Today on my daily long walk of hours,
I encountered a yard covered with flowers,
The flowers looked familiar of days past,
Of memories that in my mind will always last,
It was the Portulaca, my father used to grow,
On our front yard so many years ago,
Every spring he would plant a new bunch,
No scent but carrying a colorful punch,
You could see the beautiful colors from afar,
Even from up the street driving your car,
It is the little things – that we remember,
The little things that make a heart tender,

Books and Music

What kind of books do you like to read?
He whispered in her ear taking the lead,
Oh said she with a smile big and wide,
I like to read green books she said with pride,
Sometimes I also like pink books in spring,
No particular reason it is just my thing,
And music he asked what you like especially?
Mahler? Beethoven? Mozart? Stravinsky?
Oh said she with a smile curly in shape,
I love listening to music on a tape,
Thus she was chosen miss Tennessee,
Chosen for the all world to see

Europe on A Dollar A Day

I remember the days you could see,
Europe on a dollar a day sea to sea,
Then it went up to five dollars per day,
You could visit London and the Russian ballet,
Then came Europe on ten dollars then fifteen,
You could see Paris and have your morning caffeine,
Then the currencies were replaced by the Euro,
So everyone was broke even before the get go,
Today if you go to Europe, it is no less than a hundred,
This is even before – you had the tax added,
It is cheaper today to travel to Latin America,
Peru, Argentina, Bolivia or Costa Rica,

The Wonders of Beer

I have a very distinct taste for beer,
Good beer to my heart I hold very dear,
There are amber beers and dark and stout,
Yellowish and bitter or gentle sweet shroud,
There are imported, domestic some are local,
Some will argue out loud and will turn vocal,
I share my choice with the type of food I eat,
Matching food with the right beer is a treat,
The temperature has to be precise and correct,
Mismatched food and beer and your meal wrecked,
Yet one thing keeps me puzzled and wonderin’,
I drink black Guinness and it comes out white clean,

A New Diet

 Today I was thinking of a new diet,
For now, I decided to just keep quiet,
I do not want to let everyone know,
I keep it a secret this is my show,
However, you I will let know my secret,
You I can trust my reader is no threat,
My secret diet goes well with your coffee,
It’s an Oreo Cookie that taste like anchovy,

Chronicles of a Day in June

There was a family of racoons under the deck,
A mother and three little ones with a grey neck,
All were partying under my son’s deck in the yard,
Obviously staying in Canada, they had no green card,
Earlier I had a meeting of the electric storage alliance,
Still trying to save the world with logic and science,
We discussed raising the water and geothermal heat,
Make water going up instead of down the street,
We sat outside at the meeting under the scorching sun,
I wore no hat my shaved head is now well done,

The Making of a Writer

Impulsively neurotic, obsessively compulsive,
A poet, a writer, a wordsmith, am I being defensive?
It seems one does not go without the other,
Show me an un-neurotic poet I will show you a faker,
One must be a pledged paranoid, a full time zombie,
Little on the positive and very much on the anti,
He must see every little detail with a sharp eye,
The truth must be dealt with you must not deny,
Every minute accounted for every image burned-in,
Where is the tragic ending where does it all begin?
If you cannot commit to being completely nuts,
You are certainly not a writer you are just a putz,

See Alice

Jefferson Airplane sent me to Alice,
In white rabbit on a pill like digitalis,
She was ten feet tall on a mushroom cloud,
While the drums were beating very loud,
So they sent me to ask Alice she’ll know,
About the pills and the caterpillar and the low,
And today if one has erectile dysfunction,
They send you “See-Alice” again take action,
Who is the Alice that gets everyone excited?
“See Alice” I guess she makes everyone delighted,


I love Camembert, Asiago, Gruyere and Brie,
It appears I love everything that will kill me,
I love a good draught beer and a glass of wine,
A good Cuban Cigar or Tobacco pipe after I dine,
I have never said NO! To a good foie-Gras,
I am also partial to a bottle of Stella Artois,
Sometimes just for making things complicated,
I do it all at once, because humility is overrated,
So please excuse me now as I go to light my Cuban,
I guess by now – you all know I am not a vegan,

Our Future Features

Nowadays when the heroes are made of steel,
When one is hungry, it is hunger for a meal,
I look back at the times, not long ago really,
Things were measured different, more ideally,
A hero was a person of thoughts, so adorned,
Today an intellectual is ridiculed and scorned,
We admire the ruffians the thoughtless brut,
Shooting people on screen is considered cute,
Books are rare commodity to be avoided for sure,
We research penis enlargement not cancer cure,
I can see the human race two centuries from now,
No brains, but with a penis the size of a plough,


Today was a beautiful day the best of the year,
The type of day you call your friends to share,
It was so perfect in every possible way,
Whether you were in the city or Georgian Bay,
The wind was light more of a pleasant breeze,
If you looked very hard, you could see overseas,
So I did and I saw the Eiffel Tower and London Bridge,
I saw the Danube and the Alps mountain ridge,
I saw the Wailing Wall and Dome of the Rock,
I also saw Turkey’s Erdogan and he is a real Schnook,


I drove by the church saw a wedding party,
Weddings, a conspiracy blend made by Moriarty,
The bride all in white big smile on her face,
A sure sign of after wedding day party case,
The groom still in shock knows it is the end,
Realising by now from here on it’s all descend,
But think of the economic outcome of such deal,
So many lawyers can hear the ringing of the till,
For the sake of economic growth, get married,
One way or another we will all eventually be buried,


I was so tired I was running on auxiliary powers,
On Friday evening I conked out for twelve hours,
It seems 24 hours per day are just not enough,
Run start-ups build a business it is very tough,
At the end of the week, you are just exhausted,
You are tired, fatigued, drained and toasted,
Well, I guess this weekend I shall visit my kids,
Maybe golf or fishing, feed the birds with seeds,
I need to relax just hang out there have a beer,
This is what is like to have an entrepreneur’s career,


Consider the pen, a simple writing tool,
No hi-tech, can be used by any fool,
Yet put it in the hand of an artist,
The pen has just become the smartest,
Put it in the hand of a writer,
This pen has become even brighter,
Let a scientist hold on to it, a mathematician,
The pen is now turned magician,
Over the years styles change and traditions,
We go from fountain to ballpoint, transition,
Only me since the days of Gretel and Hansel
Am loyal to my old yellow lead pencil,


An umbrella is a funny creature,
It has this unique special feature,
It gets lost at a ratio of one to one,
Nothing you can do – or make it undone,
This is why I have one in every city,
All but one town, Mecca, and that is a pity,
When it rains cats and dogs what to use?
What configuration of umbrella do I choose?
I was told to save a dollar for a rainy day,
I did, and got wet to my bones I say,
I like to walk in the rain, at least I try,
No umbrella this way no one can see me cry,


I am a GM of a plant producing ethanol,
It is a C and an H, in short ethyl alcohol,
We use waste materials to make that mix,
We do all that to get cars their gasoline fix,
Most manufacturers use corn and grain,
Not us, we use expired beer and old Champagne,
Sometimes red wine sometimes rose’ or white,
Sometimes whiskey or vodka with sprite,
Drivers that use our product always persist,
To fill up their tank with a thick lemon twist,


Last week in Oklahoma City little George,
Oklahoma, that place called Tornado Gorge,
He was lying on his bed looking at the sky,
Looking at the stars and wondering why,
Wondering how come and for what reason,
First of June was called Tornado season,
Lying on his bed, he thought it was a goof,
If he can see the stars, where is the roof?

The Growing Tribe

As of late, I have been looking at pictures,
Not in museums nor in the Holy Scriptures,
Pictures of my children in their first year,
With chubby cheeks and diaper on their rear,
All were born big, long, and completely bald,
Their hair started growing at 3 months old,
The joke was they were born so tall and big,
They drove home from hospital with no special rig,
Now I look at the boys as they are in their thirties,
Married and most already have their own kids,
I see the tribe growing four little ones so far,
Three little princesses and the one Czar,