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Alan Balter

Alan Balter

About Alan Balter

Alan Balter was born May 25th, 1939 in Chicago. He worked as a teacher for children with special needs before becoming a professor in the Special Education Department at Chicago State University. There, he prepared teachers for children and adolescents with learning disabilities and developmental delays. Along with Poetry for my Grandchildren and Everyone Else’s, his other publications include: Divided Apple: A Story about Teaching in Chicago, Learning Disabilities: a Book for Parents, and two novels entitled Birds of a Feather and Holden and Me.

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Poems by Alan Balter

Travel Sickness

I'm a retired university professor who has turned to poetry in his retirement to preserve his wife's sanity. She maintains that having me around 24 hours a day is as bit of astretch. Preposterous!!
- pending
- Posted on 08/12/24
in Short Poems

Travel Sickness

A voyage abroad with my good wife Maude turned into a real mess

Travel Sickness

A voyage abroad with my good wife Maude turned into a real mess
In need of some rest in Budapest, about all I got was stress
Then in France I took a chance on some pork a little too rare
I so regret that Monsieur's toilette was very crowded there

We never found out if the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plains
Because in Barcelona and again in Pamplona I had severe head pains
Many a folk strolled through churches baroque, the grandest in the area
Only I felt blue, stretched out on a pew, certain I had malaria

Europe had been tough, really rough; things had gotten out of hand
So we gathered our stuff and headed out in a huff to visit the holy land
Then I tripped on a boulder and bruised my shoulder; alas, we had to leave
'Cause wearing a sling in the early spring is awkward in Tel Aviv

Maude was irked that nothing had worked; still, she said with a smile
"Let's conform and go someplace warm, maybe a tropical isle"
But a ruptured achilles in the Antilles I accomplished with astonishing ease
It laid me low, don't you know, as an intestinal disease in Belize

Clearly time to abort, so we cut our trip short and headed back to Seattle
Never one to complain when he's in pain, I'd fought a courageous battle
Now home at last with our trip in the past, I'm not looking for anything dramatic
Just find me a shrink who doesn't drink and treats problems psychosomatic
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The Lake

I wrote this poem for my wife. Together, we have shared a magnificent 42 year love affair, world travel, and 14 healthy and otherwise terrific grandchildren. I hope you enjoy my poem and will consider it in your contest and for publication.
- pending
- Posted on 01/10/24
in Short Love Poems

The Lake

waters, blue-green and laced with foam

The Lake

waters, blue-green and laced with foam
rolled ashore in liquid whispers
to wet the dune grass standing like sentinels
in a vast and verdant brigade

as a boy, I splashed in the shallows
and caught silver minnows in a frayed,
cotton cloth, then showed them to a girl
with eyes the color of cornflowers

and when we were still young and fresh
we ran, hand in hand, into the cold surf
where we warmed each other and spoke of
all the sweet things that life would bring us

and now, after the ebb and flow of thousands of tides,
I sit onshore of the great lake and reflect upon
the wonders of the waters and the woman
I love as I love my life
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- Rating 4.50
Harvey The Hippo
- Published: July 2021
Limerick About A Hippo

in Limericks

Harvey is a huge hippopotamus
Who bathes in a bay that is bottomless
HIs mouth is as large
As a riverboat barge

Harvey is a huge hippopotamus
Who bathes in a bay that is bottomless
HIs mouth is as large
As a riverboat barge
And he weighs ten times more than a lot of us

Harvey wears a red cummerbund
And sewn on the back is the number one
He plays the tuba
Not far from Aruba
While dancing around in the summer sun

Once Harvey met up with a crocodile
Together they decided to walk a mile
Near the shore they strolled,
But the water got cold
So they sat down to talk on the dock a while

Eating Oreo cookies about four apiece
They talked about matters of war and peace
They discussed the economy,
Art, and astronomy
And the huge immigration of foreign geese

Then walking back toward his new shiny house
Harvey stopped for a chat with a tiny mouse
Her name was Du Barry;
They decided to marry
And soon come a baby named Stanislaus

A handsome young child was Stanislaus
Dressed up in his fine silken Spanish blouse
They all had made history;
This was no mystery
For Stan was the first Hippopotamouse

Huge Harvey adored his sweet ladylove
From her wee little feet to her head above
He brought her some strings
And other fine things
Including a snowy white turtledove

Harvey has grown really mellow now
He seldom produces a bellow now
But if you're down by the bay,
You can still see him play
This wondrous and gentle old fellow now
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- Rating 4.21
Featured Shared Story

I enjoyed the quality presentation of the hippo story. The rhyme style was very skilled, and there was care for rhythm while telling a coherent and entertaining tale.

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (5)
Night Noises
- Published: September 2019
in Funny Poems for Kids

My parents' bedroom is far from mine, so I have to wonder
What the noise is every night that sounds a lot like thunder.
We don't live near the seashore, but almost every morn
I'm wakened by a noise that sounds like a fog horn.

My parents' bedroom is far from mine, so I have to wonder
What the noise is every night that sounds a lot like thunder.
We don't live near the seashore, but almost every morn
I'm wakened by a noise that sounds like a fog horn.

It's louder than the sound of barking dogs at night
Or a fireworks explosion that lights the sky real bright.
A chainsaw cutting logs doesn't make as much din,
Nor did the wall coming down way over in Berlin.

A jet plane at takeoff will get your attention quick,
As will a jackhammer engaged in busting up some brick.
But neither equals the clamor from Mom and Dad's bedroom,
Worse than a stack of dynamite at the moment of KABOOM!

At last I figured out the source of all the raucous roaring.
It was only good old Dad engaging in some snoring
Mom says: "I don't mind; it's really a Godsend
That all that wind isn't coming out the other end."
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- Rating 4.01
Featured Shared Story

The writer has given a humorous touch to a common incident found in many a home. Mother's lighthearted comment, "I don't mind; it's really a godsend" makes the idea more effective.

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (1)
Who Nose?
- Published: October 2017
in Funny Poems for Kids

Some are as long as hoses
You buy at a garden store.
Mine can be used to smell roses
From a couple of miles or more.

Some are as long as hoses
You buy at a garden store.
Mine can be used to smell roses
From a couple of miles or more.

In case you haven't guessed it,
It's noses I'm talking about here,
And although I've never expressed it
As for mine, it's unique, I fear.

On a night that's humid and warm
You'd be impressed I'd bet.
Stand under my nose in a thunderstorm.
Chances are you won't get wet.

Yesterday I had someone to meet.
The cab drive was the worst.
The driver dropped me at Eighth Street.
But my nose went on 'til First.

Then a jet plane we boarded
Me and my nose, it was neat.
I really couldn't afford it
'Cause we needed an extra seat.

For handkerchiefs, it's really rough.
It's hard to know what to do.
A small white cloth isn't enough,
So I use a bedsheet or two.

Perhaps I shouldn't be complaining.
Who knows where things went wrong?
Certainly I should be abstaining
From sticking it where it doesn't belong
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- Stories 1
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- Votes 172
- Rating 4.09
Featured Shared Story

I think children will like the poem. It's funny. You must have a lot of imagination to write such a poem. I like it!

Touched by the poem? Share your story! (1)

View All Poems by Alan Balter

Stories

Alan Balter
3 years ago

Hi Rita, thanks for the kind words about Harvey the Hippo. I've got about 20 other poems like Harvey. I can also furnish an illustrator. You go ahead and find a publisher, and we can be partners.
Alan

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Alan Balter

About Alan Balter

Poems by Alan Balter

Travel Sickness

I'm a retired university professor who has turned to poetry in his retirement to preserve his wife's sanity. She maintains that having me around 24 hours a day is as bit of astretch. Preposterous!!

The Lake

I wrote this poem for my wife. Together, we have shared a magnificent 42 year love affair, world travel, and 14 healthy and otherwise terrific grandchildren. I hope you enjoy my poem and will consider it in your contest and for publication.

Harvey The Hippo

Night Noises

Who Nose?

Stories