I Can't Believe It . . .

I Can't Believe It . . . I Don't Want
to Believe It . . .  No Way !

I tie the lace shoestrings on my two, shiny-black
New Balance shoes every day. And then untie
them again at night. So far, that's nothing out-of-
the-ordinary.

Then, quite curious - I started to do the math.

Starting with the question:
          How many seconds (minutes, hours, days,
          weeks) does that procedure mount up to 
          over the course of an entire year?

So here goes !

    1. In one day, the simple action of tying up
        two shoes consumes 20 seconds.
    2. That means that in one full year (7,300
        seconds in a day)  X's  (365 days in a
        normal year)  it would total to
        122 hours a year.
    3. That calculates to 1,708 more hours of
         tying shoes . . .
                  should I live to 90 !

       So glad I'm not a millipede.

        (Just perhaps, I should wear slip now?)

To Act or Not to Act . . .

To Act or Not to Act . . .

          Away with
               laziness.

                     Exercise.

          Away with
               demons.

                     Exorcise.

Amazing

Amazing
                             (Haiku, 17 syllables)

The North Korean's
very first 5th nuclear test ! ! !
Practice makes  p r e f e c t !

Only Some Are Graceful

           
            Here is a little ditty that has the 
            syllable pattern of    2   4   6   8   2

                It is fun to pick a letter of the 
                alphabet and then choose words
                that fit the pattern.




         ONLY SOME ARE GRACEFUL

                            Gismos
                                Guantanamoes
                          Gristle-laden gizzards
                 Graceful leaping gazelles abound
                                      Gadgets

Always Hope

Much of my life I have been a trouble-maker . . .
even now. Always seeking to "fix things" in  a
world seen as being filled with greed, hatred,
and suffering. It is easy for me to allow external
bitterness and cynicism to wash over me . . . and
I am the one who suffers. I search an anchor to
help my heart and soul be a place of peace and
integrity.

Always, with hope that I can possess compassion
and allow my suffering and anger to melt away.

My Friend the Woodpecker

I told the woodpecker that
     I was in love with you.
I told the woodpecker that
     I was in love with you.

And then
     my woodpecker
            told me
                  what to do.

She said . . .

     Ooo, eee, ooo, ah ah
             pick puck,
            ick a pucka
             puck puck.

     Ooo, eee, ooo, ah ah
           picka pucka
          pooka pooka
             peck peck.

My 75th Birthday Was Yesterday!

        (May be sung to the tune of "76 Trombones")

Two hundred and six
old bones led
the big parade.

With a couple of
patellar knee caps
out in front.

With a hundred and one
wispy-white hairs, still
blowin' in the wind,

who says that
poetry writing
is done !?

So, bring on the pens,
pencils, paper and the
computer pads -
and be sure to
have them
close at hand.

For, here comes another
poem - just
     right-out-of
           the-blue

with words
      heard louder
            than
                 ever before!