lousy timing with silver lining

This weekend is my son’s engagement brunch
(That is when you are late for breakfast-
But way too early for lunch),
Yet with all the happiness and congratulations
A bittersweet taste and some deep frustrations
This is also one year, since my father was laid to rest
It was a difficult year, a hard year at best,
Yet there is a silver lining in the dark ominous cloud
He met my son’s future wife, and was very proud,
So despite the fact that my family has lousy timing, (It is a fact)
I know he has approved of this pact

Failing Successfully

Success is so very important,
We are so conditioned, to be very potent
In the business world, or life in general
As crazy as can be, or very rationale,
Success dictates our life, our daily routine
Whether you are a pauper, or the mighty queen,
However, how do we measure success?
What is the yardstick for progress?
When is it a blessing? And when is it stress?
We are painting failure with good words,
So that even a huge defeat becomes a win
And we just keep taking it on the chin,
So now, I have a good system nailed,
When I bomb, I just successfully failed,
This way I cannot lose no matter what I do
Even if I don’t have the slightest clue
If I succeeded – here again I win,
And if I failed – I fail with a grin

The Effect Of Gamma Rays On Man In The Moon Marigolds

So here we are, mid January
Not too much snow, weather is un-scary,
And it does stand to reason,
That during this winter season,
We should be freezing, and be very cold,
Yet if we look, see and behold,
The only storms we have are the solar storms,
That our sun – throws our way and transforms,
Our planet into an electromagnetic mess,
And I must confess,
These gamma rays,
Do affect the man in the moon marigolds,
As life continues to unfold

A Boat Less Sailed

It has been said-
(At least so I have been told),
That you cannot control the wind,
(Not even for the entire world’s gold)
On the other hand – you can succeed without fail
To stay on track – if you do adjust the sail,
This sounds very logical, romantic and sensible,
And one might go as far as comprehensible,
I found myself in a storm, mighty wind – and me afloat,
Unfortunately without a sail to adjust, as I am on a motor boat,
And so, the wind takes me where it desires,
I shall be drifting, until it expires

Zoe’s Birthday

To my little Zoe – my little princess,
That loves to run around in her pink dress,
You are now five years old, can you believe it,
You have grown quite a bit,
You are going to school, like a young lady,
I guess it is because you are no longer a baby,
You take good care of your younger sister Emme,
She too is almost three,
So here I got you “Winnie The Pooh”, he is a little treasure,
Many generations of children had the pleasure
And grew on his stories for years
After all, why else do we have Teddy Bears?
For Emme I got little Nelson, a smaller bear,
After all, Nelson and Winnie are known as the Mandela pair,
Happy Birthday Little Princess
From your Saba that loves you very much.

Wailing Walls

Have you ever tried talking to a wall?
Use any means, be direct, send email, or make a call,
Somehow, it will remain a one-way communication,
With words coming and going in only one direction,
Firewall, drywall, whitewall, stonewall, or enwall,
Big, small, short, tall, rise or fall, the Wailing Wall,
It is useless talking to a wall, a waste of time,
Be it a simple sentence, verse, or rhyme,
Although for over two thousand years, my people insist,
And keep trying to convey with little paper notes, they persist,
Yet so far without any real luck,
It seems that what was – is still with us, stuck,
So cry, wail, sob, moan and groan,
Between you, me and the wall, you will remain alone,
It is easier to be passing a kidney stone,
And the walls, they will remain long after we are gone

End To Logic

He was standing on the beach
His toes dug into the warm sand, white and bleached,
The sirens were calling him again,
Or were their voices just inside his head, his brain,
Slowly he started to walk towards the sea,
A few steps and the water was up to his knee,
A few more steps, and it was shoulder high,
Not a sound, not even a sigh,
Another step or two, and then stillness,
Even the birds silent went and the waves regressed
Gone for good, as if never was,
End to logic; why? Nobody knows


I deserve to be happy! it is required,
Yet in order to be happy, I must be inspired,
Indeed to be happy, is highly desired,
Besides, happiness; is very much admired,
Being happy, one has to be- appropriately wired,
I know I will be immensely happy, before I am retired,
Being unhappy does make one very tired,
It does come down to a philosophical question,
Does happiness depends on earthly possessions?
How does one know what happiness is?
Unless happiness was taken away, and it is no longer his,
How can we tell what is good, if we know not bad?
What is sweet, without a little sour, just a tad?
How do we appreciate what we have?
Until it is taken away (or at least cut in half)
How does one know happy, unless one is sad?
If I want to be sane, do I need to be mad?
It is a question of balance – or so it seems,
Since I dream when I am awake, and I am awake in my dreams


Over the years, I fathered four children
One of each,
So now, you wonder, please explain!
Since there can be only women, or men!
How possible, one of each? Is it true?
Maybe you meant two and two?
One of each is true, each a world of their own,
No resemblance, not a copy, nor a clone,
Each his/her own personality, unique,
Each his/her own way will seek,
But at the end of the day,
As I slowly turn white from grey,
With each settled on his/her own way,
With grandchildren, at the backyard at play,
Regardless of how unique we are, how distinct,
We stand as one, a family, all linked.

Gone Fishing

We used to go fishing on Friday nights,
Nordbear my neighbor,  and I,
Nothing like sitting on a two thousand year old pier,
Built by King Herod, to please Augustus Caesar, the dear,
We were using young shrimps as bait, on our hooks,
(Not the type that you see, in the cooking books),
We would insert the fishing rods in special metal holders,
Those were stuck amongst the huge pier supporting boulders,
Each rod was equipped with a small but very noisy bell,
When a fish was biting it rang like hell,
Nordbear and I then unfolded our fishing chairs, as we sat,
I took out my pipe, lit it, pulled back my hat,
Looking at the Mediterranean Sea, waves rushing in,
One follows another, an ongoing crescendo, one ends – one begins,
Thus, we were sitting from evening, until the next morning,
Until the sun first rays of light, before the sun began its scorching,
Sometimes we end up with a sizeable catch, a nice dinner,
Sometimes we end up with nothing; the fish was the winner,
We never felt we lost or missed anything,  returning home empty handed,
After all, it was cleansing of the mind, the soul expanded,
It was I, the sea, the waves, the wind, and nature – as god intended,
Almost another dimension, a world frozen, universe suspended,
As for the fish that we took home for dinner, fried it, a little breaded,
Well for the fish it was a different story;  for the fish – it has all ended

The Olive Tree

 I am like an old olive tree,
All that was, I was there to see,
Wrinkled, grooved, and scarred,
Over the years, my bark has gotten hard,
Weathering the storms, the sun, the cold,
Yet, still I stand, hardened, toughened, bold,
I can take it all bring it on,
From sunrise, to night, to dawn,
What does not kill me makes me strong,
Nothing to do with right or wrong,
Survival of the fittest, last man standing,
Unforgiving world, not very understanding,
Yet like an old olive tree,
Still productive as can be,
Well planted, my roots deep in the soil,
But don’t expect me to start leaking oil.

My Thermometer

I remember, when I was three or four,
My family was very poor,
When I was sick, and had a fever,
Almost a client for the shroud weaver,
My mother (May she rest in peace), Amen,
Will check my temperature, now and again,
She would take out that thermometer, old it was,
And in my mouth, between my jaws,
At night it was stuck in the other end,
When I asked, she always said,
“There are two, one for each end”
Yet until this day, I am suspecting
(Considering that, I did do my investigating)
I have never seen two thermometers, side by side,
(Believe me I surly tried),
Those were the good old days,
These were the good old ways,
Next time when you Kvetch and complain,
Consider my missing thermometer, and think again.