Jay's Poetry

Routine

2011-10-19T09:58:00.000-05:00

Waking up to the sound of coffee
being brewed in the automatic pot...

A delicious aroma permeates the atmosphere...
I luxuriate in knowing I do not have to be anywhere today.

Eventually I get up from my chair (where I have slept) and stumble to the kitchen, Carafe and cup in hand..

I turned on the computer and as I go it tells me I have mail...
Turns out to be mostly spam but there are a couple of conversations
that need completion from the night before.

The dog gets let out and comes right back in (it is starting to be cold outside)
I bring the coffee back to the chair and pick up the lap top.
Must check with my peeps.

another day, jumpstarted.

I love being retired.

2011-01-26T23:17:00.004-06:00

I am a Mason
I look towards perfection

The working tools help me
to improve
to break off the rough edges
to divide my time
to learn how to serve

to grow as a man
and a citizen
and a friend.

I am not perfect,
but I try to keep perfection
as my goal

Masonry guides me there
my working tool - the trowel
spreads brotherly love and affection
between my Brothers and me
We are building together
God's Temple

A shining place for all mankind to see
We are Masons
BUILDERS
that says it all.

Jay Cole Simser

January 26, 2011

Routine

2010-10-18T08:35:00.002-05:00

Another Monday morning
The "boys" are out back checking
to see if the yard is still there.

Peeing in the grass
sniffing around
The big puppy wants to play
the older dog not so much
He is somewhat senile and arthritic
now
sort of like me

15 years for him is 105 you know

A whisper bumps up against my leg
Kitty cat wants me to recognize that she
also is awake.

The older dog comes in he has had enough play.
now he has to check out the house to see if IT is
still there. Have breakfast and take the first of his
naps.

Puppy stays out to play

Yep just another Monday.

Damn

2010-08-19T12:49:00.002-05:00

There is a damn little fly in my house

(worse than a mouse)

He likes to buzz around and land on me

It is driving me nuts.

Not only that but the dog is whining to go out

(twenty five times a day)

That is probably how the damn little fly got in

when I opened the door for my senile dog.

I really shouldn’t complain

He is not the biting kind that harassed me

on past vacations at the lake

I have misquotes for that thank you

(they got me last night and I spent the whole

evening scratching)

But he is annoying

this damn little fly

And besides landing on my skin and walking around

he is too fast for me

Flies away before I can swat him.

Don't worry I will get him

or perhaps he will leave when I let the dog out again

Damn little (annoying) fly.

Spam Poetry

2010-01-05T12:44:00.002-06:00

My Spam folder has taken to writing poetry. This is the first offering.

Congratulations you have won £ 1,000,000,00 pounds sterling form the Uk National Lottery

Visitor Jaycole’s personal 80% off (this from VIAGRA best supplier.

It is the Federal Bureau of Investigation (Final Notice)

Get Cash out of you house….

and

To get ED relief.

Then we have

Notification From Bank of America account

“”Complement of the Seasons”

Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI)?URGENT ATTENTION NEED…

Your MyLife Profile Has Been Enhanced

From: Miss Angela Bamba

Contact my secretary urgent

Order to Australia.

Gullible I may be - but not stupid.

I deleted them all.

Now (October 3, 2011) I find out about Spoetry

Don't You

2009-05-18T14:50:00.002-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Don't you (blank)," fill in the blank with a word or words, and make that the title of your poem. Then, write a poem using that title. Example titles could be "Don't you forget to turn off the lights," "Don't you tell me what to do," and "Don't you laugh." There are many, many, many possibilities with this one.

Don’t you think?
Don’t you dare!
Don’t you want?
Don't you agree?

Don't you believe it!

No, I don’t!

Don’t you come in here!
Don’t you go there!
Don’t you watch that!

Don't you talk back to me!

OK, I won’t

Don’t you tell me not to
Because I will.

Don't you forget it.

Don't you just love it!

Spring

2009-05-12T11:07:00.000-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a spring-related poem. This will probably be easier for people (like myself) who live in the Northern Hemisphere, since spring is now in full swing in most places. When you're dealing with a subject as big as an entire season, it's probably best to focus in on something very specific and use spring as the background. But you do what you gotta do.

How to begin?
Begin with a seed
warm sunshine
rain
slowly awakening
It begins
the world is born anew

Renewal time
Growing time
waiting time
Spring time!

Farewell Poem

2009-04-30T22:39:00.000-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a farewell poem. After all, we are saying farewell to another wonderful National Poetry Month. Say farewell to this month; say farewell to a vacation spot; say farewell to a bad relationship; say farewell to work; say farewell to school; say farewell to saying farewell even. Hopefully, I won't be saying farewell to you; please stay in touch and let me know of your successes as we keep poeming toward the horizon.

I will never say good-bye
only au revoir
or “So Long”

Good-bye is so final
I don’t like it!
For we are friends
and friends, true friends
never part.

We will meet again
and it will be a joyous
occasion.
For we are friends, true friends
and we can never be separated

Good-bye does not resonate
with what we have.
Our friendship is more
like family
more than friends
something much, much more

So I will never say good-bye\
only au revoir
or “So Long”
or maybe “See you soon.”
Good night Sweet Prince –
Farewell!

April 29, 2009

2009-04-29T18:07:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to title your poems "Never (blank)" with you filling in the blank with a word or phrase. Then, write a poem based off your title, which could be "Never look both ways when crossing the street" or "Never blush in public" or "Never ever" or "Never write a poem with the word never in the title." You get the idea, right?

Never ____________

I am supposed to write a poem
and fill in the blank..
But you know I can’t think of a thing
that goes with never.

I could say Never again but there
is always a chance that it will repeat itself.
I could say Never go there but
as soon as I do that is just where I want to go.

My friends tell me Never trust that person
but I always want to see the good and trust
so I get hurt.
That is not fun but I don’t seem to learn.

Some folks say Never say Never
but there are things I will Never do –
Climb a mountain, dance the tango
write a book ( I suppose I could do that)
or win the lottery – (I hear you have to buy a ticket)

So while I have thought about several things I will Never
I guess the main thing is to write a poem.
I think I just did it.
"Quoth the Raven, Nevermore."

Never mind.

Sestina

2009-04-28T16:51:00.003-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a sestina. (Click here to find out the rules for sestinas.) So start figuring out your 6 end words and get writing.
But wait! Today is Tuesday, so you have one other option. You can write a poem about the sestina (your love, hate, frustration with, etc.).
Whether you decide to write a sestina or write about sestinas, remember to have fun. We're almost done!

A -rescue
B - magic
C - predict
D - house
E - computer
F - fathers

Last week I needed a rescue
It was going to take a lot of magic
and it would be hard to predict
if I could get off the roof of the house
I had my pocket computer
but did not have the numbers of my fathers.

Mother was married twice so I have two fathers
surely they would save me with a rescue
and it wouldn’t take any magic
but I could not predict
if they could find the house
after I dropped my computer

No one could predict
if I could even contact the fathers
and it was an enormous house
from which I needed a rescue
perhaps I could use some magic
to recall my fallen computer

I looked down to spot my computer
I was indeed in a predict(iment)
And I needed something besides magic
to get in touch with my mundane fathers
so at least one of them would come to my rescue
and get me off the roof of this damn house

This enormous big crummy house
where I had climbed to the top with my computer
and now we both needed a rescue
How will it end do you want to predict
will they come do you think, the fathers
or will it take some major magic

I began to conjure some minor magic
I inched slowly down to the side of the house
I looked below and saw them – the fathers
one of them held the computer
But no one could predict
If I would be saved and no longer need a rescue

For the-rescue didn’t need any magic
And you could not predict that a fall from the house
would cause the computer to signal the fathers

II

Not to crazy about this prompt but I finally did it. Whatever!
I got it written but will not try a sestina again - never!

April 27, 2009

2009-04-27T16:34:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem of longing. You or someone (or something) else should be pining for someone or something. Maybe a cat is longing to get outside the house. Maybe a teenager is longing to get away from his or her small town. And, of course, there's always the longing poem of love.
*****************************************************

I cannot tell you for what I long
it’s a secret
Having something to desire
is what keeps me going

but if I told you for what I yearn
you might think me silly
or foolish
or worse
you might laugh

So I will keep it close
in my heart
and maybe someday
it will be mine.

April 26, 2009

2009-04-26T11:18:00.000-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem involving miscommunication. It can be miscommunication between two people or misinterpretation of some sort. I will leave it up to you guys to deal with it however you want.

I guess I misunderstood
I thought you wanted to be friends
But your actions have proven otherwise
So, I guess I was wrong.

Friendship works both ways
It is a give and take
but take is all you do
I guess I am through giving

Goodbye.

April 25, 2009

2009-04-25T10:33:00.002-05:00

For today's prompt I want you to pick an event and make that event the title of your poem.

Hello Jay!

The little one made it an event
I was coming for a visit.
She spotted me
all of a sudden
running from the flower bed/garden
yelling my name
Jaaaaaaaaaay.
I was greeted and it was an event!
An event I look forward to repeating
over and over
and the Hi-fives when she got to me
weren’t too bad either!

All too soon the event has passed and
she goes back to watering the flowers.
Not knowing that she is the most beautiful
flower in that garden.

April 24, 2009

2009-04-24T10:26:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a travel-related poem. It can be human travel, the migration of swallows, the trafficking of drugs, etc. Some sort of movement from point A to point B.

Every year it is the same
Planning starts in the dead of winter
Lists are made
The reservation was made last year as we left
You can feel the excitement as we get closer to the day

We migrate to Minnesota in the summer
There is a lake there where our friends gather
Family is there also.

Mother lives for the one week, then two and finally three
weeks amid the pines and birches
on the shores of Leech Lake

You can see the far away look in her eyes
as she contemplates sleeping on the porch
raising up to look out at the lake
listening to the loons.

I collect a lot of books to take. Paperbacks and
there is a visit to the library to take some more out.
The car is prepared. Sometimes we take a friend along with us
but it is always my mom and my sister and me.
(Once we waited until sunrise so my sister’s girlfriend could see the
scenery – she spent the entire trip reading comic books)

We have the route memorized but I still get a Triptic
I need to get some benefit from my AAA membership.

We drive past farms (with white cows that my mother and sister think are sheep)
and a myriad of lakes (but they are not “our lake” )
Through the twin cities – that is the time Mother always starts to mess with the paper
and read it. Thus making me even more nervous as I navigate the always heavy traffic

The closer we get the more excited. Mother starts to sing “We’re on vacation, in the summer time!” She is happiest on the way up to the lake

and at the lake

Then, all to soon it is over and we have to retrace our trip.
This time the scenery is viewed through tears.
Except for me. I am usually ready to get back home.
Gradually we think about the air conditioning we have done without
the comfort of our own beds
and the friends we have left behind.
We “post-mortem” the vacation all the way home
and for weeks afterwards. And yes – the reservations were made
before we left
so we would be able to do it all over again.

It seems like it is always the same
but it isn’t. It is warm and comfortable and cozy
just like an old slipper
We like it that way.

April 23, 2009

2009-04-23T10:47:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem of regret. Get creative with this one, but there should be some form of regret either expressed or hinted at (even if ever so slightly). You do NOT have to use the word "regret" in the poem, though it's fine if you do.

It’s going to be on my mind for a very long time
The fact that what I said hurt you
It was not to make you feel bad
I would not cause you pain
I just didn’t think
So now when you cross my thoughts
A feeling I don’t enjoy
permeates my being
It’s going to be on my mind for a very long time.

Work

2009-04-22T16:27:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a work-related poem. Work doesn't have to be the main feature of the poem, but I want you to "work" it in somehow. And remember: There are different types of work. Of course, there are the activities that gain you fortune and fame (or not), but then, there's also housework, exercise, volunteering, etc. I'm sure you'll "work" it out.

“What do you do?”
Someone always asks me that.
I tell them “Nothing, I am retired.”
(Actually I am just tired)
Then they want to know what I did.
Well I did lots of things; I traveled, I went on vacation
But I understand that what they want is to know how I made my living.

“Well,” I said, “I was a teacher.,
an elementary teacher.”

Immediately I am hear;
“Oh, wow, you are brave.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”

What they don’t know is that I should be thanking them
for sharing their kids with me.
You see I don’t have any of my own.
But over the years I have had hundreds of them

I was a tough teacher, because I wanted my “kids” prepared to do their best
“The Middle School is a snap once you’ve had Simser.” said one boy.
That was a high compliment
(Though he might not have meant it that way.)
That told me I was doing my job, my work.
But it really wasn’t work - It was a joy.
I will always be grateful that I was allowed to be a teacher.
My work.

Haiku

2009-04-21T09:56:00.002-05:00

Here are the two prompts for the day (you only need to choose one, unless you're all about pushing yourself to the limit):
1. Write a haiku. The haiku is not just a form but a genre of poetry. (Click here to read more about the haiku.) People sometimes go into writing a haiku and end up with a senryu or a faux-ku, but it's all good (and all poetry).
2. Write about the haiku. I know there are some poets (in this very group even) who are anti-form. So, I'm giving them the option to write their anti-haiku manifestos. Of course, if you pay attention to this 2nd prompt, it doesn't need to be anti-haiku; your poem could be questioning or even praising the haiku. Or something.

Warm sun on my face
Gentle rain falling slowly today
Daffodils are blooming

Poem of Rebirth

2009-04-20T12:01:00.000-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem of rebirth. There are many different types of rebirth available, including the changing of the seasons, the beginning of the day, religious or spiritual rebirth, a reconfirmation of good in people, re-learning how to love, etc. So think on it a bit, and create a stellar rebirth poem.

If you plant a seed it grows
Life flows

But is it a rebirth or something new
That grew

Renewal is constant – but it’s not rebirth
Even so it proves its worth

A change but not the same thing new
It is different – that’s true

But a rebirth must change me
to sluff off the old and set me free

So now I sit and contemplate
Rebirth – Renewal, which is my fate

I want to be better, I want to do good
To try for the best is what I should

But if I can’t accomplish that
Karma will return me as a cat.

Anger

2009-04-19T10:38:00.000-05:00

Today's prompt is to write an angry poem. That is, a poem about someone or something that gets angry. Could be a person, animal, or even them there angry clouds. As usual, I'm excited to see which unexpected directions y'all take with this prompt.

I seem to need to be punished
or cast to the outer darkness

No Jesus to “save” me from you
my angry “God”

I tried to be better but something
has you upset with me

I guess I deserve it.
I am such a worthless being
that you must yell and scream and swear at me

I am devastated
but there seems to be no way to make amends
I will never be able to love you again

I guess if you were really God
there would be no need to try

Anger begets anger
Whatever I did you have done worse
So now I am angry with you!

Who will save us from each other?

April 18, 2009

2009-04-18T13:28:00.000-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem with an interaction of some sort. The interaction does NOT have to be between people, though it can. For instance, you could write about the interaction between a bee and a flower; or an owl and a field mouse. Or just write about a traffic cop getting into an argument with a speeder. Just as long as there is some sort of interaction going on.

The baton was raised
we waited

First a high note
broke through the silence
joined by others
not a cacophony but
a symphony.
a beautiful rendition
of the composer’s
vision.

one, two, three, four
arms waving around
instruments relate and interact
one with another
they dance, they play
together now
in unity

we watch,
we listen
our spirits soar
from overture to coda
we are enthralled

They play
we listen
they sing to us
in the language of music
and we listen with the language of soul

Wordzzle/A Poem A Day

2009-04-17T14:37:00.006-05:00

No time today so i had to combine Wordzzle and A Poem A day - Phrog will return next week.

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem with the following title: "All I want is (blank)," where you fill in the blank with a word or phrase of your choosing. Some example titles, then, could be: "All I want is to eat fried chicken"; "All I want is world peace"; "All I want is for everyone to tell me I'm beautiful"; or "All I want is a handful of quarters."

All I Want is a Multi-purpose Poem

Two days after income tax day and I need some chicken noodle soup

either that or a hug from everyone in the group

For seventeen days I’ve been writing poetry

sitting around underneath the flowering plum tree

I think I have bats in the belfry for taking this on

The Salamander Sisters to the art festival have gone

They entered in a contest to jump rope in a group

while singing the song loopity loop

They’re sipping some organic tea

and singing to a wench who looks like me

(ugly woman)

She and her lover have joined a book club

they each brought a book and some Dutch Treat grub

She wore diamond earrings

and tigers on pins for bling blings

The cow jumped over the moon was the name of the book

They’ve read the prefix – it is about a paragon of virtue who was a crook.

Now they are finished with dinner and the book

This week's duties I did not shirk.

RED

2009-04-16T13:34:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to pick a color, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem that is inspired by that color.

Red

red hot
passion
red anger
violent passion
red the color of passion

blood red
seeing red
that barn is red

red
love
a red, red rose
gentle
touching my heart
red heart
chocolate covered cherry
cherry red
red the color of love

if it is red it has to be good
better red than dead
little red hen
little red riding hood
the red bicycle
red the color of life

red.

The Street Not Taken

2009-04-15T21:58:00.000-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to take the title of a poem you especially like (by another poet) and change it. Then, with this new altered title, I want you to write a poem. An example would be to take William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow" and change it to "The Red Volkswagon." Or take Frank O'Hara's "Why I Am Not a Painter" and change it to "Why I Am Not a Penguin." You get the idea, right? (Note: Your altered poem does NOT have to follow the same style as the original poet, though you can try if you wish.)

The Street Not Taken

Two streets, which I could travel down
I can’t choose which way to go
On my face there is a frown
I imagine myself a clown
Maybe I’ll just go to a movie show.

What is playing on the movie screan
Is it in the paper the movies to see
Gee, to most of them I’ve already been
I have even see The Color Green
Oh, I can’t go I have only dollars three.

So now I’m back and a street I’ have to choose
That one has stores places to shop galore
What the heck do I have to lose
Perhaps I could go and look for my muse
I just have to go there and open the right door

But the other street is tree lined and green
Peaceful, tranquil, a place of peace
A quiet spot where strife is not seen
A place for resting with plenty of space
I took that street with style and grace

Two Prompt Tuesday

2009-04-14T09:12:00.001-05:00

Today is Tuesday, which means two prompts.
First prompt: Write a love poem.

Second prompt: Write an anti-love poem.
Hypocrites

We love you
But we hate you

That is the message

Homophobic ministers (?)
secretly meeting with “masseurs”(?)
doing drugs.

We love you (yeah right!)
but we hate you

You have a choice (yeah right!)
So choose something else

Chose what we want
not what you are.

We call you damned
and our followers beat and kill you

but that is all right
because - we love you

Yeah, right

My Hobby April 13

2009-04-13T16:26:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem that incorporates a hobby (either yours or someone else's). That's right: Now is the perfect opportunity to write about your comic collection or your scrapbooking activities. And for the purposes of this challenge, I also think activities such as fishing, running, bowling, photography, birding, and gardening count as hobbies.

I am a collector,
Not for me the stamps
or the baseball cards

No, I collect people.
I look around me and I find interesting ones
Ones with big smiles and
beautiful laugh lines
sparkling eyes

The ones with craggy faces
a road map of life between their ears
Ones who show that they are caring
loving, holding folk.

Others who are self-satisfied
righteous egomaniacs
out only for themselves
who put people down don’t
make it into my collection.

I toss them out

but the others,
those I keep and cherish
clean them off and love them
I hold on to them and take them
with me where ever I go.

That is the nice thing about collecting people
The collection never gets too large
you can take it with you where you go
and it is actually
not heavy.

In fact just thinking about my collection of people and friends
brightens up my world and my universe.

A Poem A Day

2009-04-12T08:50:00.002-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "So we decided to (blank)" and fill in the blank. Make that your title and write a poem. Some possibilities include "So we decided to plant a tree" or "So we decided to burn a hole in the sky."

So we decided to see Beauty

The day was dark and drear
Not much fun, I fear

We looked out side and saw the rain
“Oh,” he said, what a pain!”

I was hoping for bright skies and a sun that shines
For warm breezes I do pine.

But look at that so cold and damp
It is no fun my style it does cramp

But Father dear, said my little boy
We are together today – I think that is a joy.

You are right my friend I said to him
You fill me with wonder – up to the brim.

Instead of seeing clouds and dark
let us look for a lark

or a robin
a daffodil
a violet shy

a break in the clouds
a bit of blue sky

A bright little beetle
crawling home –
There see it - under the garden Gnome.

The light we find in each other’s eyes
Mrs. Murphey’s golden apple pies

You see there is a lot out there if we just look
About beauty we could write a book,

The Suit

2009-04-11T22:28:00.001-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about an object (or objects). Though you don't have to confine yourself to straight up description, I do want you to focus on object and/or make it a central piece of your poem. One of the more famous poems of contemporary literature does this wonderfully in William Carlos Williams' "The Red Wheelbarrow."

Hanging in my closet
Is a suit.

I hate to wear it. I much prefer the sport coat
or just a shirt.

The suit is for weddings
and funerals.

I wear it to meetings where I have to look nice.

I really prefer to leave it hanging there
on its own wooden hangar
next to an old sweater.

We put our suits on to match others
I never liked conformity. I like to be different
but the suit is there when I have to fit in.

Even though I will probably never fit in.
So it hangs in the closet

dark
foreboding
uniform of conformity

but then I guess
jeans and a sweatshirt
fit that category also

Maybe I’ll just go naked.

Friday

2009-04-10T10:57:00.002-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about Friday. Do you like Fridays? Despise Fridays? Of course, you can also write about something that happened on a Friday--or write an ode to Fridays. Or, as you know, I'm all for seeing you attack this from an angle I haven't thought of yet.

Friday
Good Friday
My "take"

Not sorrowful
Not a day to mourn

Friday
The day Jesus taught us
How to Love.

"Take care of my Mother"
He said to John
"Father Forgive Them"
"Today you will be with me in Paradise"

He came to show us God's Love
That God IS Love
He did that on a Friday

Blessed Friday
Good Friday
I rejoice
I love
Because He Loved.

April 9, 2009

2009-04-09T10:23:00.003-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you write a poem about a memory. The memory can be good or bad. The memory can be a blend of several memories. I suppose it could even be a memory that you're not sure you remember correctly. Take your time finding a good one (or good ones).

Ma

Sunday night
End of a "family day"
She had cooked all morning for her kids
And their broods.

Family Dinner on Sunday Noon
A Tradition
Good Food
Hell - it was the best.

She knew how to cook
My grandmother.

Now the day is over
everyone has gone to their separate homes
all caught up on everything.

My grandmother,
the purple hair -somewhat disheveled
Fringed gray shawl with red stripes
wrapped around her shoulders
ready for bed
Comes to the living room
settles in her wooden rocker
to watch "What's My Line."

Warm, comforting
family time in front of the tube
resting
relaxing
satisfied.

It never got any better than that!

April 4

2009-04-08T17:19:00.003-05:00

Click on Ned's Picture to read his Diary.

April 4

For today's prompt, I want you to pick an animal; make that animal the title of your poem; then, write a poem. You could be very general with your animal title ("Bees" or "Lion") or specific ("Flipper" or "Lassie"). You could even be very silly with something like "Tony, the Tiger," I guess (that tiger on the cereal box).

Ned
Ned stood in the door of his Semi-trailer
An elephant
You would not think that he would be timid
But he had lived a horrible life
An elephant
Nature’s most majestic animal
He should be living large
Proud with a gentle bearing
But not Ned
Ned is frightened
He sways from side to side
peering out timidly.
He has been a long time in a bad place
That would frighten even the bravest animal
Ned doesn’t like to eat.
He is skin and bones
Slowly, slowly he moves forward
Swaying from side to side.
Tentative
gaining a little confidence with each step.
Soon he is inside his new “place”
People help and love him
They want him to recover from what others have done to him.
I found him on the Internets
I pray for him
I want him to live a long life
in love
with friends
gaining each day
Blessing the earth with his presence
Go Ned!

April 2

2009-04-08T15:41:00.002-05:00

Today, I want you to write an outsider poem. You can be the outsider; someone else can be the outsider; or it can even be an animal or inanimate object that's the outsider. As usual, get creative with the prompt and don't be afraid to stretch the limits.

"Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
… "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Outsiders

Explorers looking for a new place to be
A home for you and for me.

A promise of a place to belong –
Somewhere to sing a brand new song.

Pilgrims looking for a land to worship free
To be with their God on bended knee

Outsiders all - found this place on the globe
As this new land they did search and probe

They explored and conquered the land
Pioneers in brave tiny bands

It was here that they pledged their lives
Humble men and their hardy wives

Others now look at these golden places
And come with hope upon their faces

No longer outsiders looking in
The Irish, the French, German and Finn

The Asian, African, Russian Turk
All have found a new place to work.

Americans all standing side by side
A part of this country. No longer outside.

April 8

2009-04-08T10:37:00.003-05:00

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about either a specific routine or routines in general. Maybe something related to taking out the trash each week or washing the dishes every night--or something more bizarre (yet still a routine).

Every day it's the same
I think the dogs are to blame
They start to whine
At the door they pine
That is their claim to fame

My oatmeal they must share
To be selfish I would not dare
They stare and whine
At my feet they pine
Then they lick the plates bare.

They lay around all day on the floor
And only get up to go out the door
Their needs are met just fine
They have no need to whine,
I doubt they could ask for more.

My life by them it is controlled - I can't sleep late
Up at 7:15 - it is my fate
For some freedom and rest some time that is mine
I would enjoy before I am in a box of pine
But I must their needs serve - just great.

Each night it is in and out
The treats they want - no doubt
I do what they ask and walk the line
And really I like it just fine
Serving the dogs is what it is all about.

Catch up

2009-04-07T20:55:00.003-05:00

April 1

For today's prompt, I want you to write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc. Have fun with it.

I don’t know where it came from
I saw something and then wrote a poem.
It just bubbled out of the miasma that is my head

flowing
just like lava from a volcano

I don’t know why but it eventually solidified
and a poem was born.

Playing "Catch Up"

2009-04-07T20:45:00.001-05:00

April 3

Today's prompt: Take the phrase "The problem with (blank)" and replace the "(blank)" with a word or phrase. Make this the title of your poem and then write a poem to fit with or juxtapose against that title. For instance, you could have poems with the titles of "The problem with government," "The problem with advanced mathematics," or "The problem with bipolar penguins." You know the drill: have fun, be creative. (You're all already doing such an amazing job that Tammy and I are trying to figure out logistical ways of getting the poems down to 5-a-day for the guest judges. Keep it up!)y.

The problem with poetry is that nobody reads it
I do but then I am weird.
If I write a poem a few of my friends read it but most people tell me
"I don’t like poetry."

Well they should --
Poetry is love,
emotion,
humor,
fun
tragedy
stories of life

Poetry tells it like it is
Opens up the universe
inspires the soul
calms the nerves
causes laughter and tears

Poetry does all of that
and it makes me whole.

A Poem A Day

2009-04-07T20:07:00.000-05:00

Prompt #1: I want you to write a clean poem. Take this however you wish. Clean language, clean subject matter, or cleaning the dishes. Of course, some twisted few will automatically link "cleaning" with hired hitmen. That's okay, as long as your poem is somehow linked to clean.

Bright clean cover up
It fell during the night.
Covering the dirt
hiding the mud
But don't worry

In a few days it will melt
Then we will have mud again

Prompt #2: I want you to write a dirty poem. Take all that stuff I wrote in the first prompt and twist it upside down. The opposite of clean is dirty; so, do what ya gotta do to produce a dirty poem. (Gosh, I hope this challenge doesn't get too messy as a result.)

Mud,
The dogs
love it.

Kids eat it
pigs roll in it
(or so the story goes)

The carpet shows it
and I
Well, I abhor it.

Can't we have the nice, clean snow back?

2009-04-06T15:16:00.004-05:00

For today's poem, I want you to write a poem about something missing. It can be about an actual physical object or something you just can't put your finger on (like "love" or "the spirit of Christmas" or something).

Where are they?
I've looked high
I've even looked low.

They must be around here someplace
Probably right in front of my face!

They have to be here!
On the shelf
Under the rug

Where can they be?
Are they hiding from me?

Perhaps I need help
I'll call my physic
She'll know where to look

I know I will find them - I need them, I do.
This is making me sad and blue.

I am growly and mean
Not in the drawer -
Nowhere to be seen

There is just one more place to search
Since they are not under the canary's perch

Ah - there they are
Now I'm ready to go!

For more on A Poem A Day go to Poetic Asides.

A Poem A Day

2009-04-05T09:07:00.005-05:00

I found a new Site through Nessa (ane of my Blog readers. It is A Poem A Day. I am going to use it to try and write more poetry. It goes here since this is my poetry blog and I have been neglecting poetry. First Prompt is:
For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem about a landmark. It can be a famous landmark (like Mount Rushmore or the Sphinx) or a little more subdued (like the town water tower or an interesting sign).

Pyramid

1976
Trip to Egypt
Rode a camel and went inside
Khufu's Pyramid.
Dark and dim.
It should be damp but this is Egypt
(Nothing is damp here except the Nile)
Narrow corridor angling up
They call it the Grand Gallery but there are no pictures on the walls.
Now - inside the King's Chamber
An empty sarcophagus.
It seems there should be a sign:
Napoleon Slept Here!

2008-08-28T10:32:00.004-05:00

It is a bright, bright day
Until you follow the road by the river
Then the sun and sky are blotted out
by overhanging branches
and images of very strange things
lurking in the shadows

A Capitol Fourth

2008-07-04T20:30:00.000-05:00

They trotted out the "old guys!"
Jerry Lee and Huey Lewis (no relation)

heavier and more sedate than in their heyday.

but they still have IT! (Whatever IT is.)

The masses perform their tribal dance
"Whole lotta shakin goin on."

Goodness Gracious - Great balls of Fireworks!

We celebrate the 232nd Fourth.

God Bless - God Bless America!

Annoying

2008-04-23T15:20:00.002-05:00

He is an annoying little man.
I imagine his mother liked him
but she was probably annoying also.

He has an opinion about everything
and shares it whether we want to hear it
or not.

My mother warned me that
“short people” were obnoxious
(some of the time)
I have met some who weren’t.

But this guy is just annoying.
He thinks I want to know what he thinks
about everything.

I don’t!

I know some other guys that way.
Some who mumble
some who shout
Some who only want to be my friend
if I can give them something
or do something for them.

This guy isn’t like that
he is just annoying

and – of course,

I’m not.

April 23, 2008

Stone Flowers

2008-04-07T20:44:00.004-05:00

Stone flowers growing on a hillside
above my great grandfather's farm.

The history of my town is buried here.
Some of the flowers are tall
most are small - stunted.

Walking among them I come across
old friends and family

Waiting there for me to join them.

I sometimes wonder if the garden
will run out of space.

Everybody there had a story to tell.
I wonder what it was.

waiting

2008-03-04T14:03:00.003-06:00

welcome
you’ve got mail

i get excited.
someone is contacting me.

who can it be
a family member with an update on great uncle charlie

a friend with a clever movie or joke
these things fly around cyberspace with the speed of light

my sister with news about her cat
it’s ok, i tell her about my dog

a lodge brother responding to my question
(which he almost never does)
i'll continue to wait and hope

someone who wants to go out to lunch
or just another routine reminder from an automated alert

nope, not today
just another coupon

well at least i will eat well
and cheaply

Jay Cole Simser,
March 4, 2008

An Appreciation

2008-01-18T13:28:00.000-06:00

We share our world with wonderful creatures
Whales, wolves and elegant butterflies
Majestic elephants, eagles and some everyday critters

Tiny grubs (good for eating if you are starving)
Lobsters and shrimp (good for eating any time)
Sexy spiders (who eat their mates)
White tigers (who will eat anyone)

We share this world with a myriad of creatures

Waiting for us to enjoy them.
Some are huge – others tiny
All are marvels and make us wonder
How did this diversity develop?
What is our responsibility to them all?

Or are we just another part of the total picture
Playing out our role unconscious that what we do
Is just part of the whole scheme of some super being in the cloud
Who watches us as we watch the wonderful creatures put here with us.
Are we just “fish in a bowl” swimming our existence around and around
Unaware of anything but the now?

Or are we here to learn to appreciate this myriad of living creatures
And preserve and conserve it?
Maintaining the wonder that is our universe.
Learning Love from puppies and kittens and even wolves
Who all have that one basic emotion bestowed upon us
By the Creator – To whom I will be forever grateful for giving me the
power to appreciate ALL that has been made.

Why Members Leave

2007-12-31T11:16:00.002-06:00

Did you make him feel welcome?
Did you hold out your hand?
Did you listen to his troubles?
With him, did you stand?

Are the secrets which you shared
Ones that will keep him coming back?
Or are they merely empty forms
And it’s brotherhood they lack?

Was there something for him to find
Here among his Brothers and friends?
Or did he look in vain
For those on whom he could depend?

Was this a place for him to shine
To be with others of like mind?
With true fellows of the craft,

Was that there for him to find?

If all these things are here
Nothing will keep him away.
If not, I doubt that anyone

Can persuade him to stay.

December 31, 2007

Another Third Degree

2007-11-19T23:25:00.000-06:00

Once again the drama unfolds
Parts are played and lessons told

A Brother enters - hoodwinked, unaware
Of what fell doings will happen there.

He need not fear, the Craft is kind.
‘tis a great lesson which he will find.

The Obligation is taken yet one more time
and still another vow is made.

Since ancient times Brothers learn and grow
This sacred mystery to know.

To learn to be a Master subduing all strife
Brothers helping Brothers throughout life

No secrets here - the truth is for all to know
To study, to learn, and always to grow.

To find God’s reward at the end of the search
A Master Mason, a Brother, a true friend each.

Lodge is a school and our life a study, we work together and once again
The drama unfolds, parts are played and we learn to be men.

Contentment

2007-11-09T13:23:00.001-06:00

Wraped in my terry cloth robe,

Reclining on my chair.

Bailey climbs up and stretches out against my leg.

Cassie (cat) carefully positions herself on my shoulder like a fur wrap.

And Max (not to be left out) comes and stands beside me and whuffles to have his ears scratched.

It's nap time and how could I be more content?

The world can go on by while my friends and I recline together. Perfect!

November 9, 2006

Pigeons

2007-11-03T23:17:00.000-05:00

I always thought of Pigeons as “rat birds”

Hanging around everywhere – sitting and shitting on everything.

But they were kinda pretty. Iridescent feathers that caught the light just right.

We used to have lots of pigeons.

I wonder where they have gone.

November 3, 2007

2007-11-03T23:12:00.001-05:00

Driving across Iowa on Highway 30

November - clear, crisp day

Fall. You can still see the colors on the trees.

Iowa is not flat!

The Bohemian hills open vistas of Iowa beauty.

The mind edits out the garbage.
Rusty combines, wagons, telephone wires.
Some hidden midst the brush.

I can’t take a picture because they would ruin it.
That is all you would see.

Sometimes the “garbage” is really very beautiful.
A barn falling down, weathering away.
A pile of brush. Waiting for the sacrificial burn.

Telephone poles line the road. Their crosses remind me of Spartacus

Crucifixions carried out - evenly spaced - along the Roman road.

He wanted freedom.

Iowa is free.

Iowa is beautiful.

Just look!

The Ladies Who Lunch

2007-10-11T22:58:00.000-05:00

The ladies have assembled around their luncheon table.
Harriet, Margaret, Susie and Mabel.

One by one they came to eat
to chat and visit – again to meet.

Smiles, laughs, greetings galore
friendship, love and purses on the floor.

They talk and share and order their lunch
You can tell they are a most friendly bunch

Getting together once a week
this gathering is not for the meek.

Their salads come and their forks they deploy
you can tell this is a luncheon they will enjoy.

They catch up on all the news
Sharing with one another their views.

No gossip here – they are not that type
But occasionally you will hear a gripe.

About a husband , son or some other man
Someone who should be hit over the head with a pan.

But – they are really to sweet, gentle and neat
And lunch is is soon over – finished, complete.

Napkins are used and the bill is split
The ladies who lunch are ready to quit.

Hugs and kisses all around
Purses are picked up from the ground.

They are soon off to their afternoon pleasures
This is a luncheon that they will treasure.

The ladies have met once again for lunch
A most friendly, congenial , wonderful bunch.

To Do

2007-10-07T22:14:00.000-05:00

There are places in this world that I will never see.
People who I will never meet and
food that I will never eat.

But someone else will

There are roads over which I shall never travel
and bridges, that I shall never cross.
I may never travel to the moon

But someone else has.

There are poems, which I shall never write.
Some movies and plays will never be seen by me
and there are just too many books to read.

But someone else can.

There are songs to be written
Paintings to be painted
Dances to be danced.

By someone or something.

So get out there and do as much as you can
Do, Be, Become that someone.
Take pictures and write about it
Then share it with me.

So I can do it too.

October 7, 2007

Dick Campbell

2007-09-23T22:14:00.000-05:00

Dick Campbell

Sometimes a man stands so tall
In our eyes that his
Life is a shining beacon for others.
Virtuous and righteous for
Everyone to emulate
Ready to help another
Fortunate are his family and friends
One such as this was our Brother, the
eXraordinary, Dick Campbell .

Jay Cole Simser
July 31, 2004

I wrote this in my head on the way back from Dick's funeral. It is an acrostic. The highlighted letters spell out his e-mail address. Dick was a Past Grand Master of the Grand Lodge and also of the Grand Council. He received the Columbian Award from the General Grand Council and was an outstanding man. His wife was one of my High School Teachers.

The Little Things

2007-09-19T15:18:00.001-05:00

It’s the little things that matter or so they say
I hear that a little pigeon crap helped bring down a bridge in Minnesota.
Pretty little, wouldn’t you say?

Erosion eats away at mountains
The Grand Canyon was formed by a little river
Microbes so little you can’t see them
Can put a gigantic elephant on its knees.

All done by a “little thing”
A little thing that counts.

A little idea can grow into a fortune
or it can cause the loss of one.

That little baby born yesterday
becomes the center of the family’s life.

and a little puppy will brighten anyone’s day.

Little things can twist us up,
stretch us out
or turn us around.
A little nap can restore our energy.
As can a little bite.

A little word or a comment can wound the soul
with pain you think will never go away

but best of all a little hug or smile can heal it
and restore your balance.
It is those “little” things that count and make a difference.

So look for the “little things” – they have big value.

September 19, 2007

Thank You Mr. Bin Laden

2007-09-12T07:36:00.001-05:00

Thank You, Mr. Bin Laden
(Written after attending the Philadelphia Orchestra performance at C.Y. Stephens Oct. 4, 2001)
The orchestra came and got ready to play
The first violinist bowed his note.
Out came the conductor ready to lead,
The music started and the audience stood up.
We had come to hear romantic music to lift our spirits
Instead our national anthem started the program
Not a dry eye in the house - some sang along others were choked up.

Thank you, Mr. Bin Laden, for giving us back our patriotism.

We watched as our national tragedy turned into a national desire
A desire first for revenge and then for healing.
We became aware of the plight of a people
Living a world away. We saw how their government treats its own.
We became aware of the women of Afghanistan and the miserable life which is theirs.
We watched as you hid in your hole behind the skirts of the innocent.
We saw your people flee from their homes and we sent aid to help them

Thank you, Mr. Bin Laden, for turning our eyes onto you and yours.

We watched horrified on Sept. 11 when the planes took out the towers.
We saw, instantly, on our modern miracle of television as people died.
We listened to the mayor as he urged us to calm in his dignified manner.
We cried and mourned for those who became heroes as they sacrificed themselves to save others.

Thank you, Mr. Bin Laden, for showing us the heroism of our own.

We were a nation divided. Divided by party and politics.
A nation with each going their own way.
Complacent and probably unworthy of our heritage.
You brought us together with your cowardly acts.

Thank you, Mr. Bin Laden for unifying us once again.

I wrote this right after 9/11. I did not keep a copy of it but it has been living on the Des Moines Register Web Site since then. I discovered it while "googling" myself (Thank you Craig Ferguson for the idea) and have reclaimed it. It is so sad that Mr. Bush has squandered theunity we had at that time and divided us and wasted our resources with his "oil" war.

Fried Green Tomatoes

2007-08-28T20:27:00.000-05:00

I remember eating fried green tomatoes.

Their tart/sweet flavor brings back my childhood!

Memories of Sunday dinners. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, sweet corn and tomatoes. But most of all those wonderful fried green tomatoes.

You can still have them if you can find the green tomatoes.

I am to lazy to grow them. But once a season I cajole the ladies at the farmer's market to bring me a few green tomatoes.

Then I slice them, roll them in flour and fry them in butter. Not a good thing for my diet but wonderful for my memories.

They take me back to home and to dinners around my grandmother's table.

My mother liked liver and onions but I had to have a minute steak when that was on the menu. But everybody loved the fried green tomatoes.

Life changes, people die - others are born but when I can have my fried green tomatoes and a bacon sandwich I bring it all together again and I remember those magical moments.

Got to thinking about these when I was watching Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. It was a great movie and the tomatoes I had after writing these were sinfully delicious.

Thanks Mom

2007-08-26T23:22:00.003-05:00

My mother wasn’t a saint.
And I wouldn’t have wanted her to be.

She liked to have fun
and she raised her kids on her own.
(with a little help from family and friends.)

But she was my MOM
She gave a lot to us and taught us how to live.
How to be a friend and how to give
How to care and how to love.

She didn’t have all the things her sisters had
But in the end I think she had lots more.
We were most fortunate in our Mother
my sister and I and we know it.
We love our aunts but were glad Ruthie was our Mom.

We never lose our loved ones.
They are always with us.
Sometimes we forget
Sometimes we lose our way
and I want to say thanks for reminding me of my Mom
and what she said to me.
“Don’t let one person spoil something you enjoy.”
Thanks, Mom!

We never lose our mothers when they die. They remain with us no matter what. I was very fortunate in my mother.

Words

2007-08-05T10:14:00.000-05:00

To avoid:

I
Me
Mine
Give it to me
I want
Can’t
Don’t
Go away
I hate you

To use:
You
We
Our
Give
Take this
It’s for you
Can I help?
What can I do.
I like you
I love you

Dedicated to Elinor Kornhauser

Elinor was my friend. I loved her. She was a true lady. I miss her.

2007-08-01T22:03:00.000-05:00

Thumbing through a travel guide
A word or two brings a picture
Vivid and real
to my mind
Suddenly I am transported
to a place I have been before -

Reliving a magical moment
Being there!
Having it all again
Without moving from my armchair.

2007-08-01T21:39:00.000-05:00

A Word:

(To those "Born Agains" who think

that they are the only ones

who are going to heaven.)

Consider

if you will

who did Jesus scorn

when He was here with us?

Was it the poor, the meek, the sinner?

Or perhaps was it the

Temple priests

the righteous Scribes

and Pharisees who

received the disapproving glance.

when you smugly tell me that

you are "Saved"

And I must think and "Be" like

you

Consider who it was that

Jesus scorned -

The folks like me or ?

Photo by Bob Kelly

I hate hypocrisy and to me the self-righteous so-called Christians who are described here are just awful (I was going to say despicable but wasn't sure I could spell it.)

My Internet is Down

2007-07-26T14:31:00.001-05:00

My Internet is down!
It the same all over town.

I called Qwest and got shuffled around.
I waited for almost an hour.
Each minute my expression more sour

I feel helpless, I have no power
I can’t check my e-mail or write on my blog
My life has gone into an uncertain fog.

I am mired in an impassible bog.
How will I know what in the world is going on
I need a note from my friend Don

And Charlie, Paul, Taner and even Ron
I need to read the news and check my Americablog
And hunt for the perfect image of a frog.

The one that is sitting there on a log.
I finally connect with the DSL tech guy.
He is nice and pleasant - American as apple pie.

We talk and he checks the line – Oh, my!
“In your area we seem to have an outage
They are working on it – Now don’t get into a rage!”

I think this guy really earns his wage.
He is nice and pleasant – understanding too.
He knows I’m an Internet junkie through and through.

By the time with our phone call we are through
He promises to call me when things are fixed.
So I work on this poem with blessings, mixed.

And wait while the company does their tricks.
(Still waiting four hours later)

July 26, 2007

I found out later that it had been fixed earlier but they had not told me. I felt disconnected to my world (cyber-space) and was really frustrated.

Numbers

2007-07-26T14:30:00.000-05:00

30233949….my name is Don 78543
Numbers! We one when we are born

345-90-0765 - 76P34421
They secure us socially and reserve our rooms

76589021 – Play the lottery
Win millions, or win a bunch
Yeah right - if we all got that much
The government would feel the crunch

Numbers

They are everywhere –

Serial numbers and cereal numbers
Get this one, register that one

Insidious

We wait in lines (the British wait in queues)
Thinking of numbers gives me the blues.

Coffee can be found in aisle number one
Call this number when you are done.

One and One make two

Unless they make a baby and then there are three
That’s beginning numbers
And that is enough – this poem is through,

Finished, complete, done
Oh wait, there’s more - just one (1)

It’s all of that – and ended two (2)
(by the way I know I didn’t use the correct too)
There are three (3) of them you see
and only four (4) of me..

July 26, 2007

After a longish hiatus of writing I started writing poetry again and this is one of them. I think it is kind of fun. I added one line tonight 9/20/07 (Writing is never finished.)

Windows

2007-07-24T23:28:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine used to think that the people on TV were peeking through her window.
She thought it was odd that they were also peeking through our windows.

Sometimes I feel like I am always on the outside looking into other people’s windows

You can walk down the street and look in store windows.
I used to do display windows in the store where I worked.
I doubt that my windows sold much merchandise. But, it was fun to do.

You can see a lot looking out windows; especially if they are on the top floor.
But if they are too high you might get dizzy. That’s called vertigo.

Sometimes I feel like I am always on the outside looking into other people’s windows.

The eyes are supposed to be the windows of the soul.
What if you don’t think you have one.
What do people see?

My grandfather used to tell me that my brown eyes meant something.
(about what I was full of)
Then I would see his grin reflected in the window.

Sometimes I feel like I am always on the outside looking into other people’s windows

Windows let in light and keep out the cold.
We put candles in the windows at Christmas time.
And decorations so people can see the lights.

Sometimes I feel like I am always on the outside looking into other people’s windows

We open windows to let in fresh air and close them when it rains.
But the smell of rain is the greatest smell there is in the world.
Much better than pig farm.

We peek through windows to see who rang the doorbell or if the mail is here yet.

We peek into windows to see if anyone is home. Sometimes we see each other.

Of course if there is a curtain on the window no one can see through it.

Sometimes I feel like I am always on the outside looking into other people’s windows.

When you are on the outside it looks warm and cozy inside.
You never know what may be there. Happiness or something else?

Sometimes I feel like I am always on the outside looking into other people’s windows.
Hey, how about it. Will you let me in?

Jay Cole Simser. July 24, 2007

Again this was one I wrote when I was working through some problems. Not great poetry perhaps but it served its purpose.

My Closet

2007-07-04T13:00:00.000-05:00

In the rear of my closet
live
memories of former lives.
Boxed away in crusty cardboard compartments
Waiting for me to re-find them - the
dreams, desires, decorations of my life.

Pulling them out
one by one,
I relive the events, emotions, energies
Of my accumulation.

They bring pictures to mind of
forgone friends and fascinations;
Grabbing my heartstrings and holding them hostage.

I put them away –
unable to part with them

There they will rest –
waiting until they are released once again
from their dark resting place
by me or by my successor
Who will wonder –
“Why did he keep all his junk!”

November 1999

There was a show on TV called Judging Amy. Amy and her brother were cleaning out a closet. That scene was the inspiration for that poem. This was the first one that I used triple alliteration. I love it as I do most of the ones which "wrote themselves.."

When First We Meet

2007-07-04T12:59:00.001-05:00

March 1981
I like it best when first we meet,
As with friendly faces and smiles we greet.

Before we find what is in our hearts
And differences begin to part
Before the words “I disagree!”
Puts up barriers ‘tween you and me.
So that with each other we cease to share
that which might leave us bare.
I know there is something to be said
When to a friendship we are led
As we talk and share and grow
And one another get to know
But still
I like it best when first we meet,
As with friendly faces and smiles we greet.

On Being a Man?

2007-07-04T12:56:00.000-05:00

You can cry at weddings and funerals
and no one knows it is because your heart is breaking.

You can choke up while singing “Amazing Grace”
and people will think it is because you are moved by the song.

It’s OK to let a tear slip out when the flag passes by or when the Diva sings “Un bel di” – They just think it’s natural. (If maybe a little too tender.)

Let them flow while driving home in the dark,
wishing for the comfort you can’t have.

But don’t let anyone know they are really falling for something lost.
Put on a façade for the world for you are a MAN!

You are not supposed to have feelings –
You are supposed to “buck it up” and “deal with it.”

You aren’t supposed to care,
At least not so anyone will know.

But then, I do… care that is -Perhaps too much
I just must learn to hide it.

So at night when I can’t sleep and my pillow is more than a little damp
I lie awake yearning for your (lost?) friendship

Grateful that I have love in my soul
For it is important to love.

So I will love you and send you my caring
And my love even if it is never returned

Be Loved - j

I know some guys that think it is bad for them to cry. Nature gave us emotions and tear ducts to use and it is OK. I found out that crying does help ease the hurt. You may never get over it but you can get past it and crying is a help.

2007-07-04T08:26:00.001-05:00

Have you ever noticed as you drive down the road
The little cars passing you are all painted red!
Usually driven by someone with a look of dedication on their face
Dedicated to being in first place

What is it they used to say: "Better red than dead."

Nature's Public Art

2007-07-04T08:23:00.000-05:00

To The Tree
On The South Side Of The City Hall (Nature’s Public Art)

You’ve rushed to put on your new dress.
( Are you planning to wear it to the Harvest Ball?)

Some of your neighbors have begun to try on their jewels.
But you stand there – resplendent – alone – in autumnal glory!

Others cling to their summer frocks but, trend setter that you are, you couldn’t wait to show off your newest gown.

Some seeing your splendor, and knowing that they cannot compete, have disrobed and retired to their winter beds.

Soon the rest will put on their colorful Ball finery – but none can match your beautiful display.

At Church one Sunday Marnie Goeppinger commented on the beautiful tree by the Ames City Hall. I drove down to look and this is the result. The picture is not the actual tree.)

Betty's Dancers

2007-07-04T08:14:00.000-05:00

BRIGHT COLORS
from all over the world.
Moving through
space and time-
Betty’s dancers
filling our afternoon
with
Beauty
Movement
Love
And FUN!

We watch them
leap
jump
hop
soar
and fly

And we are with them,
They lift us from our
day to day world
And inspire us
with Beauty

November 21st 1986
(Written after watching the Children’s Theater
presentation of the I. S. U. Dance Theater. Carole Horowitz is the driving force behind the Children's Theater and Betty Toman, I.S.U. Dance brought her dancers to perform for the students.)

My Solution

2007-07-04T08:12:00.000-05:00

September 1984
The “Word is out – I heard it today,
The schools are in trouble – or so they say,
With declining enrollment and low teacher pay,
Our future looks to be a bleak and dismal day.
The politicians wrote “A Nation at Risk”

Their solution to what ails us – tsk, tsk, tsk,
Those who have worked to study the schools,
Feel that we’re on board “The Ship of Fools.”
We’ve talked and talked and we’ve planned and planned,
But it all came out to be just scratching in the sand.
For the real solution to all education’s woes,
Is as plain to me as the nails on my toes.
The one common thing through all the reports
It shines through the rhetoric and all the retorts
Education is necessary for our “National Defense”
So – here is my idea – please don’t take offense.
We simply apply to the Army and Navy,
The Air Force and Marines and get part of their gravy.
We move to the Pentagon, the Department of Education
And soon we’ll be saving this great Nation
We add one more to the Joint Chiefs of Staff,
Just think about it – don’t sit there and laugh,
We’ll have equal opportunity to rise through the ranks
And all of the people will give us their thanks.
All of the staff would wear uniforms shiny and bright,
We’ll know that we are doing is fighting for the right.
Merit pay would go out the door,
You might have a general who sweeps the floor
Everyone would have his or her own rank,
And the
Budget would have dough in the bank,
Supplies would suddenly be abundant,

Begging for money would be redundant.
The cash is there for the bombers and M-X,
The government is always ready with those checks.
The money will come in thick and fast
Just think of the field trips – what a blast!
And no little kid would kick the teacher in the shin,
If the Service knows one thing – it’s discipline.
If they don’t do their homework – it’s into the Brig,
And absolutely no one would give a fig.
No one could disagree – they’d dare not,
For fear of being court-martialed and shot.
The U. S. O would come to entertain us,
We’d go on those field trips in a camouflaged bus,
We would march around the school and salute the flag,
I think it would work – I’m not being a wag.
And after putting in our thirty years
Just think of the retirement my dears.
I think we could our status regain,
By joining with the Armed Forces, using our brain,
Our schools would a delightful place be
If only the reformers would listen to me!

A Therapy Poem. Once again in reaction to the politicos who think they know everything.

A Mason’s Working Tools

2007-07-04T08:10:00.001-05:00

A tool resting upon a shelf
Can do nothing by itself.
But if taken up with purpose pure
It can build and shape for sure

The Mason's tool will help him grow
If he looks inside to learn and know
The tool has a greater message for each
As life's important lessons it does teach.

That tool in his hands can change his life.
Raise him above mortal strife
Used with purpose and with care
He can build a temple fair.

Some tools give a standard true,
To measure our lives through and through
While others shape a character fair
As we learn their lessons there.

The compass around us a circle draws
In which we overlook our flaws
With the plumb line and the level we meet others.
Upright and true we travel with our brothers

The gavel governs and teaches all alike
That our rough edges from us we should strike
Smoothing and shaping as a block of stone
Ready to stand before God's holy throne.

With a twenty-four inch gauge
time is divided into work and rest,
Service to God and to our fellow man -
measured and laid out - drawn by the best.
A trowel binding into a sacred group
spreads the cement of brotherly love
Masons building, learning and growing -
guided with light from above.

We use our tools most sublime.
And take them up our lives to shape
Tools for learning - tools for growing
Tools for building - tools for knowing.

And when at last our journey ends
And from our hands the tools fall
When tis time to "Part upon the square"
May it be said of each and of all

He knew the lessons which were taught
And with those lessons hard he wrought
To build a character so sublime
One noble, upright, pure and fine.
One which stood the test of time.

This poem means a lot to me as a Mason the working tools teach me many lessons. I am pleased with it.

My Brother

2007-07-04T08:07:00.001-05:00

He may be young
He may be old.
He may be a doctor,
A bricklayer,
A Lawyer or college professor
No matter
I meet my Brother
“On the Level”

He may be richer than I
He may be poorer
Drive a big car
Or an old jeep.
He may wear plain clothes
Or be a fancy dresser
No matter
I greet my Brother
“On the Level”

He may have taken his degrees over time
Or received them all in one day
For the time being
He may hold office
In the Lodge or in the state
He may be married
Have children or not
No matter
He is my Brother
And we meet
“On the Level”

The whole idea of meeting "on the level" appeals to me. In Masonry we don't (or shouldn't) worry about any other title that BROTHER.

Biker Santa

2007-07-04T08:04:00.001-05:00

T’was the week before Christmas -I had lots to do
With my Christmas shopping I was only half through.
But just now I decided I needed to rest.
So it was off to the recliner and my own little nest.
The tree was up but that’s all that was done
This year Christmas just didn’t seem like fun.

I was sitting and resting with a fresh cup of coffee
Staring at that undecorated tree.
Those list’s of “to do’s” danced round in my head.
Packages needed wrapping and I must mix that batch of bread.
Presents to buy and cookies to bake
Cards to mail and sweaters to make.

With all that to do I must get busy
If I worry to much I’ll be in a tizzy,
But, it’s snowing out now so I’ll just take a nap.
I must pet the kitty who just climbed into my lap.)
Just rest awhile before starting all that work
(Lest you think that my duties I’d shirk

Then all of a sudden horns honking were heard
“What’s that” I exclaimed, “Oh my word!”
I leaped to my feet scattering coffee and cat,
Wondering about the noise, just what is that?
What is happening out there today?
I rushed to the window to see who was at play.

I gazed outside, up and down my street
And all of a sudden my eyes got a treat.
Eight bikers rode by, horns blaring and tooting
With green leather jackets and bags full of booty.
Each biker, an elf, with pointy little ears
And to my eyes came wondrous tears

I giggled, I laughed, You might say I howled.
And then I looked and spotted what followed
He came with a roar, a wave and a toot.
Oh Santa, I thought, “What a hoot!’
Biker Santa roaring by on a big red Harley
Making noise enough to wake Jacob Marley.

Christmas changes you’ve made
What plans have you laid?
He looked up with a grin and he gave me a wink.
So I pulled away from the old kitchen sink.
A wave of his hand and a smile from those cheeks
At a new way of thinking he’d given me a peek

I thought of the lists of things I needed to do.
And I realized that Santa had one too.
You shouldn’t have to rush around town
With your face set in a perpetual frown
While you cook and bake those cakes so fruity.
Christmas shouldn’t be just work and duty.

No, Christmas time comes once a year
With Santa, elves and (sometimes) reindeer
As Santa rode by on his bike of red,
He waved, grinned and then he said,
“You know, our work we should not shun
But, remember friends, Christmas should be FUN!”

Here is wishing you all a very Merry (and Fun) Christmas.

I looked out in front one day and saw this guy going by on a motorcycle dressed as SANTA. He was having fun and it was contagious.

A Terrorist Organization?

2007-07-04T08:01:00.000-05:00

We are not the enemy!
The Secretary of Education called the NEA a “terrorist” organization.

Fine!
I’ll be a terrorist
I’ll fight
I’ll fight for the kids:
The ones who have parents too busy to care for them,
The ones with two parents at odds with each other on how to they should be raised,
The kids who come home after school to an empty apartment or get up in the morning and fix their own breakfast.
For them I’ll be a terrorist

I’ll be a terrorist
I’ll fight for the teachers who have given their lives nurturing other people’s kids.
The teachers who need a living wage but still subsidize their classrooms because there is no money in the budget for books and supplies.
The teachers who cry every night for their students.
For them I’ll be a terrorist.

I’ll be a terrorist
I’ll be glad to fight those politicians who would divide our country
And try to destroy the public schools.
By accusing the people who care the most for the students
Of not caring.
I’ll fight those who condemn all teachers and lump all students into one mold.
Who would “leave no child behind” but by their actions leave many out.
For them I’ll be a terrorist.

I’ll be a terrorist.
Because I care;
I care for the kids who have no one else to care for them.
The ones who can’t figure out how to control themselves
The ones who are “hooked” on something, anything – drugs, bad behavior,
I’ll cry for the ones who have no one to cry for them.
For them I’ll be a terrorist

Call me a terrorist –
Sure call me names.
Accuse me of fighting.
But don’t tell me I don’t care.
Because I do.
And because I do ---
I am a terrorist!

Jay Cole Simser
A proud member of the NEA terrorist organization

Again this is Therapy which helps when the "jerk" politicians bash educators. They seem to do it regularly. I guess I could do some things to them that would actually cause them pain but the would I not be lowering myself to their level?

Cochise's Grandson

2007-07-04T07:58:00.000-05:00

Looking Back --

What can I see?

I see back to when my people were free.
Before the stealers came.

I see vast plains and unpolluted skies.
Before the spoilers came.

I see enormous herds of animals, buffaloes, deer, elk!
Before the killers came.

I see homes and families working together free and happy
Before the dividers came.

I hear the music of my world -
joyful, rhythmic, haunting

Before you came.

I took a writing workshop in Des Moines. This was one of the things I wrote down there. The really neat thing was reading it aloud to the group and hearing their applause. that is a memory I'm keeping. The picture isn't really Cochise or his grandson but i liked it. It is done with crayola's

A Mason’s Faith

2007-07-04T07:55:00.000-05:00

Is Masonry a religion.?
No
Not a religion
But a man must have faith
A Mason’s trust is in his God.

He first came to the Lodge
Was asked to kneel…
A Brother prayed for him.
Another walked with him,
Never alone –
Always upright like the Plumb
Trusting in the Brother and his God.

He walked a path others had walked.
For centuries every Mason has walked that path -- learning and growing
Trusting his Brothers and his God.

Progress brought light, more light and further light.
The light from God “In the beginning.”
The light of learning and knowledge.
Light from the God in whom he put his trust.

The Mason grew as he made his promises.
Secrets to keep – Secrets to look for.
The Master’s Word was lost.
Searched for and never found.
But still he could trust in his God.

Working tools taught him lessons
A good man was made better.
Passions were subdued and the tools helped him build.
Build his character as a stone
Whose rough edges are smoothed
For the Temple of His God.

Almighty Father of the Universe
Great Architect of the Universe
However He is addressed
He is the One to trust.

“Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in Unity” The Mason prayed that discordant passions be subdued,
That Brotherly Love and Affection be spread with the Master’s trowel.
And God is the one he trusts to answer that prayer.

And so may the blessing of Heaven
Rest upon all Masons. May we meet upon the level and part upon the square always trusting in our God.

Not a religion
But a man must have faith
A Mason’s trust and his faith
are in his God.

Jay Cole Simser
March 22. 2004
Inspired by M.W. Brother Tom Eggleston
Dedicated to R.W. Bill Yungclas

Tom Eggleston, PGM is one of my Masonic Heroes. When I decided to write a tribute to Brother Bill as he became Grand Chaplain I thought of Tom and he was the inspiration for this.

The Smile

2007-07-04T07:45:00.001-05:00

The man was struggling with his bicycle outside the store.
His face grimaced as he tried to get his clumsy hands to work.
A homely face – wrinkled with evidence of years of struggle as he tried to cope with an unwieldy world.
You could tell he was used to being ignored.
Most look away from such a face.

But today I didn’t look away.
I grabbed his eyes with mine,
We looked at each other and I sent a smile his way.

The gratitude of his returning smile brightened my day
Later as I drove away I realized that in that awkward, homely smile
I had seen God’s face.
August 30, 2000

It was up at the Ace Hardware on 24th street. I was trying to connect and I would say we did.

The Lady Deer

2007-07-04T07:43:00.000-05:00

This morning as I drove up the hill,
She stepped out from between the curtain of the woods.
She processed halfway across the asphalt,
paused and looked around as if to say;
”See I’m here, look at me and know that you
share my world.”
On an ordinary day the only evidence that lives exist around us are the mute still bodies
that lay beside the road – a raccoon, a skunk and occasionally a possum.. silent testimonies of lives snuffed out quickly on a dark night.

But this morning, this bright shining morning
the Lady Deer allowed me to view her for a brief,
magical moment.
A royal, magical queen of the world..
Blessing me with her presence and a glance
before proceeding on her chosen pathway
to her royal palace in the woods.

Later when I read the newspaper, I discovered that today was the opening of deer hunting season.

It was a magical moment and I relish those little moments when I see a wild animal. This wrote itself and the irony of the final line is very poignant for me.

The Crow Convention

2007-07-04T07:41:00.000-05:00

The crows have convened across the way.
Big black birds crowousing with each other.

Hanging out with their crownies.
Strutting around
Chris, Charlie, Carlton, Clarence, and Chip.
Yakking, poking, grabbing and crowoperating.

They’re holding a convention to decide who will be crowned
King of the Crows!

They debate, deliberate and finally designate a leader.
But, as with humans, EGO gets in the way and no one is really chosen.

At the end of the day they fly away to their night homes –

Tomorrow they will convene again – unless it is a Sunday
when they will congregate.

February 17, 2000

(I wrote this during a Wednesday meeting after seeing a flock of crows on Larry Eustachy’s lawn across from the school.) It is one of my favorite because of the alliteration.

Wake Up Call

2007-07-04T07:37:00.000-05:00

I stubbed my toe late last night
while shuffling off to bed,
The pain shot from my toe
right to the top of my head.

I yelled, and screamed – jumped up and down.
I massaged my toes – rubbed them all around.
They felt much better so I resumed my trek
On down the hallway – my foot a wreck.

Next I encountered the dog’s old bone
Which he planned on chewing when all alone.
It was hard and unpleasant, soggy and wet
One of those chew things you get from the vet.

Once again I was doing my dance
As all around the house I did prance.
The next items my poor feet did encounter
My shoes lying behind the kitchen counter.
Then the dog dish and the cat’s water
I did spill – my little toesies have had their fill.

I’m wide-awake now – there’ll be no sleep tonight.
And next time - - I’ll turn on the light.

Just a "fun" poem from a true incident one night.

Queenie

2007-07-04T07:31:00.000-05:00

She wore her sunglasses like a tiara – this “Princess Royal” of the cabin.

She and her “lady-in-waiting” are traveling to the Caribbean via Florida

The “juice” she had enables her to let us all know about her recent divorce – what her next husband will be like – Oops make that “boyfriend.”

She stumbled off the plane in Chicago leaving behind a train of perfume.

Still “holding court” with her one admirer.

A character study of a fellow traveler on the airplane to Scotland.

The Return

2007-07-04T07:29:00.000-05:00

I had forgotten about
Dandelions, Dutchmen’s britches,
and daffodils
Dogtooth violets, May apples, tulips
and of course, lilacs.

Watching a film near the end of winter
I caught a glimpse of spring to come.

And now my soul sings as nature
Re-awakens from a long winter’s sleep
And brightens the world again.

Just for me!

April 25, 2005

The Green Has Returned

2007-07-04T07:26:00.000-05:00

Listen,
can you hear it?

The Green has returned
accompanied by daffodils -
dogtooth violets, Dutchman’s britches, and baby lambs.

The Green has returned
and brought with it
blue skies, clouds, gentle rain and thunderstorms!

The Green has returned
resurrected from Winter’s cold sleep
leaping up to celebrate life.

It slipped around the corner -- sneaking up on us -quietly whistling a little tune to say ”I’m baaack!”

Just a celebration of my favorite season.

Proscribed

2007-07-04T07:22:00.000-05:00

December 1979
To the tune of “Home for the Holidays”

Oh, there’s no room in school for the Holidays
For the Carols, the Holly – mistletoe
If you want to celebrate the Holidays
Then it’s to your homes that you must, of course, go.

I know a teacher who put up a
Merry Christmas sign.
She and all the children thought that
It was fine.
But the School Board, the principals
And the ACLU
Said “Forget it – it comes down
Gee, the children were sure let down.

Yes there’s no room in school for the Holidays
Just as there was no room in the Inn.
But His Star still shines upon us all
Even those who will not let his Spirit in.

A lot of people bemoan that we do not celebrate the Christian holidays in the schools. I am not one of them. I believe that anything that causes discrimination against a minority does not belong there. Be that as it may this also just sort of wrote itself one day.

Dancin' The Slow Dance

2007-07-04T07:18:00.000-05:00

Dancin’ The Slow Dance!
January 11, 2005

They came down the aisle,
Side by side,
Arm in arm.
Left foot right foot,
Forward together,
They’re dancin’ the slow dance now.

Not for them intricate steps of a Tango, Rumba or Waltz,
No Boogie Woogie, Charleston, or Cha Cha Cha
He doesn’t sweep her around the floor or dip her way back,
But they still move together,
Slow dancin’ to the music of life

You can tell theirs has been a long dance
The way they move together
A joy to watch for those who see.
(Most don’t see them).
Just an old couple moving slowly through the store

But there is rare beauty in their movement
Side by side,
Arm in arm,
Left feet forward.
Right feet forward
They’re slow dancin’ the last dance together.

I love this poem. It wrote itself. I was sitting out at West HyVee having a cup of Starbuck's coffee and noticed this couple walking down the aisle. They were tall and thin and elegant

with thinning white hair they were obviously devoted to one another and it just looked like they were dancing. I wish I knew who they were so I could share it with them,

Overnight

2007-07-04T07:09:00.000-05:00

It happened overnight
Flowers on tree branches
Scenting the air - Beautiful

Advice

2007-07-04T07:07:00.002-05:00

There is that within you that can reach a star...

Find it!

A song no one but you can hear ...

Sing it!

There is that without you that would pull you down ...

Fight it!

A bird doesn't get into trouble unless it flies too low ...

Fly high!

The universe is a question ...

Answer it!

A bird flew across the car in front of me one day and I got to thinking that it would not get into trouble if it just flew higher. It gradually grew into this. For several years I posted it as a poster on my classroom door.

Names

2007-07-04T07:07:00.001-05:00

In the movie “Mrs. Henderson Presents”
Mrs. Henderson is standing on top of the theater with her name on it
Watching bombs drop all over London.

There is a stark beauty to the scene and as she stands there watching.
She does not seem afraid. Because she knows that none of those bombs
Have her name on them.

The bullet that kills you is said to
Have your name on it.

When we finish something we put our name on it to show that
It belongs to us. And to no one else.
“Be sure to put your names on your paper!” the teacher says.

My aunt and uncle had each other’s names tattooed on their arms,
Inside hearts to show their love for each other.
That love lasted for years and years and years.

TV stars name shows after themselves.
No Ego there!

Names are important. In some cultures names are not shared
If someone knows your name they have power over you.
Jacob wrestled and asked for a blessing…instead he got a new name.
Moses listened to the burning bush and learned God’s Name.

We put names on our kids. Sometimes they change them
That is their choice. Some change them many times.
Some use one name here and another there. A. K. A.
Who are they hiding from?

Headstones put our names on life
To show that we were here.

Those bombs and bullets I mentioned earlier
Have been dropping all over the world since before I was born.
(So far none of them have had my name on it.)
I hope to keep it that way.

Businesses have names on them as do the products they make.
Brand Names have recognition. They cost more money.

Mention a name and it calls forth emotion.
“I like that name!!! “ “There is just something about that name I don’t like.”

When I finish this I will put my name on it.

Jay Cole Simser

I got the idea for this one as the first line says from the movie Mrs. Henderson Presents. It is a great movie and encourage you to see it.

If being a liberal means that:

2007-07-04T07:06:00.001-05:00

you love liberty and freedom
instead of “Patriot Acts” and trampled rights.

you care for people
instead of corporations

you support education, teachers and free public schools
instead of religious indoctrination and acts that
leave many children behind

you care for children and their well-being
instead of corporate CEO’s and their fancy lifestyle.

Fine, then call me a liberal!

If being a liberal means that:

you believe in religious freedom
instead of “everybody think alike” doctrines

you believe women are equal and should be treated (and paid) as such
instead of being “subordinate” barefoot and pregnant

you believe in supporting our troops
instead of the lies that put them in harm’s way

Fine, then I’ll take the name liberal and be proud of it!

If being a liberal means that:

you don’t believe that oil should be purchased with blood
or that greedy corporations should get rich from war

you want to preserve and defend our environment
instead of raping the land so nothing will remain for our future.

And
you believe that some forests should be saved for the animals that inhabit them
instead of destroyed for big business profit.

you believe in clean air
instead of pollution and acid rain from factory smokestacks

Then, I’ll be a liberal!

If being a liberal means that:

you believe in families no matter of whom they are composed
instead of divisive (so called) defense of marriage legislation.

you know that some folks are different from others

not through choice but because they were made that way

you know that God made Adam and Eve
as well as Adam and Steve and Ellen and Eve

And

you believe that everyone has a right to live a life free from harassment and hate
instead of living with humiliation and fear

If being a liberal means all that- then I am a liberal, an American liberal, and proud of it!

Jay Cole Simser
July 7, 2004

Another Therapy Poem. (see below) Just away to get things off my chest.

I Have No Doubt That

2007-07-04T07:05:00.001-05:00

I have no doubt that it is global warming that is contributing to the strength of recent hurricanes.
I have no doubt that there is global warming.
I have no doubt that our wasteful way of living has contributed to the speeding up of the situation.
I have no doubt that ignoring the plight of the poorest of those in our world
(just ONE world no more)
to pander to the business of the few is evil.
I have no doubt that the rape of our lands will eventually destroy the very world in which we live.
I have no doubt that our world can be a good place to live – for the rich, the few.
I have no doubt that the religions of Jesus has been hijacked by self-righteous prigs who DO NOT understand what he meant when he said, “I have come that they might have life more abundantly.”

I have no doubt that there is no place to move. Our fragile planet is all we have.

I also have no doubt that if mankind wants to they can come together and use their collective knowledge to solve the problems we have caused.

When we take self-interest out of our reasoning
And put in sincere compassion and self sacrifice into the mix
When we look to the interest of all mankind and not just a few
And tolerate no exploitation of anyone ANYWHERE!

When we sit down together with our fellows and realize that everyone has the right to a good life, and then work toward solutions to our problems, not worrying about religious beliefs and how to please God-in-the sky and worry instead about how to bring the best life for everyone within the limited resources which we have.

I have no doubt that we can become the solution instead of the problem.

Sometime I just get frustrated with the politicians and their pat answers and ignoring the problems which need solving and could be solved that I need to write a "therapy" poem. This is one of them.

50's Sock Hop - 2005

2007-07-04T07:02:00.000-05:00

Poodle skirts
Saddle shoes
Blue Jeans, penny loafers and white sox.

Listen to the music
From fifty years ago.

Watch, feet moving,
Hips twirling to the Twist.

Taking me back and I think I am in High School again.

Then I look up from feet and hips
And see lined faces and white hair.
Gosh, they look as old as me!

Then I look again and I see them as they once were
Just Kids – dancin’ and enjoyin’ themselves.

Steppin’ back in time and havin’ FUN!

Jay Cole Simser
June 25, 2005

The inspiration for this little poem was an actual sock hop with people dressed in the 50's complete with poodle skirts. It was sponsored by the Order of the

eastern Star.

Most People

2007-07-04T07:01:00.001-05:00

Most people sing just one song
give just one speech,
have just one conversation –
usually with themselves.

Most people dance
just one dance,
walk just one walk
Go to just one place - many times.

Most Rock Stars give the same concert
over and over.
Most comedians tell the same joke -
although sometimes with different punch lines.

Most Authors who write just one book
can do it many times.

Most politicians have just one idea –
usually some else’s.
If you change your audience no one knows you are boring!

Some people however
Sing several songs,
Dance many dances,
Walk in different worlds.

Some people have endless conversations with many people.

Some people never listen
but others always do.

Some people stand out and stand up.

They are original, diverse, endlessly fascinating shining stars.

Jay Cole Simser
April 26, 2005

I went to a concert at Drake University one April evening and I enjoyed it very much. I bought two of the artist's CD recordings Over the next few days I listened to them and discovered that most of the songs sounded alike. That got me to thinking that the speeches that politicians and others give are probably like that also just tweaked a little to suit the situation and thus this poem was born.

Something New

2007-07-04T06:53:00.000-05:00

PARIS, France (AP) -- Divers have discovered a new crustacean in the South Pacific that resembles a lobster and is covered with what looks like silky, blond fur, French researchers said Tuesday.

They keep discovering new things
Hidden in the world

This time it is a blond lobster
It has been off somewhere “having more fun.”

Our world is full of “wonderful things”
What a joy to find something new.

I wonder what it tastes like????

I saw an article and the idea for this poem came to mind.

The whole "fun" of this poem for me is the last line. Just like a kid it goes right into my mouth."

Jay's Poetry

Routine

Routine

Damn

Spam Poetry

Don't You

Spring

Farewell Poem

April 29, 2009

Sestina

April 27, 2009

April 26, 2009

April 25, 2009

April 24, 2009

April 23, 2009

Work

Haiku

Poem of Rebirth

Anger

April 18, 2009

Wordzzle/A Poem A Day

RED

The Street Not Taken

Two Prompt Tuesday

My Hobby April 13

A Poem A Day

The Suit

Friday

April 9, 2009

April 4

April 2

April 8

Catch up

Playing "Catch Up"

A Poem A Day

A Poem A Day

A Capitol Fourth

Annoying

Stone Flowers

waiting

An Appreciation

Why Members Leave

Another Third Degree

Contentment

Pigeons

November 3, 2007

The Ladies Who Lunch

To Do

Dick Campbell

The Little Things

Thank You Mr. Bin Laden

Fried Green Tomatoes

Thanks Mom

Words

My Internet is Down

Numbers

Windows

My Closet

When First We Meet

On Being a Man?

Nature's Public Art

Betty's Dancers

My Solution

A Mason’s Working Tools

He knew the lessons which were taughtAnd with those lessons hard he wroughtTo build a character so sublimeOne noble, upright, pure and fine.One which stood the test of time.

My Brother

Biker Santa

A Terrorist Organization?

Cochise's Grandson

A Mason’s Faith

The Smile

The Lady Deer

The Crow Convention

Wake Up Call

Queenie

The Return

The Green Has Returned

Proscribed

Dancin' The Slow Dance

Overnight

He knew the lessons which were taught
And with those lessons hard he wrought
To build a character so sublime
One noble, upright, pure and fine.
One which stood the test of time.