A Writer’s Block

Yesterday afternoon I had a writer’s block,
It was not too big the usual standard stock,
About forty four-by-thirty two, give or take,
Made of cement, shaped and in the oven to bake,
I do get them occasionally these writer’s blocks,
When news is boring, and nothing in the mailbox,
Then something always turns up on TV or the radio,
Writer’s block is not a challenge to a real pro,


The Food Chain

The poet Gabriel García Márquez once said (it is sad),
A man grows old when he starts to looks like his dad,
A well made observation and it makes a lot of sense,
Life always goes forward never back to past tense,
I started to look like my father when I was only ten,
I was no longer a baby but not yet a full grown man,
At sixteen, it turned I looked more like my granddad,
Not when he was an adult, but a twelve-year-old lad,
Then a nice surprise as I was turning a man at eighteen,
Allowed to have a drink of alcohol and morning caffeine,
I discovered that I began to look like someone else again,
More of a carnivore that is on top of the food chain,

Tea Anyone

He was young and happy frolicking all day,
Not by design but it was his nature, his way,
On his tours from London to China to Calabria,
You know that area very well known in Italia,
He was known as Charlie the kid in the hood,
Before he got his father’s title and knighthood,
As time went on, he was married to Elisabeth,
That is when he started wishing himself dead,
Charlie stopped frolicking being happy and gay,
He was now very married to his great dismay,
It may have been a year give or take a day,
That Charlie very fast became Earl the Grey,


Looking out the windows it is plain to see,
Today shall be freezing, cold as ice will be,
A day to heat up the kettle, boil the water,
Get them to over ninety five or even hotter,
Then very slowly add a teaspoon full of coco,
The rich heavenly creamy fruity fluffy Chocó,
On top of that, add thirty-five percent cream,
Then relax, recline, enjoy the scented steam,
Turn on a little Mozart, Schubert, or Satie,
Quietly listen, with Mozart no one feels chatty,

Engine 70414

I grew up listening to train engine 70414,
Was using steam keeping it clean and green,
It was going on ten maybe fifteen miles an hour,
It went slow although it had the raw power,
But those days speed did not count very much,
Quality counted more, 70414 had a soft touch,
Then came the fifties and the old engine retired,
He was still going well but its heart expired,
Nowadays speed counts more than quality, sadly,
So 70414 has gone to retirement and done so gladly,

My Sail Car

I invented a car that works on electricity
It works well no complications sheer simplicity
Of course when it was ready to use oil price sank
It now cost only two thirds to fill up your tank
I think next-I shall put a sail on the car roof
Wait for a huge blast of wind and then –POOF
On my way I shall be with my car with the sail
That roams around on windstorm and gale


We all die when our time comes, each one,
A fish, a flower, a tree, a woman and a man,
This is the way of the world we need the room,
We are all born, grow up then mature and bloom,
Some take longer some just a short while to die,
Some go swiftly some take years to say good-bye,
Some die as prey so that others may live of their flesh,
Others end up as compost to help veggies grow afresh,
Only my shoe just sits in the corner not here nor there,
It is missing its partner, without it there is not a pair,
So, the left shoe just sits waiting for the right in despair,
Again and again we learn, life just is not being fair,