WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT WILL I BE?

WHAT ABOUT ME?
WHAT WILL I BE?
by
Ken Fortie

So many people accomplish great things.
Some conquer nations, some are great kings.
They have their dreams, they‘ve found a place,
They’ve made a name in this great human race.
A dream to fulfill, that’s what it’s about.
It’s great to be famous, there is no doubt.

What could I be, what work could I do?
What would make people take notice, like you?
I want to be known for some marvelous deed,
So they’d write my life story for people to read.
So many things that would really be fun . . .
Surely for me there’s just the right one.

A medical doctor would be quite the thing!
Whenever you’re sick, you could give me a ring.
I’d tap on your knee to give it a jerk,
Then tickle your tonsils to see if they work.
I’d dig through the wax to look in your ears,
To see if you’ve washed them in so many years.
But…

Being near sick people isn’t too pleasing.
I’d catch something strange and really start sneezing!
So…

Working for NASA would be best for me,
Finding new worlds in a strange galaxy!
In a lightning-fast spaceship I would take flight,
Traveling through space near the speed of light.
I’d meet with the leaders of worlds far away
And try some new foods at an alien buffet.
But…

Strange foods always give me a bad case of gas;
My friends would all hope that this too would pass.
So…

The job of a ranch hand, well that would be rowdy.
I’d greet folks in town, tip my hat, and say “Howdy!”
I’d tame wild broncos so they’d eat from my hand,
Then we’d round up the cattle to give them a brand.
I’d play the harmonica near the campfire;
Beans and starry nights are all I’d require.
But…

That bronco would probably buck me sky high.
I’d land on a rock on my head and I’d cry!
So…

I could be a great athlete, scoring each play---
Or hitting home runs, signing baseballs all day.
To the Olympics I’d go, winning medals of gold,
A marvelous feat for all to behold!
I’d be in the headlines all over the place;
Wherever I go, they’d notice my face.
But…

Me---a great athlete? No, there’s no way!
I’m simply too clumsy; it just wouldn’t pay.
So…

A top secret agent would be so exciting.
The thrill of the spy game would be quite inviting!
Going off to exotic lands far away,
Speaking new languages, s‘il vous plait (see vu play).
I’d spy on the spies who are spying on me,
Then charge the government a very large fee.
But…

What ever would happen if they found me out?
I’d hear bullets wiz by, without a doubt!
So…

I’d run for President, that’s what I’d do!
Then I would make laws for people like you.
I’d fly everywhere in my big fancy jet,
Ridding our country of all its bad debt.
I’d shake all the hands of the people I meet;
I’d even kiss babies and tickle their feet.
But…

If I said something wrong and I started a war,
Then I’d be the main person that people deplore.
So…

A fireman’s job would complete my great quest.
When I drive my big fire truck, you’d be so impressed.
I’d pull up to fires that are red-hot and blazing;
I would put out the flames while the people stood gazing.
I would rush in and save all the people inside.
I would even save kitties from the trees where they hide.
But…

Climbing up those tall ladders above the streetlights
Would cause me to shake, ‘cause I’m scared of heights.
So…

I could be a great chef making fluffy soufflé!
You would read my cookbooks and try it my way.
Exotic veggies I’d slice and arrange
Into flowers or other designs very strange.
On a PBS show I would make chocolate mousse,
And serve it on silver with flaming wild goose.
But…

I can’t even cook macaroni and cheese.
That fancy French restaurant wouldn’t be pleased.
So…

A submarine captain’s a job I would keep;
Through cold, dark oceans I’d silently creep.
We’d look for strange creatures lurking below,
And they would surround us with eyes all aglow.
To find golden treasure, we’d constantly look
For the lost, sunken ships of Blackbeard and Hook.
But…

If a giant squid’s tentacles squeezed us real tight.
I think you’d agree that would be quite a fright!
So…

A world-renowned artist, that’s what I am!
I’d paint a great portrait of the King of Siam.
I’d paint a still-life of a bowl with some fruit.
I’d sell lots of paintings and make lots of loot.
I could illustrate books; there would be nothing slicker.
The Caldecott people would give me a sticker.
But…

My still life’s and landscapes look kind of blobby.
Perhaps I should find myself some other hobby.
So…

I could join a great circus and become the ringmaster!
I’d crack a big whip so the horses run faster;
I could ride a big elephant whenever I like,
Or ride with the clowns on my miniature bike.
I’d swing on a flying trapeze so you’d cheer;
I could wrestle a lion without any fear!
But…

If we swung through the air and crashed into each other,
You would leave our bad show and go find another.
I’m afraid as a clown I would be rather boring,
You’d hear through the crowd the sound of much snoring.
So…

I could be a great pilot in a very fast jet,
Flying over the clouds into the sunset.
I’d tumble and spin and cut clouds in two,
Then around I would go in a curlicue.
My name would be famous; I’d be in demand.
To fly in the air shows would be very grand.
But…

If I crashed in the ocean, then I’d cry, “Boo hoo!”
And I’d have to swim fast, or I might be shark stew.
So…

I won’t worry right now; it’s all in good time.
I’ll develop my talents so I’ll make my dime.
Sometimes there are things more important than fame;
Being famous and happy aren’t always the same.
For now I have something I might want to try,
To make my heart sore and my spirit fly high.
I’ll just be myself and that’s quite enough.
I’ll be grateful each day for all of my stuff.
I’ll be kind to my neighbor and say something nice.
And make his day better; that should suffice.

The Christmas Story

The Christmas Story

By
Ken Fortie

Each Christmas we read the story anew.
A story that brings us closer to
The babe born in a manger far
Beneath a bright new shining star.
Where shepherds first beheld His face
The Savior of the human race.
Where kings brought gifts of myrrh and gold
And bowed in reverance to behold
A mother who held her precious child,
And kissed his cheek each time he smiled.
She laid him in a manger where
Both king and beast beheld him there.
This child that soon would wash away
The pain and sin of all who say:
Dear Lord I come to thee in prayer,
My sins are more than I can bear,
Thy tender mercy I require
To live with thee, my one desire.
Thy love a healing balm to me,
My broken heart, my gift to thee.

The Last Leaf

The Last Leaf
By Ken Fortie

Hot summer days of jumping through the sprinklers, they have flown.
The brilliant hues of autumn gone to mystic lands unknown.

Too soon the painted hillsides fade as leaves are whisked away.
What’s left are twisted branches that in storms speak only gray.

Old leaves, now pale, have lost their glow, piled high in shades of brown.
And used to soften landings when at last kids must come down.

But low, what’s this, up in the tree one leaf that still holds fast.
Its will to stay through winters chill and storm is unsurpassed.

The winter watch, a daunting task, this rugged leaf does keep.
It stays the course till spring doth rouse new buds from winters sleep.

As each new bloom bursts from its shell and moves towards the light,
The old leaf knows his time has come and readies for his flight.

He gives direction for the young and teaches them of fall,
But few give heed or care to hear his withered voice at all.

He turns away and with a smile he bids them all adieu,
They’ll have to make their own way now and work their troubles through.

The warmth of spring gives great delight to each new forming bloom.
They talk of all that lies ahead without a thought of gloom.

From whence does come the final wind that gives the branch its sway,
To tell that leaf, "release your grasp, you'd best be on your way."

His parting goes unnoticed, a mere shadow from the past,
No thought of wisdom's absence as he slips away at last.

What did that old leaf have to say, what stories could he tell,
We’ll never know, we had no care, when with us he did dwell.

The Life of Autumn Leaves

The Life of Autumn Leaves

By Ken Fortie

A nudge from winter’s waking breath sends shivers through the trees.
Leaves dawn their travel colors for a flight on autumn’s breeze.

Their summer job of shading from harsh sunlight is now done.
And with delight they find their new found freedom’s just begun.


So to the swirling wind they say, your wish is our command.
And memories of their travels, they are written in the sand.

While racing down the street their chatter makes a chilling sound.
And one by one they cast a spell on those who are earthbound.

Now out of breath they pause to rest their weary wings a tad
Then dash away just one more time before they’re winter clad.


Like moving polka dots they glide against a crisp blue sky.
They swirl about and warn of snow to each cold passerby.

While winter waits they have no care and fly from street to street.
At last to find an end as they are crunched by tiny feet.







What fairy steals their colors bold and turns them all to brown.
She darts o’er hill and dell each night in every little town.


Soon winter finds them sleeping and a blanket she does send
To bring their playful mischief quite abruptly to an end.

Each snowflake glides so innocent then touches down at last
And trillions more do follow pressing leaves into the past.