I'd better look at the paintbrushes.

He reenacted five or six times how he accidentally turned the paintbrush toward himself momentarily and how, consequently, the paint was hurled into his right eye.

"Let's take a look then," I said. I didn't want to offend him again in any way.

Harvey knew the eye exam as well as I did, and he sat remarkably still throughout, something most patients find uncomfortable.

"Where do you live, sir?" I asked as I worked.

"A few miles away. I work at the supermarket on the corner. I work forty-six hours a week. I like my job. I like to paint even better but I can't make money doing that." Harvey barely moved his mouth as he spoke, never once interfering with my exam. "I feel some of that paint in my right eye for sure."

"Do you live alone?"

"Yeah, but my sister lives next door. She has two children. I paint their faces," Harvey said. "I can still feel that paint in my eye."

I reached for the opthalmoscope attached to the wall.

"How old are your sister's kids?" I asked as I looked through the scope.

"They're five and seven. I hope that paint isn't going to hurt my eye," he said. "I like to paint their faces and other people's faces too."

Harvey continued to talk, and as the exam proceeded, I concluded that there was absolutely nothing I could detect wrong with either eye.

I was afraid to tell him the good news.

"Well Harvey," I started, "The paint in your eye has dissolved without causing any damage. Both of your eyes look fine now. What do you think?"

"Okay," he sighed. "I'll just use those eye-wetting drops like usual then."

"Do you have a way home?" I was surprised at how well he was taking the news of his good ocular health.

"Yeah. My sister's outside. I brought some new pictures. I gave them to the nurse, Marci. Thank you doctor." And with that, Harvey left.

Around 4:30 in the morning, when things had quieted down, I went to see Marci in triage.

"Harvey was here today...he told me he had brought some pictures he made. Do you know where they are?"

"Yeah. I put them in there with all the others." She pointed toward the drawer behind her.

When I opened the drawer, I found a stack of portraits - some were painted, some sketched. One was drawn in crayon. The subjects in Harvey's portraits were men, women and children of all ages, and each was unique. There was only one thing that all of Harvey's subjects had in common. None of them had eyes.

Dr. Michelle Finkel is an attending in the Emergency Department of the Massachusetts General Hospital.theeyes_haveit