Sandburg Revisited

I tried to be more like Eliot or Frost but you kept pulling me back in.

I tried to rhyme but you blunted all my attempts with your realism.

What’s wrong with roses are red and violets are blue?

It certainly does not have your awesome wonder about it but who does it harm, me or you?

You caught me in your world of harlots and drifters, dock workers and steel workers where there is no place for rhyme.

You have me, I’m yours and like it or not, Mr. Carl Sandburg, you are still very much alive in my time.

A Poetic Agreement for the Ages

Where are we going? How are we getting there? Who are we and how did all this happen?

These are the questions that Philosophers have been asking for centuries.

I, however, was more concerned about my beer bottle opener. I was sure that if those same learned gentleman were here today they would be asking the same relevant question. How do we open the beer?

Imagine questions about universal truths taking second place to a bottle of beer. But the practical realty of the situation, recognized by all informed gentleman, was that a thirst must be quenched before world issues could be tackled and that required the opener. To any practical mind that truth was elementary. And thus another agreement was reached that transcended the ages.

A Good Tasting Miracle

I took a square section of ground 4 feet by 20 feet and roped it off.

Like lasagna layering I added Chicken manure, potting soil, black cinders, straw chips and grass clippings. Then I prayed that my combination was right.

After thoroughly watering I planted lettuce seedlings.

In fifty days I was picking, adding oil and vinegar and enjoying a hearty green salad.

And you say there’s no God.


Once fire and ash. The molten lava flowing.                                                                                                               Now it sits dormant.                                                                                                                                             Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

Reduced to a tourist site with a link to outer space.                                                                                                    And it sits dormant.                                                                                                                                                    Waiting, Waiting, Waiting

Could the volcano erupt again? Of course if we did something to piss of Pele goddess of volcanoes and fire.

Until then it sits dormant.                                                                                                                                            Waiting, Waiting, Waiting


Hidden Intentions

It’s clear to me with your clenched fist or open hand, that I can see.

But what do I call you, friend or foe?

When you come with a smile,

how do I know?

Who Am I?

I’ve seen Kamehameha rule the islands.                                                                                                                     I’ve watched the whalers come and go.

I smelled the sugar cane and wept when it left.

I partied with Marines as they prepared to do battle with the Japanese.                                                                         I mourned as fewer came back than left.

I’ve worked hand and hand with visitors as they scrimped and saved for the vacation of a lifetime.

I nurtured the children, the businesses, the workers as Covid 19 ravaged their ranks.

My name is Hawaii. I have always been here and no matter what happens, I always.



Ode to Nemo

A little guy with a big heart.

Fourteen years and never apart.

A koi, not a tuna nor a trout.

He finally said, the pond, it’s time to get out.

A long life but it could have been more.

But that’s what happens when fish come to shore.

Nemo  2007 to 2021

Sadly missed


The Grill

The wheel, the nail, the compass, the printing press, the internal combustion engine, the telephone, the light bulb and the internet are all great inventions. Unquestionably game changers.

But nothing compares to the Grill.

Why you ask? And you should.

1) It belongs to men.  2) You can cook your steak and onions together on it without offending anyone.  3) There is never any worry about spill, stain or smell.  4)  Drinking beer, while grilling, is a rule carved in stone.

Undoubtedly the others are great inventions.

But, as for me, I’ll take the grill every time.




Beam Me Up Scotty

You too can say, “Take her out Mr. Chekov,” or “I need more power Scotty,” and even “Put me in warp drive Mr. Sulu.”

No, not on the Starship Enterprise, but on Elon Musk’s Crew Dragon and not to distant galaxies but to the International Space Station, for ten days.

Because the difference between men and boys are their toys and space travel is in vogue.

You can boldly go where no Billionaire has gone before for only fifty five million dollars.

(Please hum the theme from Star Trek. That would only be logical.)


Sunsets can have  colors of yellow, gold, orange, pink, red and purple. But sunsets can also disappoint with black, grey and white. One is Magical and the other is just plain Dull.

Life, like a sunset, can also be either Magical or Dull.

Remember that you must always pay attention or you’ll miss the magic of a sunset and the magic of life.

Sadly if you don’t, it will mean seeing the blacks, greys and whites of life instead of the yellows, gold, orange, pinks, reds and purples and that would be Dull.


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