Children's Story: Let's Call Him Gupper

http://www.clker.com/clipart-11832.html

LET’S CALL HIM GUPPER

“I promise I’ll go to sleep if you just tell me one more story.  Please.  Please.”

“But mommy’s tired, dear, and we have to get up early tomorrow.” 

“Oh, please.  I won’t fuss in the morning.  I’ll eat my breakfast quick as a wink and brush my teeth too.” 

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and then lay down next to my little boy.  A story.  How many more stories before he’s all grown?

“Okay, but it’s going to be short.”

“Once upon a time, there was a little fish that lived in the ocean.” 

“What kind of fish, mom?”

“I’m not sure. He was just little”

“Did he have a name?”

“Let’s call him Gupper.”

“Gupper was scared of the bigger fish, and was especially afraid of the shark that swam by every day looking for food.  Gupper knew he was just what the shark was looking for.” 

“You mean the shark wanted to eat him?” 

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“So, every day Gupper hid behind a rock on the bottom of the ocean and hoped the shark would pass him by.  There were lots of other little fish that would hide near him.  After the shark was gone, they would come out from their hiding places and talk about how scared they were.  Gupper knew the shark would eventually find them.  They needed a plan.”

“Are fish really smart, mom?  What kind of plan do you think they had?”

“Well, Gupper called a meeting of all the little fish and they talked about their problem.  None of them wanted to be eaten by the shark.  As he looked at all the frightened fish, Gupper came up with an idea.  He told the group they would need to practice to pull it off, but he thought it just might work.”

“The next day, the shark came by at exactly noon.  He swam past the rock and then was confronted by a really big fish that swam at him with great speed and turned away at just the last second.  The shark had never seen a fish that big or one with that much speed.  It was a blur of color and motion.  The shark swerved off in the opposite direction, suddenly fearing for his own life.”

“But, mom, where did the really big fish come from?”

“Well, Gupper’s plan was quite simple.  When all the little fish worked together and swam together, they could form themselves into the shape of a really big fish.  It gave them power and size that none of them had by themselves.  By working together, they overcame their greatest fear and their biggest obstacle.”

“Did the shark ever bother them again?”

“Oh, the shark came around from time to time, but he always moved on to look for other prey.”

“Gupper sounds pretty smart, mom.”

“Gupper was a very smart little fish who knew that he needed friends in the ocean to help him survive.  We all need friends.  It makes everything a little easier.”

“I’m glad you’re my friend, mom.”

“I’m glad you’re my friend, too, son.  Now get some sleep.  Have magic dreams and a bright tomorrow.  Love you.  Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, mom.  Thanks for the story.  I hope I’m as smart as Gupper when I grow up.”

“You will be.  You already know it’s good to have friends and treat them right. A lot of grown-ups never figure that out.” 

“I guess they never heard about, Gupper.”

“I guess you’re right.”

"I love you."

"I love you back."

Swimming in schools is a common defense method for fish.  You can read more about it on the following website: 

http://freshaquarium.about.com/cs/beginnerinfo/a/schooling.htm

Poem: Take Off Your Armor

Rita - 1953 - with older sisters

Take Off Your Armor 

 We are born vulnerable,

reliant on others to hold us

feed us,

hug us,

love us,

helpless in every way,

needing others

for our very survival,

 we learn to walk,

talk,

read, write,

cry, sigh,

ask why,

discern truth,

laugh,

get hurt,

always moving, moving

 toward

independence,

at last,

but wait,

not so fast,

remain vulnerable,
no need to go it alone,

it is after all

the heart of who we are,

 when did it become a weakness

 to need others,

to express longings?

numbing our emotions,

we trudge forward

with our armor on,

our shield up,

we deflect intruding

connections,

going it alone,

I say

give it up,

put down the shield,

take off your armor,

embrace your vulnerability,

expose your heart,

accept the truth of

your humanity,

It's there in each of us

waiting to be set free,

at last,

put down your shield,
take off your armor,
I promise you'll be okay.

Poem: Snatch the Light

Snatch the Light

The sun is shining so brightly this February day,

I feel stirrings of spring

even though I know there

is winter left in the wind,

I feel powerful today

because of the promising sun,

 It helps me conquer the gloom

of ice-laden days

and dark cloaking nights,

nights full of shadows, misgivings,

insecurities, weariness,

no more, I say,

I will take this snatch of light,

store it safely in my core,

until the darkness falls,

I will pull it out

casting bright rays

across the landscape of darkness,

bringing winter to an end

even though

it still stirs in the wind.

Poem: A Palace of Words (an ode to bookstores)

Borders Bookstore announced today that it has filed for bankruptcy and will be closing over 200 stores nationally.  There is a Borders in my neighborhood that I have frequented with much regularity since it opened.  I think it has been here for at least 15 years.  I am sad to think about it closing, I feel guilty about occasionally buying books from Amazon, thus hastening the demise of brick and mortar bookstores. There is a lady who works at my Borders who has an encyclopedic memory for books and an emotional connection to readers.  I’ve walked in before and said  I need a book on a specific topic and she will lead me directly to the right section and even recommend a few titles adding her own personal critique.  That type of service is not easily obtained from the internet.  So, to allay my guilt and ease my sadness, I have written a poem in praise of bookstores.

 A Palace of Words

A grand royal palace of all that is written,

Paved with fine aisles of glistening books,

Crowded on shelves, spine to spine touching,

They patiently wait with fetching good looks,

Awaiting word seekers to grasp their fine backs,

Lifting so gently, caressing their flaps,

Then finding soft chairs in cozy back nooks,

They fall fast asleep with books in their laps,

The smell of the ink,

The rippling pages,

The bustle of shoppers,

Wiser than sages,

They know that a bookstore is one special place,

Where books reign supreme and readers convene,

To savor the books in a space they can touch,

It has a real pulse, if you know what I mean,

You can’t be replaced, you palace of words,

You mustn’t depart, leaving shelves full of dust,

An empty grand palace would be such a loss

You simply must stay; it’s simply a must.

Poem: Velvet Curtains

 Velvet Curtains

Too much exposure,

turn down the lights,

leave something

to the imagination,

Some vague allure,

a hint of smoke

and mirrors

to dim the harsh

glaring realities,

I need mystery;

velvet curtains

hiding dark images,

let the stage

reveal a tale of wonder,

where humanity

prevails,

acting with grand strokes

of imperious grace,

remaining above the fray,

where what we imagine 

becomes real,

where reality

quietly slips away

in a boat

swiftly carried toward

the horizon,

beyond thought,

beyond worry,

turn down the lights,

turn up the mystery.

Poem: A Stack of Words

Rita Bourland © 2011- Stack of  Poetry

A Stack of Words

I stack my words

in poet’s form

the structure

ebbs and flows

the words connect

from high to low

and back and forth

they go

count them up

or count them down

 still just words

in space

an online verse

a conga dance

a poet’s

 tour de force

of course

but print the words

on paper fine

one poem atop another

a year of poems

a year of verse

a year of winsome wonder

a stack of words

it does become

a mighty stack of words

it gives me pause to view

this feat

my words

my strength

my hunger

for writing this

and writing that

and sometimes

saying nothing

but sometimes when

the magic strikes

I say something to ponder

it might just clap like thunder

on days like that

I’m glad I write

my lovely

stack of words

 so join me for a time

listen to a rhyme

share a year of words

a mighty stack of words

I ask

I hope

I pray

I plead

I never

lack for words.

Live Poetry Reading - My Parrot's Very Bright

I'm trying something a little bit different today.   Instead of typing my poem as an entry, I've done a live reading on YouTube of one of my children's poems.  Enjoy!

My Parrot's Very Bright

written by Rita Bourland ~ Illustrated by Philip Bourland