Brian Alan Bild is the Mark Twain of rhyming poetry. He graduated from the University of Missouri at Columbia with a major in psychology. He also graduated from the University of Michigan Law School and from the UCLA School of Business with an MBA. He was First Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Ordnance Corps supervising the largest and most important ammunition depot in South Korea at Pusan.
Note: Brian Bild’s at least 7 other books will be offered for sale in the near future.
These sample poems are a small part of the more than 50 poems in the book for sale.
Brian’s 600 rhyming poems are in 8 books. These other books will be available for purchase in the future.
For thousands of years,
A land of bison and deer,
Where Indian tribes roam,
Whole continent,
for a home.
Big, bold and bright,
A continent of delight.
Vast, endless tracts of land,
A land of
nature, so grand.
From sea to shining sea,
A great land this could be.
A continent so grand,
Plants, animals
and land.
Mountains, grasslands and lakes
Sitting there for us to take.
The land was just sitting there.
We stole it fair and square.
When I look at my toes,
I remember how it goes.
A little bit of nursery
rhyme,
Has a natural design.
Five toes, standing in a row,
And this is how it goes:
I remember decades ago,
What my mom let me know.
This little piggy went to
market
(With a shopping list, to ne’r forget).
In my thoughts with a zipped up lip,
I hope
it wasn’t, his one way trip.
This little piggy stayed home.
Was it something, he had done?
Maybe
something, he had not done?
Maybe just for games and fun?
Or would he lay in the sun,
Too warm and cozy, to play and run?
Do Chinese children let their piggies run?
Or is it solely English fun?
Roast beef, roast beef,
Roast beef, was his belief.
The beef hunger
relief,
Those hunger pains, a mischief.
My three-year mind might my drift.
Yet, thoughts
of roast beef persist.
Then there were thoughts of those with none,
Once roast beef thoughts had
begun.
What could I have done?
What could I have done?
It can be fun,
To let my
thoughts run.
‘Twas time for the finale,
Oh, my gosh by golly.
I could feel the piggies
wiggle.
They wiggle as I giggle,
Hearing what I had begun.
Yes, oh yes, what have I
begun.
My slippers kept slipping away,
They wanted to go out and play;
Without a word,
Being
self-assured,
They’d simply go out and play.
I’d have to catch them each day,
Because they’d just slip away;
For a jolly, good time.
A
skip and a rhyme,
My, how they’d slip away.
Compulsively slipping away,
On their own so they say;
To be with their friends,
Having fun
without end,
Playing slipper games all day.
My mother was a tattooed lady
With a rainbow-colored snake upon her chest,
When she walked the
snake did wander,
Back and forth from east to west.
My mother had many tattoos.
A giraffe peeked out each boot.
I hope there wasn’t a lion,
Prowling round each foot.
On her back was a huge, gray whale,
With little fishies floating by.
When she waved her arm,
The whale would wink its eye.
Peeking out her neckline,
A hyena spies his prey,
A wounded bird escapes.
Or, the hyena,
has his day…
Below are some additional titles in the Book: