Tuesday, February 14, 2017

After the Blizzard

After the Blizzard

The blowing snow is done,
today the sun has won.
Our vista, white and blue,
all of the world seems new.
At yesterday, now we sneer,
but cold winds we did fear.
That, with its worries, is gone,
today we welcomed the dawn.
Blustery weather, have we,
splendid times too, you see.

during the blizzard

after the blizzard

Tuesday, January 31, 2017



the silent fresh snow
icicles glisten from eaves
cold does have beauty

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Month of Janus

Month of Janus

In my mind, I'm sitting in a pub
with beer bubbles tickling my nostrils
while listening to Japanese songs of
fellow patrons. These days I look
up from my book to sip
my luscious cocoa.

In my mind, I'm pedaling
on an unpaved path
to Coonamessett Pond. I smell
the mixed bouquet of
woodland blooms, pine and
humus. Now with my cane I totter
at the parking lot to go into
Shaw's supermarket.

In my mind, I'm at the tepid
water of a tropical sea,
the rhythm of the water
lapping on the beige sand.
Today on the dense plastic
bathing stool, soothing water cascades
from the flexible shower.

Janus, of ancient Rome, the god
of beginnings and of change,
to whom the first month is dedicated,
reminds us to hold the past
and to cherish the now.

"unpaved path to Coonamessett Pond"

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Ashore and Off Shore

Ashore and Off Shore

Half awake, not yet dawn, I hear
the low moan of the mournful
groan of the fog horn. Seven seconds on,
seven seconds off, the horn warns
sailors and lets us ashore know of
sea mist.

The pleasing scent of the fog permeates,
the dawn light exposes
a world without shadows,
a landscape of soft color outlines.
Deadened sounds of nature and
of human actions add to the fog's
mystique creating a rare, strange stillness.

Slowly the fog breaks up, the bright colors,
the clear sounds and far vistas return.
For a while a curious domain showed itself,
now the other reality is back.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Apologies to Ogden Nash

Apologies to Ogden Nash
(I wrote these in the style of Nash. Some of his are off-color and so are some of these.)

Teens delight in intense and wild,
geezers in light and mild.

Buzz, buzz wee fly,
I do wish you'd die,
Come, come busy spider,
now the fly's inside her.

Bill shows a broad smile
to hide all his bile,
he shows a odd grin,
being he's full of gin.

They used the phone when they drove,
they both drowned at the cove.

Worthy, valiant astronaut
in space do you fart a lot?

From the bottle they take a swig,
in a few months her belly's big.

At the beach lots of lotion
washed away by the ocean.

Raw onion's smell is strong
when cooked there's no pong.

Lots of cabbage Bill did eat
now his stomach sounds retreat.
Then he ate a pickled beet
now his tongue looks like raw meat.

Bill was stopped, a cop he met,
Bill was caught, because he sweat.

Billy boy sat on a berm
blissfully chewing on a worm.

Poor dear old friend Lorn
he played leap frog with a unicorn,
now the silly hunk
is cuddling a skunk.

This said to be the world's shortest poem.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Early November

This piece is another look at street life in my neighborhood.

Early November

The eastern sky brightens making long shadows. Teenagers
with tightly buttoned jackets quick step to the yellow bus.
Then come the walkers, some with their exuberant dogs, some without.
They come alone or together, chatting and giving
chirpy greeting to whomever they meet.

By morning tea, come the joggers and cyclers.
Their sweatsuits vary in style and varying in age
as do they.

When the buses return during the brilliance of mid day,
the youths carry their jackets and warm-wear.
Now they chatter breezily with a bit of frisky jostling.

With the sun low in the western sky, walkers appear.
Home from work and daily chores done, a brief walk
to the pond seems to invigorate and revive.

Soon the cold and bitter weather with the hindering snow
will defer the idyllic activities. Until then,

"walk to the pond"

Monday, October 31, 2016

A corner of Home

A Corner of Home

In the captain's chair
from some yard sale,
at the green enamel table,
from a Sear's catalog 60 years ago,
I sit reading and sipping tea
at the window.

Through the window
the range of life passes.
People are walking,
dawdling to a school bus,
pushing baby carriages;
quahoggers with rakes and buckets
heading to the pond.

The feeder brings birds
along with unsatisfied squirrels;
and now and then
a rabbit or skunk or coyote
or feral cat.

But a different comfort
is sought;
going out,
joining the world.

The chair is comfort;
leaving it is easier,
knowing it's there
to come back to.

(this is an older work which I revised)

Saturday, October 15, 2016

Ode to Cell Phones

(another cell phone piece)

Ode to Cell Phones

These days if I forget my phone,
to retrieve it I'll go back home.
Cell phones are something new to me,
back then there was none,‭ ‬you see.
Though I lived without seventy years,
it's a neccesity now,‭ ‬it appears.
A useful even lifesaving‭  ‬aid.
a purchase I'm glad I made.
My,‭ ‬how our lives are better,
to wires there's not a fetter.
It is used too much by a few,
as often is with something new.
Now in the digital age we are,
going,‭ ‬who knows how far.

Graphic  from web

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Times Change

Times Change

Years ago with flat tire, away from a phone,
I drove on the rim to a shop to use a phone.
A month ago the car wouldn't start,
with cell phone I call AAA, in minutes help came.
Times have changed.

Years ago men's rooms were silent places.
The rule was no one talked once he entered.
Now there is a cacophony of chatter
as fellows are calling to here and there.
Times have changed.

Dick, Flash and Buck had amazing gadgets,
adults told us they weren't possible.
Dick, Flash and Buck today would be amazed
to see our gadgets including our phones.
Times have changed.

Not heard is “Where's a public phone?”
Where can kids now check for coins?
Where can Superman change today?
Where can sleazy private eyes hide?
Times have changed.

picture from web

Thursday, September 15, 2016

A Visit to the Doctor

A Visit to the Doctor

Every three months or so
to the doctor I must go.
The lab reports she reads
and advises about my needs.

She said I had weight to loose,
I knew well, this wasn't news.
To comply I worked hard,
to get rid of all that lard.

I struggled pound after pound,
by twenty my weight is down.
Happy am I , as is she,
healthier surely now I'll be.

picture from web