Archive for December, 2013

Winter Rain

Posted: December 24, 2013 in Everyday Life, free verse, poetry, Uncategorized
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As the street lights hum to life
roads reflect with orange flavored sheen
car lights bright of red and white
leave trails behind the wiper blades
Mercury vapor parking lots,
piled high with snows remains,
white hot stains of rocker salt
are washed away by the winter rain

many nights of snow and skidding ice
with no hope of warmer days
we bundled up in down feather coats
and followed the orange plowers sand and blade.
we slowly walked in our winter boots
our minds wandered to nicer days
when winds would change from north to south
and blow in the warm winter rain.


Winter Rat’s Wonderland

Posted: December 23, 2013 in Uncategorized

+16 degrees F, 10 inches of snow, cloudy, 20% chance of flurries.

IMG_1378That sort of says it all, doesn’t it. I love it, …….. for the first 15 minutes. But discounting the weather, the four or five hours of the power outage last night and scurrying around by candle light locating AA, C and D batteries. Oh ya, we first had to find the candles by way of the illuminated screens of our cellphones. Ya, love it, …..winter, so much fun.

It is snowing here again! Shit! I hate it. There are no redeeming qualities in snow, ice or winter.

I don’t give a rat’s ass for skiing, sledding or snowmobiling either. Wait, I forgot ice fishing, hate it! I DO give a rat’s ass if I get stuck, have to scrape ice and shovel walks. But I don’t mind the opportunity to say rat’s ass. Winter’s the only time of year I feel like using it.
It’s a beautiful season. Beautiful if you like the sound of the furnace running or icicles falling off the eve. Wait I forgot about freezing my butt off. Love it, very comfortable, put on the heavy socks and the wool sweater and freeze your butt off. It’s wonderful, a regular winter wonderland.

The clock begins today. The calendar is on winter day one. What’s it going to be this year, record low temps, breaking records of most consecutive days below freezing, earliest or deepest snow? Really looking forward to it, breaking records, looooove breaking records. How about just once having the record for warmest winter, least snow and lowest heat bills. Then I’ll celebrate. Otherwise Mr. Weatherman, I don’t want to hear about it.

Maybe DSS can write a wonderful poem about it.  Humph! Winter! Phooey!!

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( E’s yearly winter rant, sorry, I have no idea where he got “rat’s ass”, I apologize.  John )

Summer in December

Posted: December 15, 2013 in free verse
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What’s that feeling you get
hearing that voice or song or music
who you were with, the thing you were doing
the time, the song,
the black and white picture in your mind
the favorite shirt, the wild hair.
What is that feeling
The down deep feeling
sort of good but empty, sort of sad,
how many years and how many are gone
Getting what we need,
But so many left behind
Listening under the near full moon
The words, the notes,
with that dusty woman.
The hair scent and the feel of goose bumped skin.
Feeling summer in December


Winter Craps

Posted: December 11, 2013 in Uncategorized

Though the streets are glazed in ice
and winter’s thrown its loaded dice
what would be the greatest chance
the sun joining winter’s dance

But it seems he’s stacked the deck
We can’t bet, can only check
winter’s won this early round
we are just a few chips down


Sorry I let E out again, he thinks he’s a poet now.



Posted: December 6, 2013 in Everyday Life
Tags: , ,

It’s becoming more difficult to think of improving myself. It’s not as if I think I have reached some pinnacle of success in my life and I have no room for improvement. It is not because I have stashed a pot load of money and I’m comfortable beyond anything imaginable either. Dream on about that one. But so far, all through my life I have worked hard each year to improve my existence. In small nibbles each day, I have done pretty well, considering my beginnings. Now I am looking at life differently. I see myself as not exactly living my life but now it is more like I am living my mortality. I think it is because I am getting older. Something that I have never thought much about in the past.

I think we can look at our existence in either of two ways. And it depends on whether you are one of those people who see the glass half empty or half full. If you see facing your existence as half full you call it life, if you see your existence as half empty you call it facing your mortality.

Don’t get me wrong, I have thought plenty about death. But it’s our mortality that I’m thinking about. I have lost many of my friends and family in years past. This year alone I have lost three friends, all younger than I. One was lost to a traffic accident, one to alcohol and liver disease and the most recent and really very troubling, one from a brutal murder, yet unsolved. So of course I have thought of death but I think that mortality is about more than just our death. Our mortality actually begins on the first day of our life. I’ve been reading a little more of Jack Kerouac lately; which may explain these ramblings. In an interview he was asked about the birth of a newborn baby and what he thought about it. He said that he felt very sad for the child because there was now another person born into this world that will have to face her own death.

Kerouac was not talking only about the death event of that individual child, he was talking about going through life facing our mortality. Jack not only was looking at life as a glass half empty but he believed the glass had a crack in it and was leaking.  It may explain his zest for life, his continual search for action, meaning and words. He started living his mortality very young and maybe for good reason, he died at a relative young age. Some say he abused his body like he was invincible, I believed he lived not like he would live forever, he lived the way he did because he was innately aware of our mortality.

Mortality, that little thing we keep in the back of our mind, that thing we don’t want to think about, that realization that we are aging and someday our life will end. It doesn’t matter how or when you die, whether it is by accident, disease or murder as my three friends experienced this year. They are each just as dead although they died of different ages and causes. But they may have begun dying, living their mortality, the moment that they were born, the same as me. They’ve just experienced the event of death, what I hope will be years before me. But I indeed will experience it also, death I can only hope will happen naturally. I think the events that my friends all experienced were traumatic and tragic . They also, just like I am now, may have experienced their own mortality for many years before their tragic demise. One or two may have also experienced years of traumatic and tragic mortality for years before their lives ended.

So how do you think I should live the remainder of my life, live it like some, like there is no tomorrow trying to grasp as much of what I have left to enjoy not wasting a moment, like Kerouac? Or should I ignore my mortality and live my existence like I will live forever? I really don’t feel that either will affect when or how I’ll die but I do believe which way I choose will affect how I will live.


Gerald Watswigger rose from his chair, adjusted and buttoned his pants and buckled his loosened belt. With shirttail eschew, glasses poorly aligned,  sock footed he walked to the kitchen. It was only one hour after dinner but he had to satisfy his overwhelming craving for “something sweet”. He stood leaning, staring into the cool open door of the refrigerator.

For the last few years, Wiggs had let himself go and he was just beginning to realize it. He knew something had to be done. His tightened leather belt was on the last notch and the buckle was seldom seen these days from under his extending “pot belly”. He now had metamorphosed into what he remembered as his father. The same strong over six-foot physique but carrying the family trait of swollen gut. He thought he looked as young as ever but catching a glimpse of the old man in the mirror brought him down to the reality that the years, careless eating and drinking and hard work were chiseling him into the form of someone he had sworn he would never let appear.

He was deciding to face it, he looked and felt like shit. He knew he needed exercise. It had been four years since the treadmill in the basement had been turned on. The electronic odometer/speedometer/calorie counter no longer worked. The battery having been removed but never replaced and the model number of the nickel size disc long forgotten. “Hell with it.” the pain in his chest would subside as it always did and he would feel more like doing it tomorrow.