Category Archives: A-B-C-B scheme


Recently our Lobby

Went into overdrive…

All sorts of decorations

On which our mem’ries thrive;

Pictures packaged up like gifts

Hanging all around,

Piped-in music from ceiling

Speakers’ Christmas sound!



Like scary tribal masks

to make bad spirits run…

This Jordan spreader

Tries to look like one!

As much to entertain folk

Who past by it in summer…

Who wonder what that thing is,

Does it run–if not, that’s a bummer!

A wedge plow I know has been

Fitted with a painted shark’s grin…

The museum that

Has it may chat,

But it’s snow plowing days will end!



He felt in himself the dying flames

Coming out of his sin morass…

Readily feeling pain of renewal

Knowing “this too will pass.”

Like a phoenix flaring up

Plunged into cold and annealed…

He must go through the process sure

To find his prospects healed.

Burned by self-lust,

  Warming unto his soul…

Yet corrupting

Punching in him a hole.

Cleaning out Readers a part

Of reclaiming one’s heart….

Unto righteousness

From emptiness,

That deadly a la cart!

–Jonathan Caswell


Early morning drive through

Arches green and gold…

Sunlight streaming branches  onto

Spattered asphalt road.

Zebra stripes of light and dark

Along a country way…

Glowing colors show themselves

Softened in array.

Evergreens counterpoint

Changing color trees…

Driving along  bejeweled lanes

Putting one at ease!

–Jonathan Caswell


Black-Eyed Susans form a carpet

Where giants may want to fall…

Thee neighbor’s in her bikini

And we want to picture it all!

We promise we won’t molest her,

Just take a good picture and run…

She can’t really catch us in flip-flops

We’ve got a few more pictures to run!

If boyfriends want some copies

It’s going to take some cash…

We’d give her a free one

But they need a lesson in mass!



Flying away from the sunset’s

Pink and purple,  light blue…

Hurtling into  darkness,

Thinking of what he must do.

Toward eventual sunrise,

Determined to save a soul…

When in rush hour traffic

To exit he finds…a hole!

Gathering darkness swirls,

He sees the tail lights beyond…

Reaching his destination

The quiet woods surround!

–Jonathan Caswell


Someone nice to talk with

Who knows (she does!) the  score…

Being sympathetic

Not thinking this a chore;

Someone nice to look at

Who is stern when she must…

Someone who knows  a little more–

This woman a fellow can trust!

It’s somehow comforting

Being reminded of certain things…

She knows he’s bright–

There is no slight–

Just practical caring on wings!

–Jonathan Caswell

Poem dedicated to “Joanne”.


Covering for Zia my friend

I had a pleasant surprise…

Heard the sound of a familiar voice

Looking into Sabina’s eyes.

The sister of Ziggy P,

She’d been away a long while…

Was helping her brother out with his work

Rejoicing to view her smile.

We updated each other,

I gave her some poetry..

We watched the same Christian network

And the same preachers on TV.

Her daughter is older and walking,

I told her news of my wife…

We spent a little more time talking

Then each got on with their life.

We’ll see each other now and again,

When she comes to fill in…

I’ll always have a smile to give

Seeing this long-time friend!

–Jonathan Caswell



 Getting  pricker bush scratch,es

Mounting mulch mountains when dark…

Rapping at windows with cane  heads,

None of these things for a lark!

Stubbornly waited till midnight

Forgetfulness rectified…

Could have happened in daylight

without adventure supplied!

Choosing  no delay

When first it was realized…

Made the man pay

With no benefit if a moon rise!

–Jonathan Caswell


Rolling past in spectral clouds

Mist comes rolling in…

Forming curtained funeral shrouds

We see little then!

Hush on empty city streets,

Eerie streetlight glow…

Monsters will not come tonight–

The mist will surely know.

Up from wetland meadows,

And streams hidden by concrete…

Moist air hits colder pockets

And  mist formation’s complete.

Romantic thoughts of eerie beings

Visiting virgins rare…

Put that up to engaging books

And strolls in misty night air!

–Jonathan Caswell