Category Archives: bright fuzzy sweater


The painter did his best,

But when it came to her chest…

The breasts painted

She wasn’t acquainted

With as well as the rest!

Her “mashed potato” style,

Were painted in push-up bra style…

Pointy and small

Not like her at all,

It caused her fiance smiles.

–Jonathan Caswell


People we miss and love,

Missing or taken above…

Oh how we miss

Their joy or hiss,

Their gentle comments or rough!

Among them is Esther Ling,

She was in the lesbian thing…

Opposite were we

But she was a Mommy,

Ran to her when figuratively I needed mothering!

Numerous friends I had in school,

Have slipped or drove away (I’m the fool)…

Some I drove away

Or ignored to this day,

Elementary through college kept only two

Bloggers–many follow some not–

Never sure of how many give you thought…

Over a thousand mine

To whom I give little time,

Just a handful  of their blogs I’ve sought!

Surrounded by my family we are,

Been slow to contact any (my par)…

Younger ones I don’t know

As familiar ones go,

What can I do, having delayed thus far?

Does any of this make sense,

Is loss of your friends as immense…

I’m sure it is–

Friends we miss,

We remember  our friends in the past tense!

–Jonathan Caswell


The Poet could be shot,

Will be, likely as not…

Suggesting bras

Have their flaws,

For the well-endowed are healthy and hot!

Those “bouncing” videos

Combined with torn muscle throes…

Unless contained

Could cause real pain,

Suff’ring of which somebody knows.

Foreigners complain that we,

Over-emphasize  effacey…

Of the bra

For every flaw,

It shapes “them” daintily.

“Lift and separate”…*

Room to breathe is great,


But look at the “bless”,

With others you comiserate!

–Jonathan Caswell

*A motto of PLAYTEX bras, if I remember!


Vicariously feeling heat,

Of poetic lovers retreat…

Wanting to plunge

In mutual lunge,

Realizing there’s no honey to eat.

Left standing  all alone,

These visions are not your own…

Kissing mid-air

A lover not there,

Embarrassed when bystanders groan!

Stiffening love has power,

But time to take a REAL cold shower…

Her poetry


Has brought the experience to flower.



Have no other gods before Him,

Not even by innocent whim…

It’s suicidal

To worship an idol,

Walking on ice very thin.

So periodically

He must sort his files to see…

What grabs his heart–

With that he must part,

‘Tis better than hypocrisy!

Culling out accumulations

Of any conflagrations,,,

That hold him fast

He will cast,

Out for sanctification.

–Jonathan Caswell


A tartan pencil skirt,

Is any out there alert…

Nice to see


I remember a teacher so girt.

While strict, she had her charm,

Frequent knits to stay warm…

Knee-length hems

I considered gems,

A high-pitched voice when in alarm!

For a Junior High School boy,

Her outfits were sources of joy…

Modest, severe,

But oh what a year,

With some imagination…oh boy!

–Jonathan Caswell


(Read 2nd Corinthians 7: 11)

An Adult Subject Poem

A Christian feels sad,

Realizing more than a tad…

He’d gone overboard

Behaving untoward,

Mourning ’cause he’d been had!

In his personal sin

He’d let the enemy sneak in…

In certain ways

Our minds play,

Corrupting the soul within.

Certain things lure fantasy,

Enticing our own fancy…

Pictures and prose

Hooks one’s nose,

And mind in a trance, tragically!

Avoiding it all is best,

But if  Evil builds a nest…

The penalty for sin

Christ did in,

Repent now and enter His rest!

–Jonathan Caswell


People have more than one side,

Who knows what lurks inside…

Snap judgments

Make no sense,

Yours could be worse than their pride!

Outward appearances are

How some hitch to a star…


Handsome and pretty,

Most often chosen to spar.

‘Scuse man’s fascinatiuon

With features inspiring a nation…

baby bottles rule,

forget baby drool,

There’s ample documentation!

Having something to do with our lack,

You are welcome to smile back…

We can’t change

Or have minds rearranged,

We’d lose the joy of living==that’s a fact!

Some guys really are pricks,

Whose thoughts come on notepads and lips…

Spoiling it

For all men, to whit–

Prompting hostility up ticks.

–Jonathan Caswell


Have you had your number

Broadcast across the sky…

And you’re nailed to the wall

At every attempted try?

Being nailed to the wall

Is comforting I guess…

Knowing just where you stand

When trying foolishness!

Another two friends of mine

Are different but alike…

Each knows where my game starts

And when my ball to spike.

A part of me feels more secure–

The other wears a frown–

He really doesn’t like it when

His fun is shut right down!

–Jonathan  Caswell

(This poem is dedicated to Sheryl and Laurie, Robin and Holly and innumerable others!)



I would have come on my own,

But she said to bring the wife…

Can’t get away with “nothing”

But that’s how I prefer my life.

Even joking is dangerous

For what, in an instant, he’ll do…

Reminded of certain realities.

Makes his heart remain true.

What’s in a fertile imagination

I’m told in a man is okay….

But when he strikes out for “freedom”

He mustn’t slip away!

He loves his wife, but excitement

Of another woman looks fun…

Sometimes a loving reminder

Confirms you’re the only one!

He may not like his dreams dashed,

By the targets of his urge….

But he needs to face it–

Betrayal is not a loving word!

–Jonathan Caswell