Category Archives: a dark and stormy night


The sight we fans did not want to see–

The orange and black/yellow scheme…

Has shown up in Worcester, Mass.,

This tide is coming in.

Chocolate brown and red

Lettering in white…

Eventually will be swept away

But not yet overnight!

Orange and black I do not hate–

It’s one of my favorite roads…

Born way out in New York State,

Hauling salt mine loads!

–Jonathan Caswell




Spaghetti hits the fan,

Whatever goes wrong–can…

Letting things slide

Like suicide,

Leaves very little planned.

Brought it all on his head,

The wife’s got her own head…

Why try

Tired of the strive,

He wants to go back to bed.

Blames himself he’s isolated,

No confidant located…

But those for hire–

Credit’s expired–

In fewer discussions he’s participated!

Why anyone would stay,

He wants to hide away…

Have to muddle through–

Make an attempt to–

Would anyone pray?

–Jonathan Caswell



Roads are skating rinks,

The wife of safety thinks…

Stay home from church

And encourage,

Me in similar stakes!

So staying up to write,

At least part of this night…


Will soon have won,

I’ll give up and  turn out my light!

(By the number of TYPOS, that may be soon!!!)

–Jonathan Caswell






He rarely attends now,

It’s gone and got diff’rent somehow…

He feels pushed aside

Not welcomed inside,

No one’s been direct with him, anyhow!

They used to go faithfully,

Found the spirit there strong and free…

The Pastor moved on

And a preacher took on

Things with his own personality.

With his circle of friends,

For our subject, being close to a pastor ends…

You know his pride

Didn’t like “outside”

But he wanted to attend.

Then he and his wife

Both saw ill health in life….


With others is sin,

And churned up internal strife!

The preacher/teacher and he,

(Too much alike?) weren’t happy…

It shifted into

“An authority over you”

Which wasn’t as healthy!

Various dissatisfactions

Led to complaints and  feigned actions….

Poor communication

Led to frustration,

In mutual distraction.

So now he stays at home

Sundays, with his wife alone…

No need to go

Taken for granted so,

But he’s stuck–this was his church home.

Socially depended on her,

His wife, for communication stirred…

When she took ill

He didn’t have the will,

To see that his opening up occurred.

He’s given his life for her,

Literally as it were…

Goes it alone

Reaching out he’s done,

Elsewhere–little left at “home”.

Options to go elsewhere?

Feels bound by his wife–so there!

Decision paralyzed–

Easier to survive

By himself, ‘though few benefits to share!

A “hypothetical poem”–which means it is just a poem….!

–Jonathan Caswell






We took what I thought worth taking,

A soup of my own making…

Boiled cabbage and ham

But no thank you Ma’am,

Just me and the wife were taking.

Competition was rather strong,

Lasagna and casserole gone…

What little we ate

I’d consolidate

And use for suppers till gone!

I had someone’s lemon meringue,

Almost too sweet–no tang–

Along with ice cream

(And lasagna again!),

Enough food for the whole gang!

My wife left her pink NORTH  CREEK hat,

I’m rescuing stuff like that…

Everyone knows

Keeping track of clothes

Is anything but old hat!

–Jonathan Caswell



He’s not a weather wimp,

But has a leg somewhat gimp…

Wet and cold

Makes him feel old,

More wrinkled than a chimp!


A FLASH—then rumbling thunder—

What a mess to be under…

Taken in stride

We all can be dried,

Enjoying this storm as a wonder!


With weather all over like this,

We note peoples’ special kindness…

Willingly give

That others  live,

Angels in times of distress!


“Darkness over the waters,”

Standard Time—hear the mutters—

Walk toward Light

To see what’s right,

Believe and see what matters!




I don’t think he meant to,

Shove his blood sugar down through…

The danger zone

Way, way down,

Down where life might be through!

Discovered his mistake then,

Tried packing food in…

Chicken, roast beef,

Glucose tabs for relief,

And test all over again!

How much—oid he take (?)—

Too much for his sake…

“DR 500”

And he wondered,

If he sleeps, will he ever awake?

His insulin pen had jammed part way,

Drawing out with a syringe to save…


Still within,

Not usually an idiot this way…!

–Jonathan Caswell