Ruminating

I believe it’s a sickness
I know not if there’s a cure
When a man can’t keep his hands
Off of her, her and her.
I think it’s an addiction
Like smoking, drinking, cards
Everyone knows quitting
Is just too hard.
I never thought them macho
Those philandering men
Putting the play on each woman
Be she tall, short, fat, thin.
Just let a female
Show up in their sight
They shift into overtime
As they chase through the night.
It is one more habit
They fall into
Often, not even inquiring
“Just who are you?”
But there seems to be a trigger
Some place in their minds
That the sight of a woman
Simply forces them to unwind.

April 1999

Every Year On April 1

Every year on April 1
The fishermen pursue some fun
They grab their lines, their poles, their bait
Eagerly they await this date.

This April Fool’s Day of every year
The very first day of April you will hear
The swoosh, the thud, the splashing about
As fishermen fish, and fish swim out.

And every year on April 1
Just as the fishermen want some sun
The clouds open up and it just pours
So the fishermen dash
To hand fish-selling stores.

1999

Yesterday is a Goner

Yesterday is a goner
Tomorrow is coming quick
Today I’ll mind my “P’s” and “Q’s”
So that I may have my pick.

My pick of all the things
Here waiting to be done
Today I’ll do everything
Tomorrow, I’ll have some fun.

Wait a minute, won’t you?
Wait a minute now
Let’s have fun this very day
Make this one daily vow.

For tomorrow becomes yesterday
And yesterday is a goner
Today is the only day
That you and I need honor.

I HAVE A LITTLE JOURNAL

(Mom typed this in all caps, so that’s how it is here.  Don’t know why.)

I HAVE A LITTLE JOURNAL
GOES EVERYWHERE WITH ME
UPON ITS PAGES, I RECORD
THE INTERESTING THINGS I SEE.

THANK GOODNESS IT WAS THERE
WITH PEN ATTACHED SO NEAT
THE OTHER DAY WHEN I TRAVELED
UP GOOD OLD WARREN STREET

FOR THERE I SAW A YOUNGSTER
SMALL AS A FOOT OR TWO
STRUGGLING TO RECOVER
(FROM HER PUPPY) A REALLY TATTERED SHOE

FARTHER UP THE BLOCK
THE TELEPHONE BOOTH IN USE
WHOEVER IT WAS TALKING
WAS SHOUTING OUT SOME TRUTH

SLOUCHING IN A DOORWAY
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BLOCK
A SORTA SEEDY FELLOW
TO HIMSELF, HE DID TALK

YET NO ONE WAS PLAYING HOPSCOTCH
NO ONE WAS PLAYING TAG
BUT IN THE HEART OF THE CITY
AN OLD MAN SIPPED SOMETHING FROM HIS BAG

A LOT OF BABYS WERE BEING STROLLED
AROUND AND AROUND THE PARK
IF THEY COULD TALK, WOULD THEY SAY
“LET’S GO HOME-IT’S GETTING DARK”

THE DINER GLISTENS SILVER
THE FIREHOUSE, DIRK BRINK RED
DINERS IN THE HOTEL WINDOW
WISHING THEY WERE HOME INSTEAD

ON OUR ROUGH AND TUMBLE SIDEWALKS
NO SKATEBOARDS RACING FAIR
AT LEAST, FOR ME, I SAY, THANK YOU

OUR HUDSON IS A VILLAGE
OUR HUDSON IS A TOWN
AT ITS EDGE, WHEN GOING OUT OF TOWN
LADY LIBERTY STANDS GUARD ON HER OWN

THERE ARE GOOD PEOPLE HERE
I’VE MET QUITE A FEW
AND EVEN IF I LIVE IN GREENPORT
I LOVE HUDSON, JUST LIKE YOU.

They Congregate

They congregate
To agitate
Or to restate
They postulate
Perhaps prevaricate
Try to substantiate
Often just berate
To watch them gyrate
Express themselves
Some attempts to moderate
Some seem to want to translate
Sounds more like Mutilate
I anticipate
It will all abate
Wouldn’t that be great?

Ah – The English Language

Ah — the English language
What a marvelous invention
One can allude to goodly deeds
Without harboring any good intentions
Why, one can speak in golden tones
Brag about the good they’ll do
It is only words, you know
There is no follow through
It’s all in how turn a phrase
The spin they put to it
The banker mouths such niceties
But the loan, will he renew it?
The little white lies that each of us use
We say”to keep the peace”
Hang onto your wallets, guys and gals
Dulcet tones precede a fleece.
The Liars Club needs no member drive
They can fill their roster easy
Just listen to the folks down in D.C.
Why, every one of them is cheesy.
Prevarication is a special art
I wonder, is it taught in political school
There may be no formal class
But our reps steer wide of the truth
This seems to be THEIR GOLDEN RULE.

Retrospective, Introspective — See Also Reflective

RETROSPECTIVE INTROSPECTIVE — See Also REFLECTIVE
Winter’s thoughts should be

Sort of “I wish I’d done”
“I’m glad I did”
“I should have done”
“What was I going to do?”
Are the thoughts that come rushing
through.

But 1998, at the very end
Gave very little reason
To mull things over
It was much to mild a season.

To conjure up your inner self
Is best done deep in a storm
Then when the weather breaks
Everything’s back to norm.

S0 — unless 1999
Can work itself up some snow
What I intended to mull over
I guess I’ll never know.

Some Scientists Went Out To Sea

Some scientists went out to sea
To farm in the water, Yessiree
To create sustenance for you and me.

But now they’re stumped
As the water they plows
For they’ve disturbed the flounder
Oh yes, and how!

You see the flounder
Gets sea sick quite easily
If the sea is rough and stuff?
He can feel extra queasily.

A flounder is a bottom fish
He lies there in the deep
So, please, water farmers
Do not disturb a flounder as he sleeps.

Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

Soon it will be Christmas
Are you preparing for it yet?
Yard sales and auctions
Such nice bargains one can get.

There was a new teapot for a quarter
A used bike for a wee bit more
And once I found a violin
If only I could play the score

Sometimes you find a collectible
A cup or plate or dish
I was so very stupified
When I once was offered one live fish.

There are slacks and shoes and gloves
Laid out upon the lawns
Upon a side street yesterday
I saw a couple of plaster fawns

But the best view I had of all
When driving around my town
Was a wedding dress a fluttering
A lovely wedding gown.

I inquired what went with it
Imagine my surprise
When the lady selling the thing
Told me clearly — and with dry eyes —

“Why, you can have it all
The dress, the shoes, the veil
I’ll even throw in, for one more buck
The bouquet and the male.

I backed away quite quickly
A groom — not what I sought
Instead I took the teapot
And was glad for what I bought.

New Money

A new “GOLD” dollar will be coined
Tn this year of 2000, so I’m told
Of course, there’ll be no ‘gold’ in it
Here is how the story does unfold

If will bigger than the last
The Susan B. Anthony one
The one we all thought was a quarter
After the minting was all done.

No – this dollar will be bigger
And painted with 14K GOLDEN PAINT
A wide smooth edge will make it unique
The joy of it all makes me quite faint.

Sacagawea, fine Indian maiden
Will grace the front of same
If her friends could see her now
Would they be proud or would they
feel ashamed?

1999