Sunday, April 29, 2012


Editor's note: "My father trusted everybody," Dad wrote as the introduction to this poem. "That's why we didn't have a pot to boil potatoes in, as the saying goes."

I don't suppose there's anyone
More skeptical than me.
I don't believe a word I hear,
And half of what I see.

I'd like to have the feeling
I could trust my fellow man,
But history's proven different
Ever since the world began.

I realize that maybe
I'm a skeptic to a fault,
But most of what I read or hear,
I take with a grain of salt.

It's not that I think everyone
Can look you in the eye,
With his right hand on the Bible,
And tell a bare-faced lie;

But, from my past experience,
I'd say that quite a few
Would likely do that very thing,
And cheat a little, too.

So, though I try the best I can
To treat all men as brothers,
My motto is, "In God I trust,
But be wary with all others!"
Hominy Grits (1986)

Sunday, April 22, 2012


Editor's note: Anyone who knew Dad (Slim) back in the day knew how much he loved to build things -- and Mom (Lucy) always had some kind of fix-up project for him to work on. Apparently, Dad got the construction gene from his father. But although I was allowed to help with some tasks like digging fencepost holes and hammering a few nails, that's where the whole thing stopped.

My Dad was very able
And mechanically inclined,
About as good a handy-man
As you could ever find;

And thanks to all the little tricks
He taught me, as a lad,
I really think I'm just about
As handy as my Dad.

If it's busted, I can fix it!
That is, if anybody can,
So I've earned a reputation
As a first-class handy-man!

When I gave up the single state,
My newly-wedded spouse
Was very thrilled that I could fix
Little things around the house.

I started in on what-nots,
In our early married life,
But soon went on to bigger things
Suggested by my wife!

Before I knew what happened,
She had me on the run,
She could think up projects faster
Than I could get 'em done!

I bought the house we live in,
A ranch type bungalow,
Then added on a carport,
And a screened-in patio;

And when I got it painted,
I thought I had it done;
I found I was mistaken --
I'd only just begun!

I made our kitchen cupboards,
The bookshelves on the wall,
The fireplace in the fam'ly room,
The closets in the hall;

Then I built another bathroom,
Not because we needed two--
We had to have the second one
Because the neighbors do!

Little jobs, and big jobs,
So many I recall,
It makes a fellow wonder
How he ever did 'em all!

But at last we reached the summit,
When anyone could see
We had it all completed
To the very Nth degree.

Then I longed for rest and comfort
But that wasn't what I found;
Lucy got it in her head
To change some things around!

Things, not so very long ago,
We just couldn't do without,
Have now become so obsolete
We have to tear 'em out.

I won't attempt to tell you
All the work I have in store;
And anyhow, before I'm done,
She'll dream up plenty more!

But Lucy has assured me
That she will let me be
Whenever I finish up this list
That she's made out for me.

And then, if the Lord is willing,
And lets me stay alive,
I can start to take it easy,
At the age of ninety-five!

Oh, she appreciates it all,
And that is fine and dandy,
But y'know, sometimes I sorta wish
I wasn't quite so handy!

Friday, April 13, 2012


Editor's note: New poems to this blog always come on Sundays, but since today is Friday the 13th, I figured it would be bad luck not to post it on the "right" day!

If you have superstitions,
As many people do,
I don't share your affliction,
But I sympathize with you.

Bad luck will come on Friday
No more often, let me say,
Even on the thirteenth,
Than any other day.

Black cat cross my path?
There may be truth in that;
It might turn out unlucky,
But only for the cat!

Some taboos are founded
On good solid thinking, hence
Not walking under ladders
Shows a bit of common sense.

I never see an omen
When I drop a fork or knife,
And spilling half a ton of salt
Would not mess up my life.

The reason I'm not troubled
By superstitious fears
Is the rabbit foot I've carried
For more than fifty years.

--Acres of Verse (1994)

Sunday, April 8, 2012


Editor's note: It's Easter Sunday, but last night I heard the TV weather guru mention the "s" word. Yes, it's possible we'll see more of the white stuff before Spring really settles in. I sure can identify with Dad's point of view in this poem!

There's nothing so crisp as a winter scene,
Created by new-fallen snow,
Nothing so bright as a big full moon
That shines on the picture below.

There's nothing so brisk as a winter stroll
Down a snow-covered village street,
Nothing so sharp as the crackling sound
And the crunching under your feet,

Or a tramp through the woods on a frigid day,
'Mid the stark and frost-laden trees,
Where the branches droop in their hoary garb,
And creak in the bone-chilling breeze.

Icicles garnish the orchard fence,
And gleam in the morning rays,
Nothing is more impressive to see
Than the sparkle of winter days.

Nobody knows just how many snows
The rest of the season will bring,
And no one's so sick of this weather as me--
How I long for the coming of spring!

--Autumn Acres (1982)

Sunday, April 1, 2012


From dust we have our beginning,
To dust we all shall return;
But in between there's a moment
When all of us live and learn.

All do not remain equal,
For we learn at a different rate;
Some will turn it to profit,
For others, it comes too late.

Experience teaches us all,
But slowly, and it appears
There's no other way to get it,
But through the passing of years.

It doesn't indicate wisdom
Because there's gray in your hair,
But everybody learns something
While Nature is putting it there.

I worked out many a problem
By stumbling through somehow,
When it would have been so easy,
Knowing what I know now.

No question at all about it,
A good many years ago,
I flubbed a legion of ventures
Because I just didn't know.

I'm sure I could have done better
In a hundred different ways,
If I'd been a little bit older
Back in my younger days!

--Acres of Verse (1994)