Comedy and Tragedy or is it Tragedy and Comedy

Into each life there is comedy and tragedy and they mingle,

The thought process tries to separate them but they intermingle,

Tangled are the webs of life, and sometimes they make little sense,

We try to organize it into categorizes and put up roadblocks and some types of fence.

But it all is joined and complex with shades of gray,

We are a product of hormones and circumstances that choice our way.

Just when you thought you had it down pat and life runs by the book,

That is when there is a tumble, like the guy on the stage and out comes the hook.

I sometimes wonder if animals feel the joys and the depressions of life’s cycles,

The warmth of love and the feel of rejection like icicles.

But humans are deep in thought and drama is part of life,

There is ups and downs and there is wins and days of strife.

Face each day with the face of the winner,

You know you can for you are no beginner.

And at the end of the day lay your head down with a prayer,

That you have done your best and that you gave life a care.

A love poem.

It was a night alone, for my girlfriend and I fought on the phone,

She had a bug up her behind and I did not like her voice tone.

She accused me of a wandering eye and that maybe I was the wrong guy,

I hung up on her with a snap of my wrist, another relationship gone bye bye.

So I took a shower to wash off the powder of rejection and loneliness,

I am really a good guy and treat my women well, how did I fail the test?

In the shower I sang the rejection songs at the top of my voice,

I sang loud and my noise became ragged and coarse.

Then I toweled off and of course went out to the bar to score,

But who was there with a bunch of guys around her, I could have fallen to the floor.

She looked so fine, she was mine and I felt a decree of regret,

And then my eyes saw her eyes looking and it is just like… when we first met.

She came over and we did not talk, we said not one thing to each other,

We walked out of the bar hand in hand, our hearts aflutter.

That was ten years ago and from that night we have a product of love,

Our child is ten years old now, a gift meant to be, from heaven above.

Getting old

Where once there was the smooth baby face, there now were chiseled lines,

Connected in a pattern, like the roads on a map, they were deep and some relined.

The brow was the worse for the hair had receded upwards and there was that bald spot,

Where once there was a lot of hair, a mop, now there was skin showed a lot.


The body stooped slightly and the gait of the walk was a little on the slow side,

The age of the man was great, many years had he, his body evidence of the hard ride.

Wrinkles and scars were on his body and the height was smaller than before,

His hands had that alligator look, lines aplenty and there was inside a feeling of the raw.


Accolades of the battles of life hung on the wall but dust and spider webs hung on them with age,

This was a man who had lived life fully, a man who in his life turned many a page.

From his loins he had spawn life to continue the cycle of his kind,

Proud of his children and the children they had he saw that life goes around.


His wife had spent the best part of her life watching over him and stood with him through thick and thin,

They had a life of Riley, some good and some not so good, but with little drama and sin.

A life of living well and now in a different stage,

Not wanting drama, just gentle now, that was the words of the sage.


And the desire to make things right, that was foremost on his mind,

But realistically he realized that life will go on, a reflection of his kind.

The Secret Within.

Do we carry a secret that needs to be uncovered?

Or maybe, just maybe keep it under wraps, the lover muttered.

The secret desire for a romance with another,

The secret that that person was not your real mother.


All families have them, the quiet pauses in the conversation,

The fact that something is amiss, maybe some long forgotten revelation.

We keep it quiet and pray at night that it lies in deep and there is fright,

For if it came out what the percussions would be in the glare of the light.


The drama unfolds and the days take the toll,

The secret within, the breathe of the mole.


Ode to the Golfer.

There are so many different shades of green,

The variances of shades that hide unseen,

The iguana uses the technique and goes in the forest from tree to tree

Eating bugs like the invisible intruder in the dense wood that we see.


A green macaw sounds off in the lush vegetation,

Marking off his territory without a moment of hesitation,

The green boa slithers up the tree and reaches for the sky,

Azure blue with streaks of clouds flying by.


But there is no green man, no Irish imp sitting on a stump,

No man who can grant wishes for you, sitting on his rump,

No this is made up and therefore an imagination run rampant,

A man who can grant wishes for you would make you triumphant.


You will have to rely on your own work and wit,

For it to make the green will take skill and luck and a strong hit.

Par on brother man with his hideous pants and teed ball,

The green will come when you make that fore call.


And that hole in one, a feat few can state they have gotten,

A shot that remains in the record books and cannot be forgotten,

A shot for the ages, a shot of great measure.

Man of the green with the irons of pleasure.

May you have the game roll of seven.

An eagle apiece for nine legs of heaven.

Coincidences at Blogging

Sometimes there is a coincidence waiting to happen,

It is like that melody in your brain that makes your fingers tapping,

But it is hidden and yet in plain view, others see it but not me,

The connections in life are all around us in many complex patterns,

Connecting them is like playing a game of Shutes and Ladders.

One day I blogged about a student who passed away in an auto accident so long ago,

His sister commented back and we shared a moment of a boy lost, his life lost a horrible blow.

I have been read by the book girl on Pawn Stars, she gave me a read,

I have touched a few lives and have in some planted a growing seed.

Today I got blogged by a man out west who came to LEGOLAND in Florida, he was attracted by my sound.

He saw me as a ride operator at the Grand Carousel and singing as the ride went around.

So the connection was made when he blogged me when he got home,

Made my day and so another connection, a stab in the dark, was sown.

If you ask me why I blog and write like a man obsessed,

I would answer because it makes me happy, like an A on a test.

So of it is fluff, I grant you that fact,

And some is stuff I need to get off my back.

But I leave the computer with a smile on my face,

A man blogging away making my fingers snap at a fast pace.

Hope you enjoy and this brings smiles around the earth,

It makes me happy and gives my spirits a berth.

The bad student no one wants

Not That Student

They always gave me the students who did not care,

The ones who came to school but had grades below fair.

Usually they hated school and came to socialize and lunch,

They hung around together in a cluster, a rotten banana bunch.

They always seemed to be plotting and conning the world,

They thought the orbit of the school should around them swirl.

There was one who seemed to stand out far from the rest,

He rarely was prepared and had failed even the simplest test

But if you looked in his notebook you would soon discover.

There were pictures of people, cartoons and even a music cover.

The kid who all teachers ignored and wanted to avoid,

The kid they predicted would be broke and unemployed.

He had a hidden ability, a gem of great talent and scope,

If not discovered this would be wasted on a man with no hope.

So I challenged him and took on his looks of dislike and hate,

He wanted me to leave him alone and leave him to his fate.

Finally he did the pictures I requested with a flourish,

The students praised him, it was like his ego got nourished.

We created a comic book of vegetables versus fruits,

It became a big hit and now he was eager to produce.

He became the star of the school, everyone said is name,

He turned around got a job, married and accepted his fame.

I lost contact with him long ago, but I wish him the best,

Of all the students I had, he was a step above the rest.

The Day after Valentine’s Day

It is the day after Valentine’s Day and the gloves are off,

Time to get back to the love and hate relationships of life, matel tov.

Why Do People Have to Harp?

Why do people yell, scream and carp?

It is bad enough when you are right but then you continue to gloat,

You harp on and on and force the fact you are right down my throat.

It does not matter what the subject is or whether it matters or not,

I just resent it like hell when you constantly act like the big shot.

You won the battle now rub my nose in it till it is raw and bloody,

It is a clear cut victory for you and now I am battered and muddy.

I need a break to come back to a semblance of ego,

I need a win of some sorts, a moment to say BINGO.

So the next time we fight for whatever the cause or the fact,

Give me a chance to win, make this a kind of conciliatory act.

Remember I need a win for the Gipper in me,

Something I can put under my Christmas tree.

Okay I will admit you win in ninety percent of the cases that is true,

But let me win once in a while and remember that it is because I love you.

Going Blank

Ever go blank and cannot remember the simple things,

Like a name or where you met someone from a while ago,

And you stretch to remember the item, but it just does not come to mind,

And then when you are not thinking about it, there it pops in like something fine.

Remember the taste of that sweet nectar of wine,

That drink you had with a twist of lemon or lime,

The smell of that rose from so long ago and that time of your life,

The strain on the brain and that terrible time when you had that strife.

The feel of that fabric against your skin and it was so fine,

The shake of that hand that caused the contract to bind,

The sight of a loved one in pain, the outrage you felt,

The relief you had once passed and the sigh that made you melt.

The senses are what makes our lives enhanced,

The stuff that love survives on the real concept of romance.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Is it fair that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth?

Is it fair that I have grown up a favorite son of the south?

Is it fair, that I was given the looks of an Adonis from the heavens above?

Is it fair, that the girls follow me everywhere and pledge me their love?

Is it fair that my intelligence and IQ is so grand and high?

Is it fair that I always get hundreds and the kudos fly?

Is it fair that I won the lottery and I am as rich as Hades?

Is it fair that I have a fast car, a great house and a bevy of ladies?

Now, I know at this point you want me to croak like a frog on a log,

But being a liar is my best suit and so ends this imaginary blog.