Clarissa Dalloway Buying Flowers

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself . . . For there she was.” — Woolf, Virginia. (1925). Mrs. Dalloway.


Before parties, Mrs. Dalloway would set off for Covent Garden where she might buy flowers,

picking out  tasteful selections of peonies, tea roses, and lilies herself from among  market stalls,

At Harrod’s, she shopped for choice cuts of meat and fine wines the Bloomsbury set might devour.

As guests like John Maynard Keyes and E.M. Forster in their diaries no doubt touchingly recalled.

For as she said, there she was, musing among the vegetables,  a London dowager of an uncertain age

reflecting in a stream of conscious thought ever depressive notions of Post-Great War English rage.

Titan Tourists

If an atmosphere defines a moon, Saturn’s Titan is much like Planet Earth,

And although no one will most likely land there without lots of protective gear

a trip to the largest of Saturn’s 82 moons might well prove its worth

since as starlets might note a year orbiting Titan knocks off many a year

while a space hotel orbiting Titan’s side always turned to its giant neighbor

might be a once-in-a-lifetime travel jaunt that Space-Ex tourists would savor,

for it would feature a spectacular view of Saturn’s rocky, ice-encrusted rings,

so if Elon Musk’ makes it past Mars, he might to Titan the star-struck bring.

The Moon Shadow Revisited


The moon’s shadow comes and goes, waxes and wanes, and ebbs and flows,

Thus, if I ever lose my hands, my work, those I love, or else my place of birth.

I pray that I might see God’s master plan as my missteps make me who I am.

So in my Job-like trials l might have grace to say, “Bring it on, oh, Adonai,”

for Earth is not always guaranteed to be a Paradise or a place of mirth,

but a pilgrim’s progress where stretching our wings we prove their worth

Thus, we daily reinvent the self whether Cat Stevens or a.k.a. Yusef Islam,

for who can second guess what hardships can make our dross dreams grand.

An Inclusion and SeclusionTale

Taking the heat for not wearing a face mask, for not saving time in a bottle,

for problems transmitting Zoom to teens, using the virtual classroom model,

for sinking into the depths of a quarantine-induced, stay-at-home-lethargy,

for longing for once upon a time (three months ago) the way it use to be,

for not seeing beyond the treeline or adapting to things passing strange–

more than a few souls find it difficult to endure the psychological strain

as they find it hard to swallow an increasingly foul-tasting porridge

while stuck inside an isolated, sequestered, fractured-fairy tale cottage.

Thus, this sordid tale might end with either tears or heart-felt laughter,

so all God’s children will wake up to a tale of “happily ever after”!



Translation for the poem on the left-side of the page:


The balls are on the green,

the cure for all ills is playing ball,

so even behind the eight-ball,

stay on target, in the running,

to be a king with diamonds sparkling,

perky like fresh-brewed coffee,

dressed to the nines, in all weather,

wearing top hats and tails, or

the highest of very-high heels,

sipping martinis (or is it wine).

So swallow the right pills,

staying right-on target,

walking through towns

in the rainy weather.



A Social-Distancing Fantasy

Luxuriating in

a blanket of cozy down,

upon waking up.


Showering–spirts of

bracing water tingle

while warm water sooths.


Jane Austen now leans

very close, her tales repeating

charming adventures.


Refreshed by Jane’s

Ssalacious gossip, plunging

into a sparkling warm pool.


Toweling dry and

swaddled in cotton sheets,

sipping mint tea,


as I go to bed,

I fall asleep while reading

a bodice-ripper novel.





“Waiting for Godot”

Season of waiting,

patiently serving my time

Waiting for reason.


Still meditating,

now plotting personal schemes

and most public rhymes.


Waiting for Godot”!

 going with the ebb and flow,

but not in the know.


Meanwhile, waking up

to an eternal “Groundhog’s

Day” each summer morn.




Open umbrellas–

Solid, plaid, paisley, striped,

for shower and sun.


Expect a downpour,

then grab one going out the door,

and sing in the rain.


But if the sun shines,

Copying Miss Scarlet O’Hara

Sure sounds mighty fine.


A Letter to the G.I. Who Helped Prosecute the Nuremberg Trials

In memory of Walstein Smith (1920-1998), attorney and professor at Baylor University for 41 years


Dear Dad,


Here is a loving letter I am posting for you to share with Mother in the Great Beyond,

detailing some events that will delight you, and others that will make you rather mad.

As for my white-privileged self, I put everything in an annuity before the economy tanked,

for which I must acknowledge your own struggles and my financial advisor to thank.

I’m following a healthy Mediterranean diet, gardening, and taking walks in the sunshine,

although lots of folks are deadly-ill down here, and the economy has really declined.

But since arrivals have piled up at the Pearly Gates, you will note we‘ve been conned:

Churches are closed while store-raiding protesters sacking stores much celebrated.

Freedom of speech is in question for those with whom the P. C. Millennials disagree

while the powerful applaud ravaged cities disbanding the cops and looters on sprees.

Lincoln the Great Emancipator’s statue and reputation are now in gravest danger

while the woke and enlightened would take the white baby Jesus out of the manger.

Never mind that people from around the world have pictured Him like themselves—

our hero, who asks everyone not to hold a grudge and always love all their neighbors.

So flag down the Man Upstairs (or in your case up the street) with a few urgent pleas:

We ask for patience and wisdom to heal our world and nation from a most cruel virus

and for the ability to respectfully debate and coming up with solutions as we disagree.


Your Loving Daughter

Doing the COVID-19 Bop—Making this Menace Stop


Listen to the swarm as we explore solutions to the world-wide plague,

That dastardly virus COVID-19, for which solutions are admittedly vague.

Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization do lag

on presenting-fixes to the pandemic’s problems while the economy drags–

no masks, then you must wear masks, the so-called authorities do proclaim.

Meanwhile, many disregard this sage advice—sans masks—with distain.


Oh, the COVID-plague makes the disaffected P. C. populace very restless,

And spiraling into a Deep Depression, it certainly makes the economy lag.


First, they said let us flatten the curve in a space of a few locked-down weeks.

Then, any uptick in the number of cases meant an extension of this deadline

else an upsurge of deaths rivaling the Bubonic Plague then perilously sweeps.

Moreover, the only sure-fire resolution that would make everything all so fine

was to distance safely those venturing out a mandatory six-feet-apart in line.

Of course, we were to wash our hands in running water, vigorously scrubbing

while belting out “Happy Birthday to You” else the apocalypse was coming.

So what could be the answer to this menace the wise now passionately seek?


Oh, the COVID-plague makes the disaffected P.C. populace very restless,

And spiraling into a Deep Depression it certainly makes the economy lag.


Follow the lead of public health medics those who fought the 1918 Spanish Flu:

Quarantine those most likely to die from the virus is what everyone should do—

The elderly, the morbidly obese, those with hyper-tension, and Diabetes Two.

In the meantime, improve everyone’s odds of making COVID-19 less severe—

Getting lots of Vitamin D, so they catch a less severe case within this year.

That is a common-sense solution of what every one of us should now do.


Oh, the COVID-plague makes the disaffected P C. populace very restless,

And spiraling into a Deep Depression, it certainly makes the economy lag.



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