Witch ya Brewin?

If ever you should stir a pot

It's best to check, how deep, how hot

And what is in the cauldron brew

Is it right or is it true

For if you talk behind a back

The pot you call your kettle's black

The LASTing Lecture

This is the beginning of my own eulogy... is it weird to write your own postscript before you up and die?

I just want to make sure that I have my final say... even if I am gone!

The LASTing Lecture

If you are dressed up nice for church

And I am in a box

Then chances are that I am dead…

Or just can’t pick the locks

But even though I cannot speak

Or even make a sound

You know I’m going to have my say

Before put in the ground!

For those who aren’t relations close

Or do not know me well

Your chance to flee has come and gone

As all my kids could tell

For when you’re in a lecture hall

There’s always time for walking

But it is rude to leave a room

When there’s a dead man talking

To Be Continued...

The only one I got that size...

This was written for and about my dad... It is also the first poem that I ever wrote... or at least remember writing down.

"The Only One I Got That Size..."

How do I say that I love you, now that your time is near

The same way that you told me so, throughout the passing years

“The only one I got that size,” was the way you let me know

How many times I heard those words, I have no way to know.

A hard man was my dad you see, a rough life he did lead

To say those words to a little boy, he rarely found the need

That’s not to say he didn’t care, or couldn’t tell me so

He just had a different way, to let his feelings show.

And even though that phrase of love, seldom reached my ear

I always knew that I was loved, throughout my growing years

While other father’s said the words, that we all long to hear

I had to settle for a phrase, that now becomes so dear.

“The only one I got that size, the words I’ll treasure so

The memories that they bring to me, the world will never know

And now your time has come to die, to leave this world of pain

At least I have a piece of you, that always will remain.

A treasure that your little lad, will always keep and hold

A phrase to pass to my own son, before he grows too old

“The only one I got that size,” I now know how you feel

To tell the truth… I always did, and guess I always will

The fourth fifth of July

This was written on the 3rd of July... for some reason (co-worker's talking about getting drunk) I was thinking about alcohol, even though I do not drink.

There’s rockets flying in the air

The red glare is a gleaming

Bombs bursting to the left and right

And the young kids all are screaming

But I am sitting kind of still

And feeling really tranquil

As I have finished my fourth 1/5th

With the bottles near my ankle

While others need a holiday

To cut loose and feel free

But all I need is al-co-hol

And a place for me to pee.

I got a question

I am always curious about words and phrases, and whence they sprang. Seems like a question mark would have been more appropriate to put at the beginning.

I got a question

With all the punctuation marks

From which there are to choose

I wonder why the “period”

Is what they chose to use

I think a better way to go

When women start to cry

Is to change it to a question mark

And ask God the reason why?

VRS

Dog Gone

This is the poem that I wrote for Ryan (A friend and co-worker) and his dog who died suddenly.

I feel your pain

It’s kind of sad

When loved ones have to die

But life is short

And shorter still

In dog years it does fly

But given choice

From which to choose

If I could pick my death

Surrounded by

The ones I love

Well… that would be the best.

VRS

We will know that we have arrived when we see the St. Bernard lying down with the chick

Manniversary

Written about that special day... as a reminder not to forget it ever!

Manniversary

I cannot count the seconds…

The minutes are not clear…

The days all run together…

Time spent with you, my dear

The weeks they are too many…

The months all feel like spring…

The years…?

I’M KEEPING REAL GOOD TRACK

Or my neck your sure to ring!

A Tramp in the bedroom

This was written as a dare from a co-worker... sort of like mental gymnastics. It is right on the edge of civility and decorum... but it works for me. And remember, "Unto the pure, ALL THINGS are pure."

A Tramp in the bedroom

I bet you wish you had the thing
That I have in my room
I get to jump it all the time
Though it doesn’t have a womb

For every other guy I know
A trapeze works just fine
But my wife will not climb on one
Unless she’s full of wine

So the best thing I have ever found
To get my groove thing on
Is jumping on my trampoline
From late at night, till dawn

When most guys think of bedroom toys
They’re thinking, “Young and hottie!”
But jumping on my bedroom tramp
Is anything, but naughty.

The Crying Game

This one is for my Mom who likes playing dominos... where as I like eating at Dominos...

The Crying Game

A tear compares to rain drops
This much we all should know
Yet other things are known to fall…
Why not the dom-in-no?

“A domino fell from my eye”…
I guess we all could say
But many more we’d need to cry…

To have enough to play!

Finger food

This started out about people flipping the bird at new drivers... somehow I ended up in the grocery store. I was envisioning a first time shopper (male) who does not realize that he is "doing it wrong." I guess that I just like twisting and making a play on words.

Finger food

I’m not sure what to make of this

For I have just begun

But they all like the way I drive

They think I’m number one

Now, they don’t say it with their words

Nor with a smiling face

But they are flashing me the sign

When I drive anyplace

They do not seem to mind the way

I shop… they don’t complain

But they get mad at my full cart

In the fifteen item lane

What is Civilly Right

Got no use for flag burners... Most of my "efforts" just fall out of my head, and land on the page. We were living in Oceanside California when this one was written. It could be the proximity to Camp Pendelton that stirred this one up and out.

What is Civilly Right?

There is a land so dear to me

From which I’ll never roam

It is the good old USA

The place I call my home

We have a symbol that we fly

So proudly does it wave

To many it does represent

The land, the free, the brave

So many words from pen they flow

About our sacred flag

But I would like to speak to those

Who treat it like a rag

“My civil right’s allow me to!”

I hear your shrill reply

But countless men for her have fought

And their blood you now deny

"What kind of man would burn a flag

That’s held so many tears

From mother’s who have lost a son

Throughout these many years?"

The answer to this question asked

About what kind of man...

It’s one who will wrap in the flag

But for her will not stand

So next time you cry “Civil Right's"

I hope it’s from a cell

But if the truth be spoken plain

I wish you’d go to hell!

Love Blossoms

This was my "Flower phase" when I could not get off of them... But I do like it.

Love Blossoms

A flower has no arms to fold

On loved ones you hold dear

A flower has no eyes to cry

And shower them with tears

A flower has no mouth to say

The words you long to share

But flowers show the ones we love

How much we really care

Eternal Embrace

The picture and the poem pretty much say it all. Small kids should not die... unless we are being reminded about how precious they truly are. Written for all who feel the pain of love lost too early.

Eternal Embrace

Some gifts we do not want to share

They’re priceless to behold

And that is why God took you back

Before you could grow old

Sometimes the maker of the clay

Creates something so rare

That even He, who gives us life,

The parting could not bear

So even though our time was brief

On earth we had to spend

Next time we meet I won’t let go

And then my heart will mend.

Sorrow Shared

This was meant for mother's. How can you weigh and measure sorrow... or hope to put an end to it?

Sorrow Shared

How heavy does the tear drop fall?

That’s in a mother’s eye

When life they brought into this world

Before them has to die

There is no way to comprehend

The anguish in those tears

They speak a language all their own

We hope to never hear

How heavy does the tear drop fall?

This never will be known

The only way to lighten them

Is by care and kindness shown

A Horsy Ride

They tell you to get back up on that horse... but did anyone think to give us more instruction?

A Horsy Ride

When we are young and oh so small

Before we learn to walk or crawl

We play a game of seek and hide

And then get our first horsy ride

We learn that riding can be fun

We learn to play and then to run

As life moves on and we grow old

There is this thing that we are told

When off a horse we have been thrown

We climb back up this much is known

We cannot simply walk away

To leave it for another day

This horse it must be ridden now

They tell you when but never how

To do this task that must be done

Our horsy ride has just begun

We stare the horse straight in the eye

And start back up to where it’s high

This lesson that we all must learn

The saddle waits for our return

It’s hard to see the reason why

The horse will buck and then we’ll fly

Back down to earth like stars we fall

Before we ride lets learn to crawl

Meeting

A random stream of words started to come out of me... then it came together... then it turned into this poem. Then I turned it into a short story about an old childless couple who adopt kids late in life... orphaned kids.

Meeting

I met a man the other day, just walking down the road

He asked me if I chanced to see, his family pet called “Toad”

I did not know just what to say, as I had just walked by

The biggest, flattest, frog of all, the truth would hurt this guy.

He said that all his family was, just home now saying prayer,

To tell him that his frog was dead, I did not even dare.

His frog was flatter than a cake, the kind made in a pan,

To break his heart by saying this would really hurt this man.

I felt that I must tell him how… what happened to his frog,

As I was getting ready to… along there came a dog!

The man said, “Toad, where have you been, I’ve walked a country mile?”

The dog just barked and licked his face; it gave me such a smile.

As I was watching all this joy, a truck came round the bend

I’d tell you all what happened next, but your heart would need to mend.

There’s a moral to this story… if you should love a toad,

You’d better keep them close to home, and don’t stand in the road!