AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN VERSE
© 2009 Lee Cronenwalt
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To Lillian, my little bride
The Poems
AT EIGHTY FIVE
In this my eighty fifth year,
looking down my corridor of life.
Some memories engender tears,
but most with zeal are rife.
There is not much I would forfend.
My only fear as I approach life’s end,
is my wife may leave ere I,
leap heavenward to join her flight.
FOR LILLIAN
(At age 23) Come Walk a way with me my love,
it’s a sometime pleasant street.
The pulse of life does swirl about,
like mirages in the heat.
We’ll watch and wonder as we go.
We’ll talk a bit and age a bit,
and love and cry and hate a bit.
Though every hour may change the view,
then every day will one renew,
your love for me and mine for you.
(at age 83) I gazed last night into your eyes,
to see my ardor there reflected.
And thought how strange that this old guy,
with shambling gait and balding pate,
could know again with out restraint,
the feelings born when we first met.
And know now what will ever be,
My love for you and yours for me.
UNCLE BEN
I remember uncle Ben,
a gentle giant of a man.
softly shaking me awake,
to of his morning meal partake.
Garden onions and radishes I shared with him,
then still perched upon his knee,
buttered black bread came and tea.
Hunger abated we went to his car,
A mighty kessel without par.
Inside beside each massive door,
glass flower vases totaled four.
I was completely satisfied,
to spend the day at uncle’s side.
I remember the small violin he gave me,
exciting me to a violinist be.
That goal accomplished to some degree.
Years later when he was deceased,
my label dedicated to uncle Ben,
a violin made by me.
My affection will never end.
I REMEMBER DAD
I remember seeing Dad that day,
framed in the world of his servitude.
And my mother trying to look brave,
Throwing him a package filled with food.
The note within read “Sam be careful,”
and ended with “I love you, Luce.”
Dad looked soiled and sleep deprived,
no creature comforts were inside.
A plant that hummed now silent stood,
no autos could be made or would.
By welding shut each door that day,
sit down strikers found a way,
decent working conditions could be gained.
Strike breaking goons were on the grounds,
seeking workers on their rounds
Each brave man now locked inside,
could lose his job nation wide,
or take a beating not soon forgotten.
Another result not as rotten,
is Dad will always be a hero to Mom and me.
THE GREAT DEPRESSION
I remember brother Bud and I,
trudging snowy streets.
In hopes we could help my Dad,
Get food enough to eat.
“Shovel your drive it’s just a dime,
all the way out to the street”.
“Just a quarter gets it all,
sidewalks and porch complete.
Not one job did we decoy,
despite our real ambition.
No neighbor had our quarter wage,
all due to job attrition.
I REMEMBER MISCHELE
I remember Saturday dates,
with Nana’s aid a gala fete.
My little blond her fancy dress and patent shoes,
created a memory I’ll never lose.
We’d walk down town to Uncle Bobs,
for steak, cheese cake, corn on the cob.
When Mischele was with me,
we were treated like royalty.
Then hand in hand we’d retrace our way,
window shopping creating some delay.
Till some little toy gave her pleasure unalloyed,
Then home to Nana ending a perfect day.
I REMEMBER NANA
You always spoke the truth,
for which I great honor to you impute.
Gifted with an enchanting smile,
you were a mother that beguiled.
Youth of every persona,
quickly chose to call you Ma.
To we kin you were the one,
always full of Viennese fun.
The Hungarian ditties that you sang,
entertained our entranced gang.
We were warned to repeat them soto voce,
If the listeners Hungarian understood verstehen?
A GIFT FROM OUR TREE
When we arrived at our new home,
a maple sapling stood alone.
Before our house besieged and weak,
by unruly north west winds tweaked.
With rope and tent pegs over time,
I brought it erect and made it mine.
Later workmen cleared our ditch,
scraped its roots till they bled pitch.
We treated each wound with healing spray,
prayed it would live another day.
Today we see a mighty tree,
Regal in its maturity.
And we are filled with pride,
For we did try,
This is our prize.
I REMEMBER GRANDFATHER IKE
Each morning on the edge of his bed,
he’d put his wooden leg onto his painful stump.
Until he had his breakfast Gramps was a grump.
Then he would shave and comb his remaining hair,
to a large flat curl on his forehead bare.
But when he dressed what an elegant man,
a grey serge suit and silken tie,
with a homburg to tip if ladies passed by.
Then walking with Gramps to his clothing store,
always got me three peppermint Lifesavers or more.
I still hear the sound of his wooden legs strap,
as with each step his shoulder it slapped.
A GENERATIONAL THING
When I was in school,
I had two parents and knew,
that at the school days end,
I and each of my friends,
would go home to parental care.
We knew that it was there.
Now hearing the duress,
single parents express,
I can but assess,
it is a generational mess.
All hope for conversion is disavowed,
by a generation that misadventure allows.
Just one hope for change remains,
when that generation is truly gone,
perhaps the next will correct the wrongs.
As for the excuses that they make,
our nation’s future is now at stake.
Too many women bedding too many men,
they don’t like well enough to wed, and then
unloading their off springs once again,
to the care of citizens who duty ken.
I REMEMBER GRANDMOTHER
Each morning when the house was dark, on her duties grandmother embarked. First the kitchen stove she aroused, then lit the potbelly to warm the house. Next set the dining tables white cover, with settings over which her candles hovered. With the family still in sleep congealed, she her days fresh apron then revealed. Only then did she awaken the house, to every thing a farm breakfast allowed. A white haired bundle of energy, she made her house and garden a synergy. She left her loving grandson bemused, That she found time to laugh and be amused.
REMEMBERING COUSIN FRANKLEN
There was an aura of sunshine about him,
an ever ready smile just waiting to charm.
a maiden or friend or school marm.
Each was enchanted by its enveloping warmth.
His personality was for real,
not a manner tuned to appeal.
He served in the air force during world war two.
At wars end he to Los Angeles moved.
There he was entranced by the sea,
wishing for a boat for his family of three.
Wife, son, and daughter his life was complete.
Then he found employment that he knew,
offered the personal satisfaction which he pursued.
At a penal facility he was empowered,
to instruct prisoners on how to make plants flower.
So doing he awakened a new view,
as an interest in horticulture was renewed.
At work one day he passed away,
my employer insisted that I in Michigan stay.
So that I was unable to see, his ashes flung into the sea.
REMEMBERING COUSIN BERNARD
Trudging home from school,
at Longfellow Junior High.
cousin Bernard, his tuba and I,
HE must really hungry be,
he wants to stop at home with me.
A silent apartment, Mom and Dad at work.
Cousin checks the icebox where the goodies lurk.
His eyes widen with delight,
aunties sweet /sour fish is in sight!
“Just a taste she’ll never miss”,
good lord he disappeared the fish!
Fearing auntie’s righteous wrath,
he left for home and fast.
Squealing on my cousin did not seem right,
Missing supper put it in a different light.
I wisely then took straight aim,
and on Bernard placed the blame.
All thought of reticence quickly changed.
I REMEMBER MR MOLKE
Not a very portly man,
his effect was greater than his stance.
He had an authoritative Germanic glance.
At Longfellow junior high,
in music he was definitely the guy.
In charge of orchestra ,chorus, and band,
for a junior high his plans were grand.
We knew when he was not pleased,
and anxiously watched his ring of keys.
His accuracy at the key ring throw,
always found the target zone.
Wrong notes repeated would decree,
That a pair of folding chairs we seize,
holding them above our head was not a breeze.
A marvelous violinist he,
was concertmaster of our local symphony.
The conductor and he often could not agree,
He resigned his chair ,would not conceed.
Years later, after his demise,
I was pleasantly surprised,
when asked to make his violin fit to play.
For his grand children to use another day.
THE GREAT PICKLE ROBBERY
First I’d slip down the basement,
release the catch on the windows casement,
Then run out to the vacant corner lot,
to notify my friends of the plot,
Indian style we’d glide to the window,
one by one we’d drop inside,
Approach the big crock tall and wide,
remove the brick and plate below,
inhale the wondrous garlic smell,
symptomatic where pickles dwell,
We’d quickly choose the biggest ones,
then climb outside and on the run,
to the vacant lot escape,
There to of half done pickles partake,
(to this day my favorite taste.)
Years later when I told my mom,
where her pilfered pickles had gone,
It seems I was the one confused,
Of our trick she always knew.
AUNTE JEANETTE AND UNCLE JOE
Leaving Los Angeles for home,
we bid them farewell, the parting was slow.
Still pretty, her hair as white as snow,
aunty regretted to see us go.
With a large tin of poppy seed cakes,
just something from her on our trip to take.
Together they were the sweetest pair.
nearly blind and five foot six,
Uncle was full of fun and feisty tricks.
He’d go walking and find his way home,
counting telephone poles so as not to roam.
ON reaching Flint the cake was put away.
in the freezer where fresh it would stay.
Three years hence when we moved,
we found it again as good as new.
Though the lord had taken aunty away,
enjoying her gift we three felt blessed,
Aunt Jeanette had not left us yet.
THE FAMILY VEHICLE
The only car we could afford,
an antique model A Ford,
really not the car for some,
only Dad could make it run.
For a spare tire we carried two that were used,
a daring trip was sixty miles eschewed.
To Saginaw to visit uncle Ben,
then hopefully home again.
Dad once taught me how to drive,
a chore he somehow survived.
Though once he grabbed the wheel,
to save me driving through a field.
His true friendship was then revealed,
of my mistakes he never squealed.
Another reason I’ll always be,
grateful that he fathered me.
MY SISTER VIOLET
I remember Lil’s sister Violet Fine,
Who in time became a sister of mine.
Because of her some moments ever after.
are remembrances inducing laughter.
She garnered fun every where,
by recognizing that it was there.
As when she, I, and wifey on the living room floor,
the air redolent of garlic bread and tobacco smoke,
undertook to alter my army coat.
So that now a civilian again,
it did not betray where it began.
Also when on a fishing raft with me,
that quickly became a wading pool filled with rain.
The craft though new and shiny,
was only good for a pair of wet heinies.
MY FRIEND PAULINE
Perky and bright as a new penny,
a smile surpassing just about any.
She is always on the job,
purveyor of just about any thingamabob.
Among contributed items for sale,
at her garage sale site,
all earnings went without fail,
to support the synagogue’s life.
As arthritic as most our age,
accepting handicaps without rage.
Every customer left of the mind,
That better buys they’d never find
A REVEALING COMPARISON
A comparison Democrats cannot bear,
is with American heroes which they forswear.
Not only does it make them look bad,
it invites criticism which they’d rather not have.
They have termed Washington a keeper of slaves,
and revealed that Jefferson with slaves had lain.
Columbus they declared a genocidal brute,
General Lee they would deprive of the nations esteem,
though their reasons are best described as a dream.
Now lets compare the above to these,
Bill Clinton on the phone discussing world events,
as his mistress relieves him of all stress.
Hillary’s white house Christmas tree,
a lesson in sexual diversity
Senator Kerry recommending his nations retreat.
but refuses to acknowledge his electoral defeat.
Senator Kennedy’s youthful date,
his girlfriends demise blamed on fate.
No wonder they must history rewrite,
If all of these come to light,
No bridge can span the well spun cleft,
Between America’s heroes and the Socialist left.
THE FICKLNESS OF FATE
I remember friends of Mom and Dad,
a nicer pair could not be had.
He friendly but business like,
she lovely, in every way just right.
I was in my early teens,
driven to adulation by my active genes.
He, management in a large corporation,
efficacious by nature, his a fine affiliation.
When we left they waved from their door,
Two weeks later, their situation changes galore,
The pretty wife looked haggard and worn,
her husband crouched in a chair meowing like a cat.
hardly aware of where he was at,
A vacuous grin on his handsome face,
he had gone to some make believe place,
free of the pressures his job did create.
No longer was advancement the goal to be gained,
from this misfortune a lesson I claim,
which is how quickly life can change.
In a few weeks ,a new ball game!
MY ONE, HOUR PROMOTION
Fresh out of high school,
I went to Detroit,
wanting to become violinisticaly adroit,
I worked at a restaurant days,
washing dishes and putting them away,
They were so shiny and artistically arrayed,
I was promoted and given a raise,
becoming a waiter the following day,
My luncheon table was four important guests,
their gastronomic needs I did quickly divest,
by filling a new hat with a bowl of bean soup,
How quickly I followed the regressive loop,
The boss his shame and displeasure did show,
I went to the kitchen completely disowned.
I REMEMBER C.V. FOOTE
We met on the Florida keys,
trusty car, beloved dog, and he.
Five foot seven and tanned all over,
full time fisherman and rover.
When his wife died he chose to roam,
knowing without her no house was home.
Fishing and roaming became his life.
after he lost his loving wife.
an interesting gent he became a friend,
visiting us now and then.
Fishing from shore at Spanish harbor,
one mighty contest proved his ardor.
Seven foot long(six hundred pounds and more.)
he needed his car to drag it ashore!
LITTLE SQUIRRELS—BIG AUTOMOBILES
How we ran from tree to tree,
when my brother played with me.
When I looked at him today,
squashed upon the black swish swoosh way.
And asked him to come and play,
I knew that he had gone away.
HE does not move, what can I do,
but mother cuddle close to you ?
Swish swooshers cannot follow me,
to this our nest in the big tree.
Still when I think about him now,
it makes me hurt inside somehow.
The brother who ran and played with me,
when we raced from tree to tree.
THE ATLANTA FARM MARKET
When ever we were Florida bound,
we made it a point to surround,
a special breakfast that we knew,
many others enjoyed as we do.
Their very special coffee brew,
poured by servitors just for you.
to properly start the day anew.
Their grits will always be,
a special breakfast treat for me.
Their biscuits make the day well spent,
a delicious tasty aliment.
Then tour the markets booths,
where extra special pecans can be viewed.
we enjoy them at home the year through.
Looking upon those locally offered,
as poor substitutes shamefully proffered.
FOR A BELOVED GRANDSON
“Poppa will you still love me when I’m as old as you?”
yes I will and promise now that it will then be true.
Whenever or wherever you may be,
any time you feel a gentle breeze nuzzling your cheek,
you will know it is a sign of love from me,
wherever we might be.
MISSING FAMILY
There is a big hole in our family tree,
much of the family ceased to be,
they knew a harsh and bitter death.
This family which I never met,
our family tree just hints of you,
since your days on earth are through.
but you helped create me too,
I’ll cry for you I never knew.
SELF PORTRAIT
Dated nineteen seventy three,
a self portrait lets others see,
aspects of life that gave pleasure to me.
Indirectly a portrait of Lee,
shows a musical score,
perhaps a song,
and a violin to play it on,
A tobacco pipe awaits a light,
A cup of coffee brewed just right,
An apple that is red and crisp,
These pleasures my self portrait lists,
Shows how pleasant life used to be,
Quite a change since nineteen seventy three All but the apple now denied,
most of the picture put aside,
All in the last thirty four years,
Allowing me to stay astride,
The ageing Rozenante that I now ride,
OUR MORNING WALK
A gorgeous Michigan autumn day.
Toughy John and I are on our way.
Every dog though closed inside,
hears any other walking by.
Their hearing is more sensitive than our own,
especially around their home.
A lively little lady pup, all white,
greeted toughy as we passed by.
His mistress handily in reach,
held the other end of her leash.
We spoke of the weather I felt obliged to say,
I wished until January would remain that way.
The lady then said “I may not make it to a January day.”
“A recent M.R.I, puts limits on my stay.”
To alter that projection I asked if I might pray.
We embraced before I left.
Her parting words were “don’t forget
I’ll need all the help that I can get.”
The brilliant sun seemed to have left.
THE SHOWS END
Today autumn began, and Michiganders understand,
the coming decline of fecund beauty by nature designed.
And accept the end of the spring summer show,
Whose performance will glow with flashing red ,orange ,and gold.
It will then that costume divest for its winter rest.
And be enveloped in a white surround, a gaunt and empty staging ground.
TENTING TONIGHT
We Michiganders know how to rough it,
at our camp sites everything fits.
Tent stakes and poles are always there,
cook sites and lanterns well prepared.
The next site’s camper pulled in with a flair.
Their elegant motor home reveals,
for some camping is no ordeal.
We were just finishing our evening meal,
when they left in their trailered automobile.
Dressed for dinner and by some restaurant assured,
they had a longer menu du jour,
Then our canned ham and potatoes slightly burned.
But our marshmallows on a stick toasted,
Until a light brown and perfectly roasted,
Made a gooey and wondrous desert.
The young ones had smores their favorite dessert.
Then to relax and warm our toes at the coals,
As two elfin faced raccoons on our table disclose,
their love of pilfered cookies but not one of us rose,
as we languorous in our camp chairs stayed.
Till hunger assuaged they slipped away.
Our tent advertised as room for four,
can sleep we three, no room for more.
At it’s back window our daughter exclaimed,
“a big animal just passed our tent.!!!”
Flashlight in hand I went to see,
how large an animal it might really be.
No discernable animal seemed present.
But a loud and challenging growl,
convinced me that a bear was on the prowl!
In a flurry we flung ourselves into the car,
Doors and windows we locked up tight.
Therein we tented the whole darned night.
THE DISAPPEARING GREEN TROUSER MYSTERY
Attired in grey slacks that day I went,
to my doctor and an exam underwent.
At visits end I mischievously proclaimed,
my trousers were green and the grey disclaimed.
Patty the nurse, a doll with an infectious laugh,
joined the hoax gaining credence with the staff.
Over time the hoax gained a credence of its own,
refreshed by comments each visit intoned.
Like most fables it was hard to disown.
The green slacks were never found,
Though I still claim they must be around.
WHY ARE WE HERE?
Oh L- rd who put us on this earth,
perhaps to see what we are worth.
In whatever manner we did strive,
did we do more than just survive?
Or will history my days describe,
As he came, he saw, and then he died?
No matter how vigorously we squirm,
avoiding all that we might learn,
and teach throughout life’s term,
surely you watching will decide,
if we just came, and saw, and died.
HEARTFELT THANKS
I cannot too often thanks renew,
to the teachers when I went to school.
I pray their methods will again be used,
Their daily dedication to each student imbue,
with self reliance and dedication to,
Family ,nation ,and ,community too.
they made us ready for the life they knew.
Every student could read and write,
and knew the constitution and the bill of rights.
Each had America’s history reviewed,
Had read Tom Sawyer with delight.
All the above have now been quelled,
are by Socialist dictum dispelled.
Moral teachings and true history are withheld,
So that morality and dedication no longer jell.
OLD GLORY
When leaving or returning home,
I love to see old glory flown.
All who show the flag do know,
that our free nation stands alone.
A gift from founders who made it so.
We citizens control the politician’s stay,
not electing those who trust betray.
Citizens who fought for blessings now ingrained
wont retreat from a path valiantly gained.
FEISTY GREY SQUIRRELS
When they nested in our walnut tree,
no fallen nuts did we glean,
When challenged for their residency,
the larger squirrels were made to flee.
With winter’s snow they chose to move,
and took residence in our barbeque.
Lining it with grass and leaves,
thus avoiding winters freeze.
The bravest did our home invade,
and frolicking noises nightly made.
On the heat runs they romped and played.
The rhythm of their little feet,
became disruptive of our sleep.
One day I found my winter boots,
filled to their tops with squirrel food.
Tasty walnuts safely kept,
protected from all chance of theft.
Shared boots I really could not see,
that challenge was too much for me.
In a box their hoard then went,
into the garage was quickly sent.
It was reclaimed and we assume,
was by our squirrel friends consumed.
That day we did our home reclaim.
Every opening we secured,
Until the grey and furry herd.
in disgust did move away.
We have not seen them since that day.
N’ANAS BROWN BAG LUNCHES
Each day my lunch bag, with my initials flagged,
I would put on the cafeteria shelf.
and some sleazebag would steal it for himself.
How my stomach would squeak,
as vainly I sought hunger relief.
Then began my hunger defense,
and we applied some common sense.
With my initials removed it proved,
Nana’s lunches were better than most.
And I stopped being the indignant host.
Her coney dogs, hamburgs, and dobosh torte,
could not help but theft exhort.
Meals better than my co-workers ate,
were the best my loving mom in law could make.
Losing them was my horrible mistake.
FISHING MUD LAKE
After dinner Lil and I,
decided to the fishing try.
Then at the middle of the lake,
a thunder storm began to break.
Not wishing to any chances take,
we decided to our fishing forsake.
and turned about and headed back,
our trolling line still limply slack.
Suddenly the line went taut,
the fish felt the hook and fought.
as he went deep the line just screamed.
We boated the biggest bass I’d ever seen.
On the stringer we put it over the side.
Then we hurried back to shore,
to brag about our evening’s score.
Then learned the bass was ours no more.
Of the catch only the head remained.
our fellow campers then explained,
our catch was by the muskellunge claimed.
Big muskys made that lake their lair.
They picnicked on our shoreward ride,
our bass in their insides resides.
MICHIGAN
Surrounded by fresh water seas,
a verdant land of stately trees.
Crops fill its fertile plains,
as seasons do their growth sustain.
Four passing seasons in the main,
Surpass all other regional claims.
that each day their climate is the same.
Our seasonal display when passing by,
serves to refresh admiring eyes.
When I’m away from it I know,
my need for it tends to grow.
Far better knowing winter’s rime,
then yearning for this land of mine.
THERAPISTS
They spend each and every day,
others problems to assuage.
Giving some the will to walk,
aiding others again to talk.
Helping some their beds to leave,
as they renewed strength receive.
They retrain our hands and feet,
to perform as our brain seeks.
How to shower, how to shave,
Tie our shoes, dress, and bathe.
Great victories despite our age,
What worth while days therapists live!
Count the restored lives they give!
OLD WESTWARD SIXTY SIX
To really learn to value life,
route sixty six will suffice.
The old Ute mountain pass,
most roller coasters would surpass.
It’s two lane road unwinding down,
showed a view quickly found.
Remnants of autos of the unlucky who,
Lost control and over the road’s edge flew.
Howling upward hurrying trucks,
against the mountain’s side had better luck.
Uneasy travelers before level ground,
Surrendered underwear on the trip down.
LILLIANS RED CONVERTIBLE
It was wifey’s pride and joy,
her all time favorite toy.
Her red Pontiac always shined,
The chrome so bright that it could blind.
The top pure white and always such.
Mechanically it never needed to be touched.
In early spring she and daughter were impelled,
though cold weather was not yet dispelled,
to drive around with the top down.
The heater throwing warmth around.
Two lovely ladies cruising town.
INDIO CALIFORNIA
Visiting Los Angeles family meant many long trips,
in a car loaded with people, pets, and a variety of grips.
Our cooling was a window hung device,
that to bring relief did not suffice.
When we arrived at the Coechella valley,
we found a place where we could rally.
A date shake in desert heat seemed,
a cooling experience of which we dreamed.
Their medjool dates did not relate,
to those that we in Michigan ate.
Here similar ones were hung out as feed,
For hungry birds and definitely free.
ON ROUTE SIXTY SIX
Leaving flint at five p.m. we began,
switching on and off, Lil and I,
spent the night watching the miles roll by.
Doing something we would not today,
we helped a hitch hiker on his way.
With the arrival of daylight,
Oklahoma City came in sight.
Our passenger then left our ranks,
with profuse and heartfelt thanks.
In these times I’d have to bank,
our chance of arriving would have stank.
Quickly we a restaurant found,
seeking hot coffee and food to surround.
We enjoyed delicious eggs and steak,
a delicacy that all Oklahomans partake.
The local scenery was strange at best,
that oil wells grace the capitol grounds we’ll attest.
Also soil all orange and red,
makes for green grass a colorful bed.
The distance we traveled now seems to be,
impossible for an overnight feat.
Such extravaganzas are for the young,
But now we’re older and not so dumb.
OLIVERA STREET
One day in Los Angeles Lil and I,
and both our moms decided to try,
and were introduced to Mexican food.
We found it good and many hued,
In this regard it was really neat,
just right for when you are walking to eat.
Silver displayed was handsomely done.
But Mexican sombreros won’t suit every one.
When seated on your auto’s seat,
the brim and the headrest too quickly meet,
the hat lurches forward and there it goes,
coming to rest upon your nose.
Eventually when I got it home,
a closet shelf was its catacomb.
OFF TO SCHOOL
First on the cardboard trace the sole,
scissor to the line, I’m on a roll.
Then cut another to play it safe,
there still is time, I wont be late.
Now place the cardboard in the shoe,
the holes are sealed, the shoe renewed.
Cereal and toast, I’m done at last,
a scarf, and jacket, and my cap.
My books at hand, my lunch will be,
on the kitchen shelf awaiting me.
Out and onto snow and ice,
scarf over the ears works just right,
safely avoiding a frostbite.
It’s quite a way, so walk it fast,
now many streets and blocks have passed.
And indoor warmth is mine at last,
I will be in time for class.
THE KEWEENAW PENINSULA
Lillian, I, Mischele, and Denise Helmkay,
visited Michigan’s upper peninsula for five days,
The Keweenaw and Copper Harbor were on our way.
Interesting features invited our stay.
Visiting area graveyards showed,
In those days many years ago,
boys twelve and thirteen years of age,
working the mines died while so engaged.
The copper mined was highly prized,
the purest the earth did provide.
Eight hundred plus worked the peak cliff mine.
By 1843 forty million pounds had been mined.
They introduced hand held meat pies called pasties,
that placed on a shovel and warmed with a candle,
provided miners a hot lunch easily handled.
Our friends of Welsh ancestry all agreed,
Copper Harbor pasties could not be beat.
We tried them and their excellence conceed.
Wandering the Keweenaw we were spellbound,
intriguing things were all around.
Like gazing at Lake Superior’s fresh water sea,
and knowing some ocean storms it might exceed.
As proven by great ships pounded to debris.
NANAS RECOLLECTIONS FROM HER YOUTH
Her consternation when farm geese,
pulled her braids when she tried to flee.
She’d run not walk if they were about,
and sometimes for rescue for her mother she’d shout.
“When transporting crops to market,
I’d be by fear beset.
When traversing the graveyard in darkness,
as we on our route progressed.”
“On many city corners,
venders would chestnuts serve.
Heated on charcoal fires,
their aroma my hunger disturbed.’
“At one time I suffered an infection,
my entire arm swelled before detection.
My mother was making corn meal mush,
for stuffing geese for livers that for epicures were lush.
She shoved my arm into the pot,
and out of it the infection shot.
It drained and my cure was begot”
“Here in the United States,
I was surprised and can now relate,
seeing colored Jews on trains.
They no doubt from Ethiopia came,
Where a sizeable Jewish populace remained,
before emigrating to Israel and the U.S.A.
(They can now Israeli and United States citizenship claim.”)
“I was also surprised to see,
Americans chewing their cuds like cows under a tree.
We Hungarians had not as yet chewing gum seen”
THE VIOLIN
Contrived of aged wood, glue, and four strings,
it resembles the human voice when it sings.
Curvaceous as the feminine form revealed,
its appearance has similar artistic appeal.
Awakened by a hand upon its strings,
a drawn bow elicits notes only it can wring.
A unique voice that scintillates and charms,
in many modes brilliant, and warm.
Created by a sympathetic bond,
between the player and the violin played upon.
The violin coaxed to speak as never before,
again creates the composers score.
THE INDOMITABLE JOURNEY
The freshness of youth points up one truth,
what life’s journey to age parlays,
is that we from youth must turn away.
The first great change by life arranged,
is mid section girth at middle age.
Early old age may often presage.
coronary problems that diets assuage.
An excess of skin surely follows,
like an oversize coat our frame it swallows.
Next we lose hairs ornamentation,
And trustworthy vision’s orientation.
Shiny white teeth are next to go,
as imperfect replacements wobble to and fro.
Then comes arthritis that can’t be disclaimed,
it moves all about and playfully maims.
Thus fate prepares for the final day,
there’s not much left when they put us away.
OUR BACK YARD
Little did we dream,
that we might someday esteem,
a yard behind our home,
filled with sturdy trees.
Nature’s gift to Lil and me.
Now as we stroll about,
our pride filled route,
we are filled with surprise,
that all before our eyes,
belongs to she and me.
The towering swamp oak began,
as a twig planted in a coffee can.
The Catalpa alight,
with a garment of floral white,
is a gift to us from Moremore,
each June a glorious sight.
In autumn our maple sheds,
an elegant carpet of leaves in red.
Our weeping mulberry exists,
to guard youthful trysts.
A towering black walnut drops beneath,
the squirrel’s favorite tasty treat.
While the friendly apple tree,
each neighbor child agrees,
offers quick repasts for free.
ADVERSE CULTURES MEET
Mr. Skinner a tool room foreman on nights,
one Christmas to his employees delight,
did his motley crew to dinner invite.
He made reservations for he and the boys,
at a fine Detroit restaurant their food to enjoy.
He did not know another Mr. skinner was by G. M. employed.
A senior vise president that the same restaurant enjoyed.
Upon their arrival a obsequious attention ensued,
including help interpreting the menu.
Eventually a break down in hospitality arose,
when they their alcoholic beverages chose
These customers considered the fine wines as just booze,
Causing the waiters to consider diminution of the tips perused.
DAS WUNDERKIND
The curly haired youth in shortish pants,
five years old his birthday grants,
displays with ease a fiendish skill,
performing what few others will!
His technique cannot be spurned,
so little time that much to learn.
He needed a head start it seems,
for others that much accomplishment is a dream.
And learn all that by just age five?
He must have started while inside!
A DISTURBED MICHIGANDER
April snow showers won’t bring May flowers,
all that’s in bloom are snow shovels exhumed.
Easter finery is set aside for a while,
if we get a nice April it will be out of style.
Why must Canada send us its weather?
instead of spring shorts we need lederhosen leather.
If this is our nation’s vacation land,
our guests surely won’t find it bland.
And blandishing it certainly isn’t,
Throughout April we are indoor imprisoned
THE AROMA FACTORY
In Flint city then my home town,
at the intersection of Detroit and Saginaw streets,
a small shop served wondrous treats.
From a block away in any direction,
you inhaled the scents of many confections.
It slowed the traffic flow,
of many who had elsewhere to go.
Licorice, Caramel, and popcorn too,
Held their interest till they came in view.
Mr. and Mrs. Shippicassi in aprons of white,
served each customer their favorite delight.
We youngsters dreamt of their shop at night.
THE CALL OF YOUTH
Oh to be sixty five again,
fit to on the weight bench train.
Vigorous and full of beans,
Secure afoot—enjoy life’s scenes.
Again a hearty man amongst men,
just sixty five and start again.
L-rd just grant me these’
and my complaints will quickly cease.
Less doctors office calls each week.
THE BEST JOB IN THE PLANT
Marty studies the whole shift through,
planning which stocks to sell and which renew.
His purview is the department through,
greater than for you.
His pay is good ,benefits fine,
equal to ours, yours and mine.
His coveralls are always clean,
grease does not his hands demean.
His product at the end of day,
sweepings that are thrown away.
OLD AGE DELAYED
I rode my bike in middle age,
since better health it would presage.
Then I ran some every day,
they claimed it would old age delay.
I jogged after a hip went awry,
now it’s worn out knees that I decry.
Thankfully I can now each day walk,
with a stout cane on a flat sidewalk.
The more I’ve kept old age at bay,
the older I am, day by day.
You’ll grow old too, don’t be surprised,
not just growing old, growing wise.
MOVIE MUSIC
As interest in classical music wanes,
one strong classical area is retained.
The general public has idolized,
what movie producers have ceased to prize.
Old movie scores have long remained,
classical music’s strong domain.
The grandeur, laughter, and tears portrayed,
require music of infinite range.
Pop music does not do that well,
repetitious lines and iron clad rhythms forestall,
the flexibility needed above all.
Pop music adds so little to the tale,
that an oft played movie would soon grow stale.
FLUSHING MICHIGAN
There is an old Yiddish saying,
“if you want a friend get a dog”.
No friendlier community has been logged,
than Flushing where most homes have a pet.
Which proves old sayings can demographic facts beget.
‘HAIKU BY A NOVICE’
THE MOSQUITO
Now safe indoors and Winter missed,
Still alive at autumns end.
Urge to bite persists.
PHILO”S RETURN
What became of Philo Vance?
The private detective is back again.
A timely strike ends the t v writer’s way,
where rampant sex each scene displays.
Now old movies can take their place,
movie writers did not sexism disgrace.
Their skill was far more advanced,
with romance and the story in better balance.
I’ll take this occasion to pray,
Their strike will last a year of days.
THE RUMBLE SEAT
On some early automobiles,
coupes contained a special deal,
called by some a mother in law seat.
It was there with groceries replete,
she exposed to the elements could ride.
while husband and wife rode inside.
Those behind would often say,
it did provide a bad hair day.
A boy and his girl might not mind the weather,
if they’d but snuggle closely enough together.
THE GODLESS
Some battle to of god be free.
They paint him as an effigy,
symbolic of their enemies.
Their deity it’s plain to see,
resembles them,
Some claim they’re he.
A futile effort most agree,
Where G-d’s children are,
G-d will be.
PSALM #2 BY LEE
The lord is my strength,
like a pillar of steel.
Throughout my life’s length,
when distraught I do feel.
Just knowing that he,
made this world and me.
Then my thoughts do engage,
that I’m in his image.
Thus great hope is presaged.
A LIFELONG FRIEND
For some life is an adventure,
while others find it hell.
Faith in G-d our fears inures,
his guidance hell repels.
Life can not be easy,
a shepherd leads our way.
Though life makes us uneasy,
his flock will never stray.
WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
A left turn—or a right,
May change sorrow to delight.
Chance controls so much in life.
All that’s left to say,
when greeting each new day,
is “L-rd show me the righteous way.
and guide me through another day.”
OUR FAMILY PRAYER
Bless our house oh L-rd we pray.
Please keep us well by night and day.
Bless our food and quench our drought.
Let your commandments guide our thoughts,
so right actions will always be sought.
Help us to never know a day,
when good manners are thrown away.
While we live help us to learn,
for others well being to show concern.
So when we go to rest at night.
We can honestly pledge our day was right.
OUR NATIONS FUTURE
Ringing words at election time,
wont last as long as seasonal rime.
Wise citizens when loosing ground,
don’t wait another election’s go around.
They know both parties ultimate goals,
Information the opposition seeks to withhold.
And don’t on fortune place the blame,
Treating politics as just a game.
Honest men will not consent,
To see our constitution rent.
They work to save for the citizenry.
protections which have kept them free.
The alterations Socialists seek,
create a foundation that’s so weak,
there is no base left to build upon.
Then upon some future dawn,
When Democracy is nearly gone.
The devious on that quicksand base,
while the electorate cannot keep apace.
take advantage of a real rat race.
As winners on that fatal day,
they sneer and look down upon ,
those who they betrayed.
EARTH LOVERS
Some walk lightly on the earth,
lovingly knowing a lifetime worth,
of sun and rain and scenes of growth,
will reward their plighted troth.
They accept the season’s sun and snow,
as aiding things that want to grow.
Others pretending ascendance over G-d,
dollars line the path they trod.
Touting the world’s obliteration,
they frighten the earth’s population,
with lies of earthly decimation
As the wealth they have contemplated,
arrives to keep them satiated.
IN UNIVERSITIES THEY HIDE
Embarrassed that Americans are free,
And not old till ninety three.
Harping that some blacks are poor,
despite the half that are middle class secure.
Knowing their students are not for life prepared,
despite their Marxist theories shared.
Dismissing our nations founders,
Those in Communism foundered.
In a safe citadel reside,
where from all criticism they now do hide |
THE WEAK GENERATION
All Americans once took pride,
in this nation’s continent wide.
This some Americans now resent,
claiming all rights despite their discontent,
The nation’s progress they wont sustain,
though their right to complain is deeply ingrained,
they choose to think they are handicapped as well,
their loud complaints they’ll never quell.
WHERE DO ALL OUR COMMY’S HIDE?
Like moles they’re working underground,
trying to turn our nation around.
In daylight they Democrats become,
though Socialism is their sought outcome.
Their main desire is to undermine,
our now free nation by design.
THE CLINTON RONDELL
They are doing it to us again Fa La,
“The great Republican plot” Fa La.
We Democrat’s efforts to smooth Americas path,
just garner a gale of Republican wrath.
Can it be our abundance of love,
Is not drifting down from above?
It is becoming apparent to all of us,
the rednecks don’t view us as a plus.
If only they could view life from our shoes,
they’d know that Carl Marx said it best.
Without change there can’t be real progress,
“The great Republican plot” Hoo Ha,
ignores the wisdom we possess Hoo Ha.
To the errors of Democracy redress Fa La.
CHANUKAH
I have a lack of confidence at times,
and fear for Jewry’s future clime.
Then Chanukah does me again remind,
that we are G-d’s chosen and I find,
courage from the miracles he assigned.
Like the Macabee’s triumph the bible describes,
against an enemy few could defy.
or the one day flask of oil that burned for eight,
these tend to restore my lack of faith.
A REVEALING COMPARISON
A comparison Democrats cannot bear,
is with american heroes which they forswear.
Not only does it make them look bad,
it invites criticism they’d rather not have.
Having called Washington a keeper of slaves,
and declared that Jefferson with slaves had lain.
Columbus they declared a genocidal brute,
General Lee they deprive of the nation’s esteem,
with charges which can best be described as a dream.
Now compare the above to these,
Bill Clinton discussing world events,
as his mistress relieves him of all stress.
Hillary’s white house Christmas tree,
a lesson in sexual diversity,
Senator Kerry welcoming his nations defeat,
who still wont accept his electoral defeat.
Senator Kennedy’s youthful date,
His girlfriend’s demise blamed on fate,
No wonder they must history rewrite.
If all of these came to light,
No spin would bridge the well spun cleft,
Between great Americans and the Socialist left
A SOLUTION SEEKING A PROBLEM
Remember when they first previewed ,
just vote for one and you’ll get two.
Appropriate laws now need review,
Bill tagging along is something new.
Vote for one and elect another,
a new career for husbands and others.
A great solution will arise,
fit each into a job their size.
Make Bill our representative to lower Slobovia,
and Hillary president of upper all Overya.
THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY (SOCIALIST PRIESTS)
Where is the Democratic party leading us?
To Socialism which is Democracy inverted.
(A twisted path with truth and history deserted.)
Their multi culturalism places barriers between each group.
And tosses aside the melting pot that every group includes.
Religious freedom disappears in every Socialist state.
The Socialist religion is forced upon any who can’t relate.
Just trade Jesus and Moses for Lenin and Karl Marx.
Thus you change your faith to please the Socialist state.
There is no room for debate.
Socialism is a political religion,
something our laws negate.
Let’s prevent an American theocracy!
There isn’t much time to waste!
RECIPE FOR ASTUTE POLITICIANS
When the brain dead start thinking,
where will they go?
We send them to Washington,
Their wisdom to bestow!
IS it any wonder,
our thoughts are not known.
It cant be the Washingtonian’s fault
they are brain dead you know.
ADVICE FROM ASTUTE POLITICIANS
Never accept any blame,
since you know you can fail again.
Find yourself some honest group,
that you can toss into the soup.
Since the mix is often bad,
And censure may be often had,
pass onto them the blame.
though it will be truthfully unclaimed.
Make them assume the guilt,
and outrage that you build.
Lard them with reproach,
make of them a roach!
So the public sees,
How guiltless you must be.
THE NATION’S FUTURE
What America has been America will be,
in its early days, some freedom could not see.
preferring to live under a monarchy.
Their opposition fought and prevailed,
constitutional government won though assailed.
Some Americans today wish to become,
slaves under a Socialistic state,
Assuring they will regress and stink.
The battle goes on and men that think,
fought before and will do so again,
to ensure a nation of free men,
under G-d will not end.
THE SUMMER OF LIFE
The time of growth when juices flow,
and foolish trends recognized and slowed.
A time for knowing where I stand,
In the alliance twixt G-d and man.
A time to body strength enjoy,
and mental competence employ.
A time to view the world of men,
compare and check, and check again,
that this blessed land where I began,
Still is the land of the free as planned.
THE LOST GENERATION
Somewhere between Heaven and Hell,
bleats a jangling, dolorous bell.
Marking where so many fell,
intoxicated by the please yourself spell.
Freed of concern for fellow men,
self centered and not needing friends,
Racing to know all of life before it’s end.
Until at ground zero they descend.
Headed where they cannot guess,
a future view they don’t possess.
But with old age enjoy life less,
Just not sure where they’ll egress.
THE ELDERLY_THE BRAVE
Each and every day I see them,
acquaintances and friends.
The bravest of the brave,
traveling slowly to the grave.
Each day they life resume,
in life’s shrinking room,
to more annoying wounds.
Life striving for anent,
prepares us for the end.
Till we as incompetent as babes,
See doctors seek to stave,
our entry to the grave.
THE SPIN MASTER
A recent liberal president,
political spin did invent.
A new and aberrant element,
replacing truth with prattle.
Making of debate a senseless battle,
Distorting truth till it’s a lie,
so the devious can get by.
They repeat lies till they seem factual,
and are seen by the flippant as actual.
Truth is abandoned fast and loose,
Becoming the accepted ruse.
While the quest for wisdom flees,
it’s replaced by falsehoods tenacious as a leech.
THOMAS JEFFERSON WROTE
“The whole art of government
Consists of being honest”
In modern political effusion,
with twisted logic a foregone conclusion.
Honest government can never come,
If the truth is always spun.
AMERICA’S FOUNDING FATHERS
No nation has been more blessed,
with founders who wisdom possessed,
To ignore that wondrous gift,
and to some divergent path shift,
Shows ignorance beyond belief,
Since eternal regret will be achieved.
DON’T BE JUDGEMENTAL
A phrase used by some to truth dispel,
and reasoned opposition to quell.
Also useful where lies are for sale,
despite how badly they may smell.
Like saying a brigand’s perfect day,
Equals one a physician donates without pay.
When spun some words become equal like gay and pray,
and Socialism and Democracy both acceptable ways.
“Socialism is better” or so they say.
Just ignore reason and you will see,
“since I promise the most you should vote for me.”
“Once we control things you will really be free?”
THE GARDEN OF EDEN REVISITED
On the west coast of our United States,
There is a garden of Eden where the citizens common sense negate,
rejecting rules of conduct that made their nation great.
They brag about what they call their broad minded ways,
accepting indecent behavior and describing it as gay.
Rejecting G-d’s commandments, the serpent holds them in its sway.
In the name of greater personal freedom, good manners they betray.
Like Adam and Eve they have much to repent,
and a stubborn insolence is always evident.
THE CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION (A.C.L.U.)
How diligently they strive,
that misbegotten crew.
Against some upright boys,
that only seek to do,
what they in their pledge recite.
Claiming with pride the right,
to do their duty to God and their country.
While the A.L.C.U. seeks to them defeat,
That help the handicapped across the street«
A NEGLECTED MIRACLE
The creation and education of new life, are prime duties of a man and wife. By that miracle nations are renewed, do less and G-d’s commandments you eschew. The degradation of our country’s way of life, is sought by our enemies who are rife. When our nation’s negation you pursue, You too have joined their soulless crew.
THE SPIDERS WEB
It spins a web of shining threads,
that silken image a death bed.
Man’s web is spun of silken words,
those entering it are cursed,
trapped like an inattentive fly.
The careless voter then wonders why,
spun phrases can turn black to white.
Manipulative skills change day to night.
They’ll promise to make your every wish come true,
If you’ll just give them latitude.
A SAD STORY
Until that day I had never seen,
a man more content with his life’s scene,
He loved his wife and son, age seventeen,
An auto accident cut short his dreams,
his son’s death made that day obscene,
Outliving ones only son blasphemed,
the life progression that he dreamed,
Months later on an oft traveled road,
seized by a impulse he never slowed,
and drove headlong into a tree,
That did not his loss relieve,
He lives on sore and sore aggrieved.
THE DREAM GIRL
To find the perfect woman requires an artists scan,
A line here, a shadow there, sharpen the eyes, touch up the hair.
Conceived by slow degrees, an apogee of loveliness is seen.
For a moment youth returned as a past happy moment I discerned,
Is never lost despite the rule, you can’t go back, quoted by fools.
A GENERATIONAL THING
When I was in school,
I had two parents and knew,
that at school days end,
I and each of my friends,
Could go home to parental care.
We knew that it was there.
Now hearing the duress,
single parents express,
I can but assess,
it’s a generational mess.
SEASCAPE
Upon The sea floors undulating sands.
a golden circlet diadem stands.
What once rested on a maiden’s brow,
lies recumbent in a coral garden now,
Having glowed amongst golden tresses then,
it remarks how principalities can end.
Neglected on it’s sandy bed,
it once emblazoned some lovely royal head.
PATTY’S NEW HOME
Adopting Patti Patricia was an unusual event,
Although we were sure she was to us sent.
Lillian and I were walking an outdoor mall,
when a young woman, I recall,
walked up and said “excuse me please.”
“you have two Pomeranians, would you like three?”
We went to her car, Patty crouched upon the floor,
No points for friendly did she score.
Describing the problem the lady said,
She just wasn’t for a family with children bred.
we agreed on a price and got her home,
But were cautious not getting close.
When we coaxed her inside warning bells rang
she just wasn’t ready to join our gang.
Finally she hid beneath the kitchen table,
to get her to eat we were not able.
After a few days she ate a bit,
But if we approached she had a fit.
then I came down with the flu,
it took a week to see it through.
I reclined on the living room couch,
After two days Patti came out and laid beside me on the floor
Thereafter the love within her soared and she was ours forever more.
Bathed and brushed her tangled coat showed orange and red and fairly
glowed, she lived with us till her demise
Through all her days perky and bright.
THE SOLUTION
Distressed that you can’t birth your own,
It is just a beginning they are yours till they’re grown,
So accept the joy of watching them grow.
Take the unwanted and give them a home,
As soon as they love you they’re really your own.
BREAKFAST AT BRENNANS
Walking New Orleans old town streets,
going to Brennans breakfast to eat.
We saw a dead horse under a tree,
covered with a plastic sheet.
We imagined it had spent its days,
taking tourists on their way.
On arriving at our breakfast site,
they loaned me a required coat and tie.
Coffee came first, Lil discreetly inquired,
“how is yours, mine needs more fire?”
Ten seconds later she had a fresh pot,
our waiters attention could not be topped.
We had eggs Benedict with real hollandaise,
in Flint hollandaise is a disgrace.
Other tables enjoyed bananas Foster,
a favored dish there always offered.
A soup bowl of bananas drowned in cream,
it looked delicious, calories obscene.
Such service we had never known,
or had a menu that elegant shown.
Then to our car heading Pensacola way,
where they just suffered a rough hurricane.
fortunately it did not New Orleans claim.
Evidence of its force was on the shore shown,
large yachts swept over the road and inland blown,
like toys thrown down by a child at play.
For luncheon a restaurant just reopened they say,
A mixture of miss matched chairs and tables,
a conglomerate, the best they were able.
There was a busy oyster bar,
where many slurped them raw with hot sauces charged.
Our fish and chips were readily supplied,
As another tables order we eyed,
a large whole fish with tail, head, and eyes.
Then off to Miami’s famous blue skys,
to visit brother in law Jerry and our sister Vi.
CONVERSING ABOUT AND WITH TOUGHY JOHN
O.K. Toughy your leash is attached,
It is cold out here so we will walk fast.
But with the ice and snow we must take care.
Caution and my traction soles will get us there.
What a relief your bladder must be fully loaded.!!
You can be the guide dog today,
pick the route and we’re on our way.
I can now guess where we are headed,
Where your recent interest can be abetted.
She gets excited when you come around,
but her mate wants you off their grounds.
He does not care for your company,
nor does he want her you to see.
Were it not for the fence I have a hunch,
he would certainly try having you for lunch.
Good day miss, yes toughy is quite large,
but you will agree it’s a Pomeranian you see.
We have his papers which that attest.
Yes he is handsome with white socks and white vest.
A throwback some have said to Siberian Huskies,
from which his ancestors were bred.
Most pomeranians are smaller today,
american breeders want them that way.
Excuse us miss, we need be on our way,
if we are to get any lunch today.
TUFFY NO!! you must never eat
anything you pick up in the street.
We might have to take you to the vet,
where medicine and a stomach pump you will get
Let’s turn left and head for home,
your mistress and Missy are there alone.
It will shorten your walk but please don’t sulk,
and each ten steps stop and drag your feet,
we are almost home, we’ll pick up the mail,
you have walked your mile without fail.
IMPLACABLE TIME
On occasion we hear where the court justice delays.
As when ten years from the day,
when the victim was slain.
While he in his grave equity awaits,
as the murderer delays his sentencing date.
THE FROG SYNDROME
Comfortably he squats,
Supinely in the pot.
As the fire glows,
the water warmer grows.
By degrees the bath will warm,
with no harm eschewed,
In comfort it will snooze,
while it’s life will leave,
By slowly rising degrees
In Venezuela they snoozed,
as Chavez their trust abused.
First he an election won,
then by slow degrees,
He greater power seized,
Drop by little drop,
the electorate then swapped,
freedom by degrees. The water got too hot,
As a dictator they now see!
Your freedom you must guard,
Or it the socialists will seize
Precious bit by bit,
they’ll take it by degrees.
Don’t be fooled too long,
as from freedom they set you free!
LOVE THE SOMETHING MORE,
Substituting sex for love,
and what love interjects.
An elusive lasting, intensity shove,
which love supplies, lost during casual sex.
THE GROOM’S LONGEST DAY
My lunch is over, four hours to go,
with my wife waiting, over times a no no.
When my work day ends at four p.m.,
then I can see my girl again.
Time always passes especially slow,
when you have somewhere you want to go.
With stock hoppers to fill and conveyers jammed,
its all dullsville and bland withstand.
I’m sure that I have never regarded,
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-43 show above.)