Life Looks Back

man in green jacket

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Dusty top of the kitchen fridge

No worries about cleaning

Unless . . .

Taller guests come to play bridge

 

Windshield wipers, broken and worn

Needing to be replaced

But never . . .

Attempt when rain becomes airborne

 

Congested and overmatched table

Keeping life healthy and in order

Looking like . . .

Walgreens, filled with pill labels

 

Remembering school days past

Time to take another test

Pausing . . .

Hoping the “ditto” smell will last

 

Self-driving cars, soon to be the craze

Sitting in one, with perplexed look

Pondering . . .

Will the back seat driver be unfazed?

 

Raiding the freezer for a midnight snack

Hunger disrupts blissful sleep

What’s this . . .

Cookie Dough ice cream has been hijacked

 

Installing a terrific app on her “hip” phone

Grandson helps his Grandma out

Meanwhile . . .

With his flip phone, Grandpa feels quite alone

 

Finding a parking spot is tonight’s mission

Free valet parking

Guaranteed . . .

When you drive a manual transmission

 

So many toilet paper choices and sizes

What ever happened to having just one?

Confusing . . .

Mega and Super Mega waiting in disguise

 

Enjoying a late night film on television

Fearful of falling asleep

Always prepared . . .

Setting an alarm, allows for night vision

 

Reading and proofreading, reading once more

Retired English teacher

Never satisfied . . .

Writing a “perfect” text with words to adore

 

If you have enjoyed this bit of fun

Wait for the next round

When . . .

Doughnuts and coffee for everyone

doughnut on white ceramic plate beside ceramic mug on brown wooden table

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Summer Hammock

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Under the shade of a massive oak tree, Fred relaxes in his backyard hammock while enjoying a perfect summer afternoon.

A slight, friendly breeze helps to keep the bugs away, and Fred always thinks better when he spends time in his comfortable hammock.  He looks up into the canopy of branches in the tree above, and his eyes begin following an intensely busy squirrel which is scurrying back and forth . . . back and forth.

Fred’s thoughts begin to wander as he imagines his own creation of the “perfect” treadmill.  While his model will have the usual cup holder, he will add a necessary tray for his pepperoni pizza.

Thinking . . . How can a person calculate how much wood a woodchuck could chuck, if he could really chuck wood?

Worried about an upcoming family reunion, he recalls telling his close friend, Wally, “How will I remember all of their names?”

Wally confidently replies, “Easy, just call everyone ‘cousin.’”

Remembering his granddaughter’s wedding reception last summer, he asks his wife, Doris, to dance.  He tells her, “They’re playing our favorite song.”

It takes the couple a little longer to arrive on the dance floor, and the song is nearly half over.  Fred calls out to the DJ, “Play it again Sam!”

Several minutes go by.  The “always in a hurry” squirrel pauses and thinks to himself, “What is that noise?”

Looking down, he spies Fred blissfully sleeping and dreaming, and his loud snoring serenades the entire backyard with . . . well, almost charming tunes.

Midnight Smorgasbord

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I woke up in the middle of the night last week.  A muffled series of sounds were coming from the kitchen, and no doubt my beautiful wife was up to something.

She had been fasting all day after we both enjoyed a pleasant mid-morning brunch., and now her hunger harshly interrupted her need for sleep.

I rose out of bed and began to creep silently toward the kitchen.

In the meantime, my wife was in the process of raiding the fridge for a midnight smorgasbord.  She had laid out a scrumptious feast on the kitchen counter with all kinds of tasty treasures.

She selected only three items, and was more than ready to sample a scrumptious, fried chicken leg and a cold piece of her favorite pepperoni pizza.

As I approached the kitchen, the only light was coming from the still-open refrigerator.  As I slipped unannounced into the kitchen, my wife’s midnight buffet was consuming into its final course . . .  dessert of course!

She was enjoying her final choice . . . a slice of decadent triple chocolate cake.

She turned and was shocked to see me up at this midnight hour (since I am usually a very sound sleeper).  She confidently told me, “I’m not night eating.  It’s time for ‘nunch.’”

With her mouth full, she asked, “Please pass me another slice of this yummy cake?”

blueberries cake chocolate chocolate cake

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Coffee By the Cup

assorted variety of foods on plates on dining table

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Wednesday morning broadcasts the arrival of another breakfast meeting for Billy and his other retired friends.  Once a week, he meets his five best buds for hot coffee, delicious food, and welcome conversation at Bob’s Diner.

He always wears his favorite plaid, flannel shirt (perhaps you recall Al Borland from “Tool Time”).  His faded, tractor green “John Deere” cap covers his nearly bald head, but his smile always catches his favorite server’s attention.

Flo has been working for the diner ever since Mel’s Diner closed (you might remember Mel and Alice—they became quite an item).  She holds her own with humor and a smile, always managing to take care of Billy and his pals every Wednesday morning.

As Flo is scurrying around the diner with her always full coffee pot, she sets it down near Billy’s table as she takes another order.  Billy appropriates the full pot of freshly brewed refills for his own private use, and sets it right next to his nearly empty cup.  He tells Flo, “Thanks my dear.  Now you won’t need to worry about refilling my cup.”

Billy remarks to his friends, “Ain’t life great!”

Billy enjoys his coffee, probably too much.  The manager takes a look and shakes his head . . . as his profits shrink with every coffee pot Billy drinks.  He motions Flo to come over for a moment, and they share a quick word.

Flo formulates a plan to take care of Billy’s endless and bottomless coffee drinking.

By the end of the breakfast meeting, the gray-haired trio times two has solved just about all of the world’s problems for another week.  Billy has nearly eaten a whole hog as he has devoured crispy bacon, honey-baked ham, and perfectly browned sausage links, along with the usual fixings of hash browns, eggs, and pancakes.  It’s time for the check please.

Billy surveys his bill, and his smile stretches to a frown.  Reading on, he sees that he has been charged for a whole pot of coffee.  He thinks to himself, “What’s this?”

Billy’s check has a special note at the bottom, “Cheaper to drink coffee by the cup instead of by the pot!”

red and white coffee set

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Waiting for a Call

woman wearing gray topcoat during snow season

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Waiting for its urgent call

Winter’s snow waiting to strike

Where is winter hosting fun?

Playing games in the Klondike

 

School children watch outside

Dreaming of a snow day soon

School’s steady beat marches on

Soon, everyone sings a new tune

 

Weather forecast predicts snow

Snowplows prepare for battle

But, this storm slides to the north

Hmm, snow dumps on Seattle!

 

Outside, waiting for a call

Snow shovel dreams of snowfall

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Monday Memories: Fairy Tale Dream

This poem has been updated from its original post from February, 2019.  Take note of a technique used in the style which links each pair of verses together.  

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Jack hurriedly climbs the lofty beanstalk

Hoping to take Cinderella out for a walk

 

Cinderella looks out her window, slightly bitter

Left with Little Boy Blue, her tiny, glass slipper

 

Little Boy Blue feels like enjoying an afternoon nap

Hearing Snow White calling awakens him in a snap

 

Snow White hopes the Seven Dwarfs hurry back

Fearing the Big Bad Wolf will hide her in his sack

 

The Big Bad Wolf plans to enjoy a scrumptious feast

Hiding from Little Jack Horner who lives in the East

 

Little Jack Horner feels too full to devour a pie

Leaving the sweets for Jill who says, “Oh my!”

 

Jill loses her footing, tumbling down and down

Causing Jack to wake up, with a sleepy frown

 

Little Jack’s wonderful dream felt pleasing and fine

Reminding him that more stories wait for next time

 

Writing a Classic

Pardon a bit of sarcasm and humor in this poem.  Sometimes, the early morning air produces something to laugh at and have fun with.  In all seriousness, I enjoy writing very much, and I appreciate you for stopping in.  And remember, it is okay to smile and laugh as you read this poem.

black vintage typewriter

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Sitting at my writing desk this morn

Feeling quiet peace, verses reborn

 

Actually sitting in the kitchen

Its table welcomes a mind, come in

 

At least the coffee is always close

Never allowing a mind to doze

 

Sometimes, words flow as a writer crafts

Other times, words can’t even complete a draft

 

Robert Frost’s classics, all awaken

Images of “A Road Never Taken”

 

Wondering now, what words will gather

Searching for a poem, words come faster

 

Hemingway understates how he writes

“There is nothing to writing” . . . just write

 

Just writing . . . crafting thoughts into words

Words gather now, like wild zebra herds

 

These best efforts resemble “pig slop”

Destined for the pig sty, one more flop

 

Sarcasm aside, writing with pride

Readers, appreciating the ride

 

Few writers ever craft a classic

As for me, never changing tactics

 

Well, tomorrow will bring much better

Fortunes change, wearing lucky sweaters

low light photography of books

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Rebel and the Red-Neck Bears, Chapter 3

brown wooden house near trees

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Here is the final chapter of the series.  If you missed either of the first two chapters, here are the links.

As Chapter 2 wraps up, Rebel’s curiosity is bring him more and more trouble.  In the meantime, the three bears are nearly back home.

With one hot tub left to check out, Rebel cautiously approaches.  He feels the warm water beckoning him to jump in . . . and he does, clothes and all!  The steamy water feels just right as he slumps down in the perfectly sized tub.  Hmm, he feels like he could stay here forever.

Soon, the perfectly heated water serenades Rebel to sleep.  His long trip away from home has left him more fatigued than he realizes.

A few minutes later the Bears arrive back home.  Finished with their walk, yet famished, each of them looks forward to enjoying a warm breakfast bowl of porridge with some of the berries that they harvested during their uneventful walk.

“What’s this!”  Papa Bear roars with frustration and anger.

In the front yard, all three bears witness the carnage done to their treasured four-wheelers.  In shock and disappointment, Papa Bear sees that his machine has moved a few feet from its accustomed parking spot, its headlight has been left on, and a huge blob of bubble gum is stuck to the seat.  Mama Bear, in disbelief, agonizes that one of her back tires is flat.

Junior Bear screams, “Who crashed my bike into the maple tree?”

Sure enough, Junior Bear’s four-wheeler is crumbled like an accordion against the magnificent tree, which now sports a nasty divot in its massive trunk.

Papa Bear’s temper is beginning to swell as the family proceeds into the house.  In the living room, they find that their sturdy, comfortable chairs are untouched.  “Thank goodness for that,” whispers Papa Bear in a quiet, uncertain voice.

“Oh my dear!” Mama Bear cries out as her eyes scan the rest of the room.

The three view the damage done to their prized video screens.  Paper Bear finds his remote . . . well, at least the shattered pieces left on the floor.  Mama Bear stands over her smashed video screen, which is lying upside down on the floor.  Both are feeling their usual calm demeanor heating up into a fiery rage.

Junior Bear frantically surveys the room and cannot find his brand new mobile game device.  He growls, “Someone is going to pay for this!”

Now all three of the Red-Neck Bears feel their emotions burning hot—nearly as red as the scarves that are tied around their necks.  Junior Bear runs upstairs to the bedrooms, looking for his game device.  Sadly, he returns downstairs empty-handed, but he reports that their bedrooms appear untouched.

Hurrying through the kitchen, the family barely notices the full bowls of cooling porridge waiting on the table for their starving appetites.  Their hunting instincts lead them all out the door into the backyard.

Papa Bear walks up to his gigantic hot tub, and he finds a pair of beat-up sneakers and dirty socks lying on the ground.  Hmm, someone has been in the backyard, too.  Mama Bear hurries to her tub, and she immediately finds Junior Bear’s gaming device drowned and dead at the bottom.  She begins to “bear” her teeth.

“Mama, Papa! yells Junior Bear.  The Bears surround the final and smallest hot tub.  Sleeping in the tub is Rebel, the thirteen-year old, delinquent boy, who has turned their tranquil and contented world upside down.

All three of the Bears hiss and growl!  Their razor-sharp teeth are showing, and their ferocious claws look ready to carve up the skinny, teenage boy from the big city.

Jumping up awake in an instant, Rebel takes one look, and his final expression says it all.  He is frightened, and his face turns totally white with terror.  Will he be the Bears’ morning meal?

Screaming, he jumps out of the hot tub and rushes back into the woods—barefooted and soaking wet!

Rebel continues running all the way home.  When he reaches his destination and safety, he tumbles into his warm bed—exhausted from his frightening ordeal and escape from certain death.  He has never felt so frightened or tired.  Sleep overtakes him almost immediately.

But hang on . . . the story is not finished yet!

Several hours later, Rebel wakes up from a deep sleep as the morning has started without him.  He quickly realizes that he has been dreaming the strangest of all hallucinations.  His shoes are scattered in a corner of his disheveled room.  His dry clothes and socks are piled on a chair, and he is wearing his worn and faded “Three Bears” pajamas.  Everything looks and feels just right.  He sighs and smiles . . . being home feels just right!

Meanwhile back in the woods, the Bears have returned from their usual morning walk.  Their four-wheelers, waiting for an afternoon ride, are perfectly parked in a straight line in the front yard.  In the living room, the furniture and video equipment look like they are ready for another day of use.  Junior Bear looks out the kitchen window, and he is already thinking of some hot tub time after breakfast.

The Bears’ morning is going just right.  Their world is unspoiled here deep in the woods.

Their porridge has cooled, and it tastes just right.  Everything else looks and feels just right . . . except!

Junior Bear walks past the kitchen counter and discovers three red-colored scarves resting there.  He asks, “Where did these red scarves come from?”

Haiku Series #47 (Humor)

Sad, But True

Another gray day

Wintertime, always dreadful—

Must be Ohio

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A frosty and gray day in central Ohio (January, 2019)

 

Quick Exit

Waiting at the dentist

Somewhere, a drill does its thing–

Hey, I’m out of here

business care clean clinic

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Miserable

Thunderstorm pours down

Soaking waterproof matches—

No campfire, cold food

selective focus photo of obalte green leafed plants during rain

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Monday Memories: The First Tree Is Mine

Today’s “Monday Memories” poem was previously published in February, 2019.  Enjoy its short, yet humor-filled verses which tell a bit of a story.

gray concrete roadway beside green and brown leafed trees

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Farmer Fred lives near an insignificant, small town

His atrocious driving skills are very well renowned

 

He pops into town usually once a week

Leaving his farmhouse to take a peek

 

After a day filled with nothing and too much fizzle

Fred stops over at a local tavern to wet his whistle

 

He orders a cheeseburger and a sweet sarsaparilla

When a wayward woman spots this handsome fella

 

Marge is a forgotten classmate from their high school

She navigates quite well when playing a game of pool

 

She stumbles over and sits down—a bit wobbly

Ordering another drink seems to be her hobby

 

Fred informs Marge that his driving is now restricted

He has been crashing too much and been ticketed

 

Marge asks, “How do you then drive that old Ford truck?”

Fred replies, “I just need a navigator to bring me luck”

 

He asks her, “Interested in helping me one final time?”

“Sure my dear friend!  But . . . the first tree is mine!”