On a bright early morning in Springtime each year,I will get out my clubs and examine my gear,’Do my grips need replacing? Is everything set?Is there anything helpful that I need to get?So, of course, this is ritual—what’s wrong with that?I would bet you don’t start each year just standing
No matter what you did, or didn’t do, on New Year’s Eve,It’s time to contemplate the influence you‘re bound to weave.Oh, yes you will, unconsciously, sans intent or design;And it may be most anything—there is no Bottom Line.Your children are a good example—influence is seen;In fact, they are the living
If I am going to die, it will be by my hand,Not someone else’s. I just hope they understand.You know we’re trapped, we are above the burning floor,You say it was a plane—a big one, Oh, the gore—If we just stand here, we will burn to death, or dieFrom sure
It seems the slightest interruption of routineBrings instant momentary panic on the scene,That momentary jolt will normally not last,But you will feel confused before it will have passed.That we are set in our routines, it’s no surprise;It very much resembles being robotized.But you will argue that it’s not like that
While you may not accept this, still I say it’s true;The things you like to use identify with you.You can’t call it intelligence—just sensory,And if you stop to think about it, you’ll agree.So shoes, or slacks, or blouse, or shirt, or coat, or hat,You feel good ‘cause they feel good
By thunder, if’n yew take to glancin’Yew jes might find me up to dancin’—Cuz visitin’ with a friendly neighborIs whut Ah call life’s bestus labor,‘N Ah cain’t wait tuh see it happin’,‘N thet ain’t jes mah jaws a-flappin’!! New neighbors should be askin’ ‘bout ya,But keep ‘em askin’, they could
I’d like to talk about this Murphy;s Law,That anything that can go wrong, it will.Why must it be something that rubs you raw?Why must it be something that irks you still? We joke about it all the time, it seems,But are we really joking? Think of it.We often want to
You know the routine, so get with it, right now.I don’t want to hear that you do not know how.Okay, now I get it—that gives me a kick—You know with this group you are not the top pick.Where you’ve been before, you were always top dog,And now you’re afraid you
This year is nearly done, will soon be history,We look back on it now, discern what came to be,Recall what we thought then, if and when that changed;But see, in hindsight now, how far emotions ranged. We gauge each story again, and stagger its import;No matter how or why, your
A Christmas Wish is not something to laugh about,But on that wish make sure there isn’t any doubt.It must be just as strong as any wish you’ve made—With all your mustered fervency—to make the grade.Each wish or prayer you make is graded in its worth,In fact, it has been that
The fact I am immobile doesn’t mean I’m not alive;My reputation is I cause good feelings to revive.In fact, the very sight of me is aimed to give you lift,And, in itself, that should be looked on as a valued gift.That’s why I value what you think of me, and
I’m always asked “How are you?”, to which I will say:“Better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow.”To me, that isn’t being “smart” in any way,No vanity intent, or “play on words” to borrow. Of course, I could say “Fine!”, which you expect to hear,But does that tell you anything
You have heard this before, but I’ll say it with force,For the sake of humanity, bring back the horse.There are dozens of reasons, so little suspense,For the logic behind it makes simply good sense. The main thing, of course, it compels you to careFor a creature beside just yourself, and
You don’t have to read Mary Poppins to citeThe pleasure you get just from flying a kite.Of course, you would hope for a rather stiff breezeTo have it get airborne in a semblance of ease.You also found out your kite needed a tail,Without it, your kite would do nothing but
The tree is busy, playing with a breeze;It likes to play when it is done with ease.It bustles, rustles, whispers, waves, and sways,Quite happy doing this in many ways.Of course, in stronger winds it has to fight,Concerned about its safety and its plight.For it knows all too well it cannot
I do not disapprove of having faith, as all you know;But there must be a limit to how far your faith can go.Your faith must not be super ceded by your common sense;For God gave you Free Agency, and that holds precedence.Your dictate “God will save me” may not be
It is as busy as a bee because it is a bee;So why—oh, why—should it have anything to do with me?I certainly am not a flower, of most any sort,And I don’t think I smell like one which it would care to court.But let me try to sit outside, like
Our Labor Day’s not here yet, but…I have a feeling in my gutThat Christmas sales will then begin,Your dedicated greenbacks win.So Fall will fall, the trees unclad;With Halloween a passing fad.Thanksgiving comes, traditions-stored,Observed with what you can afford.Black Friday is not black—insteadYou are already in the red.I struggle with all
Since you are new here, thought I’d call to check you out—To see how you are doing. You are just aboutTo witness and enjoy what they call Halloween,And let me say it’s not like anything you’ve seenBefore. Too bad we had to have those changes madeBefore we came here. But,
Our science declares that we can surely pinThe dust we see at home is but dead skin.The trouble I perceive, what’s parlayed most,Is this: there’s no such creature as a ghost.But we’ve had haunted houses for all time,Most having creaky staircases to climb,Sans light, of course, unless it’s floating some,With
