Roy G. Biv

I submitted this poem for critique to an online writing forum and got battered with criticism. So I stopped posting there. Not very mature, I know, but I figured it was better than the alternative (which involved me, a few four letter words, and a "Submit Post" tab).

I happen to like this one and so do the kids I've read it to, which helps a bruised ego recover from Other People's Opinions.This poem, and the book I intend to publish one day, may only remain a dream in my head. But I'm pretty sure the opinion of my intended audience matters a bit more than those who like to rain on other people's parades.

So there.


I know a man named Roy B. Giv

and he’s a funny little man.

Always talking ‘bout colors like

Red and blue and yellow, too

and his walks on Rainbow Lane.

Roy…Mr. Giv, I mean, comes from far away.

He travels the world on a raindrop or two and scares away the gray.

Roy…Mr. Giv, I mean, dances in the clouds.

Singing and laughing and dancing on air, for his only reason to

rise and greet the sun each day?

Living a glorious riddle and playing his

fiddle while he paints the

world a color he likes to call happy