Category Archives: CONNECTING

STRANGER THINGS…

Stranger outcomes happen,

When opportunity’s tapping,

Wanting in

And you begin

Writing ideas you’re trapping!

He’s written ’bout Christ and trains–

Weather seems worth one’s pains….

Fashion poems are new

As something to do,

And the challenge takes working brains!

I’d say it is channeling energy,

Most of which has left me….

Shapes and sizes

And stylish surmises,

Still need a bard’s entrée.

“An eye for the women.” one said,

Focusing on their clothes instead..

“Clothes make the man”

And women, and can

Leave little more to be said!

YET–a poet describes,

Details that emanate vibes…

Along a track

That likes feedback,

Both positive and wise!

–Jonathan Caswell

 

 

 

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WHAT SAYS “NEW ENGLAND” ?

My model layout wanders it seems

Away from cherished themes…

What for you

Says “New England” too,

Beyond operational schemes?

 Does NISSEN BREAD,

MOXIE, barns red,

SPAGS and stores

With “colonial” decors,

Monuments to Revolutionary dead?

Dairies and granite quarries

In earlier days held stories…

Ice cream and views

Along the Turnpike count too,

And whaling ship stories!

Broad “a’s” in speech,

A Kennedy’s reach…

Where Plymouth Rock stays

And Sturbridge Village ways

Are preserved to history teach!

So for my small train set,

What industries are best…

Beverages and rock salt

Metals, food stuffs sought,

And historic touristy nests?

Gravel still travels by train,

Lumber and minerals same…

Environmental ire

Has dampened coal fired

Power plants, but garbage still flames!

A water-powered mill

And museum of trains fit the bill…

For small excursions

Of rich incursions into filling the local till!

Do you think I’ll have enough room,

I figure some things will die soon…

New England gives

And takes to live,

But survival cannot be assumed!

–Jonathan Caswell

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.

CRITTER CALLS!

Not quite like peepers at night,

Railroad critters have their own light…

G.E.’s tend to whine

On their owner’s dime,

With short cuts of cars they fight!

The twenty-five tonner “dinky”

Exhaust tends toward stinky…

Smoke in the eyes

Is no surprise,

At times blue smoke turns inky!

When old, oft put on display,

Costs more to scrap anyway…

Does its job

With no hobnob,

From the big trains’ right of way!

–Jonathan Caswell

POET…AFTER (A) FASHION!

He calls himself “fashion poet”,

One or two others know it…

In pursuits

Avoiding lawsuits,

He certainly doesn’t want to blow it!

Him being man and all,

Must carefully judge his call…

With less passion

Than stereotypical fashion,

Not being the Beast at the ball.

Gender matters to him,

Especially if women…

They’re the kind

He most has in mind,

Do they mind if he tiptoes in?

–Jonathan Caswell

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

TRAPPIST FOODS

When J. J. NISSEN folded,

My image of a bakery molded…

Its replacement too big

So I had to dig,

To see what research “beholded”.

My past is in two places–

It one ever traces–

The lines of “me”

Diligently

For personal data chases!

Massachusetts, New York State,

My two major windows of fate…

Born here

But raised over there,

Memories in both are great.

One of my faves was Monks Bread,

A Trappist Monastery did…

And still does

The bread funds their cause,

Producing jams, jellies, plus all kinds of bread!

A model flat against the wall,

Leaves hardly space at all…

Have to use what I have

Of plastic walls saved,

Modeling a bakery et. al.

So I thought of TRAPPIST FOODS,

A catch-all title to use…

Producing bread

And conserves, I said,

Switching different train cars is a ball!

Specifically, flour and fruit,

Corn syrup and sugar to boot…

Isn’t enough?

They brand other stuff,

The question of a brewery—moot.

MONKS BREAD  from Western New York,

From that Trappist Abbey of course…

A college friend

Heading toward that end,

Found a wife and went in another!

–Jonathan Caswell