A Memory Revived

I stood fascinated as a teenage kid
Standing on the Connecticut Long Island shore
Watching American fighter planes
Dip down from the sky
With machine gun targets
Only a few miles away.

Soon they would be strafing Germans
So far away it seemed unreal—
It was just entertainment for us young folks
Who had come to the shore for a swim.
We knew little about Hitler
But were soon to learn so much more
As the war dragged on.
Recently, I find myself
Pulling out this particular memory
From my vast reservoir.
I use it to help me go to sleep at night.
I don’t know why it speaks to me now—
But it does.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on A Memory Revived

In the Middle

When your mind
is light with agenda
do you ever stop to think
where your intellect fits-in
compared to the many minds at work
in our vast world?

I think
that I am in the middle
Not especially bright
but not too dumb either.

I think
that I fit in the middle.
This conclusion reached
after considerate nocturnal research.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on In the Middle


Sometimes I read autobiographies
and though usually quite interesting
they make me feel deficient
because I remember so little of my past.

If I were to try I might assemble a few paragraphs
to lay out the memorable events of my life
they would consume but few pages.

And as my years advance
my history deminishes.

I only know for sure
that I’ve made thousands of baby rattles
and likely made some babies smile.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on SHORT ON MEMORIES


While being laid back in a beautician’s chair
to have my hair shampooed
I thought about the fact that within  two hours
I’d be laid back in much the same fashion
while sitting in a dentist’s chair.

The money spent to wash and cut my hair
would be less by far than what my tooth would cost me.

Still laid back and thinking thoughts like that
I added my recliner  stretched out to the max.

How much more pleasure that affords me
than those either designed for beauty or  for oral help.

In  a few hours I’d be back to where I’d come from
and I’d be reclining  with my lovely hair
and having one less tooth.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on THOUGHTS WHILE BEING LAID BACK


I wish I was without envy
but do not have the means
to stop its lurking
as I weigh my past.

I read a bit and watch TV
and see so many folks
who’ve done so much.

Too late for me to change my past
I wish I had another chance
to be a better man.

I trust that opportunities still exist
to add a smidgeon to the  goodness in the world
and that I’ll be less lacking.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on A TAD OF OLD AGE ENVY


There was a time  when time was not measured :
no rock formations or sun dials —
no Big Bens or grandfathers’ long pendulums–
no pocket’s holding tick-tocks —
nothing on bedside tables or on mantles —
no neon numbers to tell us of minutes passing —
no vocabulary to declare days or weeks or years.

My 20/20 calendar
 set me to thinking about things like that.
I began to wonder about early man —
to wonder if I were ever one of them.
How would it be to wake up and be —
to be without measuring tools
applied to sunrises or sunsets.
They had their shadows
and maybe that was their beginning.
They could not ignore them for forever
soon after they had the prowess we have now.
Some of them rose up to tinker.
They rose up as thinkers to begin the measuring.
And wise men are doing it still.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on MEASURING TIME

My Clock

I made the cherry clock
several years ago —
that is, I fashioned its face
and made room behind it
to hold a clever little device
that holds its “works”.

A  small shaft pokes through its face
to which one can attach hands
that go round and round and each day
“telling time”whenever I want to hear  —
that is, I must see it to “hear” it
as strange as that may seem.

It’s made of some beautiful cherry wood
that once graced a beautiful tree
and it now hangs on a wall opposite my recliner
big enough to easily see —
small enough so as not to be intrusive.

Every day I hear it tick-tocking
though it isn’t really going “tick-tocking”
but releasing a small intermittent sound
that I, with little imagination
because that’s what I want the sound to be.turn into “tick-tock”

Surely the Lord forgives me
and He must do so every day
as I relax and listen  and look
as time goes by — especially MY time.
Posted in Poems | Comments Off on My Clock


As I tapped the egg
on the edge of a nearby glass
and felt its shell yield
my fingertips tightened
and I pulled.

Moving my chicken’s gift
over  a pan of hot water
I opened its shell
and dropped a golden yolk
surrounded by a syrupy mass
that turned from translucent
to white in no time at  all.

I watched carefully
until I knew exactly
 what I wanted to occur:
a poached egg
ready to be scooped from the water
by a slotted spoon
and laid on some buttered toast
I had prepared beforehand.

Those motions:  just memories now —
and yet I still salivate thinking of them
and I’ve been known
to have them in my dreams

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on MY POACHED EGG


As one’s reality shrinks
his memories expand
’til one’s reality
is mostly remembering.

Old photos, if enlisted
nurture many of our  thoughts
of days gone by.

But they have their limitations
and compete with body issues
that can intrude upon
the blessings of our yesteryears.

Sometimes we would like to change
the way spent our time
and sometimes even our gladness
for how it was with us
gets smothered by how it is today.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on AS REALITY SHRINKS


My memories
play peek-a-boo with me.

They come and go
without my arranging.

But now that I have many years
I have time to stir them up —
and even have the audacity
to make some changes —
usually to make me better than I was.

Manipulating history is
what many of us are prone to do.

You probably do it, too.

Posted in Poems | Comments Off on MANIPULATING