As danger raps upon the door
To warn me of times settling score
I face the fact that fate won’t wait
Until a more convenient date.
I chuckle now and make a joke
Why must I go, I don’t feel broke ?
A bit of pain just here and there
I won’t complain, I grin and bear.
But time and I have got a date
I know the rules we can’t be late,
To come the day I’ll close my eyes
And it will be one big surprise !
The drip, drip, drip upon my wall
Resembling a small waterfall
I hear the sound I query why
Where is the source of its supply ?
Icicles cling by my front door
Perhaps it’s that and nothing more.
How marvelous that God has thought
To leave remains of what He’s wrought,
This fragile ice will help recall
The beauty of His last snowfall !
The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year 1918, that was the original Armistice Day that morphed into Veteran’s Day in 1954. My only sibling was born at that precise moment in 1939. My dad referred to her as his “American Flag” ! She weighed in at 8 lbs. 11 oz. and became the epitome of patriotism as she grew. She sure could write ! Recently, necessity demanded that I winnow my mementoes, the result being the discovery of my original DATELINE articles self-published for the patrons of HOBOKEN HOUSE, I will be sharing, without editing, these 30 year old articles and hope you may find the humor is still applicable ! Good luck with that, right ? For those of you who thirst for other avenues of interest, may I suggest that you read “Thieves of Baghdad” by my son, Colonel Matthew Bogdanos, U.S.M.C., retired, an exciting account of the search for ancient relics. Do you remember that old commercial, “Try it, you’ll like it !”, perhaps ? Sincerely, Claire B.
I walked about in my garden today
Speaking with plants in my casual way
Trimming the leaves and hand picking the weeds
Cutting dried pods and collecting the seeds.
I tried to converse with positive means
Praising their growth and the length of the beans.
I respect nature, I’m careful with words
Fondly addressing the vocal wild birds,
I make sure they get appropriate treats
Would I do less for broccoli and beets ?
I do have a secret I must confess
I think may add to my gardens success.
Leftover coffee with all of the grind
Mix with water in a pail of some kind
And ladled with love to sprinkle the rest
Has helped me to make my garden the best.
I feel so light I want to fly
On eagle wings into the sky
To some deep woodland far away
Where unseen creatures live and play.
To breathe the air our fathers knew
When times were kind and purpose true
There seek some spot with peace content
To ponder where our ethics went.
My arms will fail me if I try
The problem is that I don’t fly !
One little bird sang out to me
Seems like he’d simply lost his way
His song held promises we’d be
Old friends who met that special day.
I hoped that he would come to know
I’d thought of him as Gods sweet sign
That heaven had sent down to show
How everything would turn out fine.
I miss dear bird now I am grown
It feels like it was yesterday
I’m sure because my cares have flown
And carried all my fears away !
All of my life I have been told
There is no cure for growing old
It’s just the sum of all we’ve known
Of words we’ve said and deeds we’ve sown.
Tis sad to think we leave this race
About the time we find our pace
Without some help we can’t be sure
And so my dear seems there’s no cure
Except wherein we bid goodbye
When we’ve been told ’tis time to die.
Wild elephants just trudge the way
To where their tusks and bones do lay
Since we are sage and civilized
Our resting place is canonized.
My sense of humor is so typically Gallic,
Simple sarcasm gently blended with Teutonic
Arrogance, however it appears to work well,
Or have I been deluding myself once again?
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Claire V. Bogdanos 