Category Archives: can’t find it

CHURCH ATTENDANCE–A HYPOTHETICAL POEM

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….

Comparison

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

 

 

 

 

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JUSTIFYING MY “0-6-2”

An N scale “2-6-2”,

The lead set of wheels he blew…

Pictured once

An engine thus,

Converted to an “0-6-2.”

Most steam engines of this type,

In foreign fields are ripe…

In the U.S.

Mostly tank engines are left,

Them with tenders as hard to find as snipe!

Some may have come from Birmingham,

Alabama, a modified plan…

No evidence there—

Or up in the air—

The Internet doesn’t do well with “rare”.

He thinks Indiana coal fields,

Was where a real engine congealed…

Now he cannot find

The photo in mind,

Not finding a prototype, his mind reels!

Worse yet, he’s lost his model,

Was it sold or just took a toddle…

Somewhere below

All the other stuff so,

His research continues in high throttle!

–Jonathan Caswell

Google Image of a live steam model of a European designed 0-6-2 + tender,

produced by ROUNDHOUSE, makers of small scale live steam models.

DID IT TO HIMSELF—GOOD!

It’s not like he knew he would,

Do it to himself good…

Just that

In a matter of fact,

It’s what he understood.

Knowing his temperament,

He wasn’t quite innocent…

Boundaries

Made safely,

Less chance she’d fear the gent.

He’s saddened by the whole thing,

Knowing his own being…

Trying to place

Her in his space,

One-sided deal not working.

With vigor abated,

It’s easier to stay related…

To his one friend–

His Missus again–

No other targets anticipated!

–J.E.C.

A TOAST TO FRIENDS PRESENT AND MISSING…AT CHRISTMAS TIME!

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

VICARIOUS COLD SHOWER

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

Powerfully

Has brought the experience to flower.

–J.E.C.

HE LOVES ODDBALL TRAINS!

When buying trains for his collection,

He aimed in certain directions…

He took great pains

Finding oddball trains,

Delighting him in their inspection!

A little like him they are,

Interesting shapes and parts…

Characters like him

Respond to whim,

An oddball becomes his star!

The ALCO RSD-four or five,

Worked good for heavy-hauling drive…

Six wheels each truck

Earned more than good luck,

They kept tonnage going, climb or dive!

This particular unit he doesn’t have,

There ARE LIMITS to what one can grab…

But pictures show

Why that railroad would go,

With an oddball–extra traction, rails to grab!

That high-looking “stick” so grand,

Is an extra-high fill for traction sand…

Blown on the rails,

Better traction it avails,

One of the reasons they survived in Iron Ore land!

–Jonathan Caswell

MOTION DETECTORS!

Sleeping in an office cubicle,

And not saying  I did…

Motion sensors keep the lights on–

The sleeper is never hid!

Now is it from restless legs,

Moving so lights don’t dim down…

Or is it when waking up

Movement brings the lights on?

Suffice to say the sleeper

Never quite could decide…

Enough that nobody caught him

The few hours he had to abide!

–J.E.C.