3 line poems Twins Prove We Aren’t miracles A sharp knife Scraped bees Off the bee keepers neck Eight young Christians Were immersed To wash away a decade of sin Silver rimmed glasses Hide grey eyes And mirth Tattoos Say, “Stay the hell away” Golfers complain About their misery And book another game Not thinking, The hunter slapped A full tick on his neck When you complain Of a head wound No one presses you for proof Barbed vines Deliver scratches To berry pickers Three line poems Are a challenge To you and me

John Casey October 1997

The original page will appear here.

A Christmas Nightmare

Once upon a midnight

Dreary As I pondered weak and Weary Suddenly there came a knocking at my Door Who could it be forever More? I flung open the door and what did I See A sight so dreadful it frightened Me There on my door Step Stood Dick Gerber and I almost Wept I stammered, I stuttered, my face turned Red Thadn’t seen Dick lately, I thought he was Dead In his hand he held a Note “Publish this” he said as a Quote I snatched the paper out of his Hand And closed the door with a loud Slam That image, that scene won’t go Away I see it again almost every Day The story was remarkable, actually Humble It didn’t remind me of our past Rumble The notes said nice things about BobVan Doren Then went on about Terry & Carl, not exactly a Scorn It had sweet words about quick Mary Ruth

I swear that’s the honest Truth

Bring on heat and sweat, I'll find shade

Minutes before the sun rises, the air is cool and gentle The sun sets suddenly, when it is half way down

A midnight moon is a treat for my eyes, I stare

A warm steady rain cleans the air, and wets the earth

Clouds are perfectly spaced, but not when a storm is coming,

Invisible wind rustles the leaves displaying its strength

Trees creak and bend, animals and birds clutch bark, and pray

1/29/18

Bring on heat and sweat, I'l find shade

Minutes before the sun rises, the air is cool and gentle The sun sets suddenly, when it is half way down

A midnight moon is a treat for my eyes, I stare

A warm steady rain cleans the air, and wets the earth

Clouds are perfectly spaced, but not when a storm is coming,

Invisible wind rustles the leaves displaying its strength

Trees creak and bend, animals and birds clutch bark, and pray

1/29/18

A fan of cold, I’m not

Bring on heat and sweat, I'll find shade

Minutes before the sun rises, the air is cool and gentle The sun sets suddenly, when it is half way down

A midnight moon is a treat for my eyes, J stare

A warm steady rain cleans the air, and wets the earth

Clouds are perfectly spaced, but not when a storm is coming,

Invisible wind rustles the leaves displaying its strength

Trees creak and bend, animals and birds clutch bark, and pray

1/29/18

Mom's pretty coffee cup slipped from my soapy fingers,

Grazed the pull handle to the silverware drawer

And shattered when it hit the linoleum floor.

Slivers of white glass with bits of rose colored tints were scattered about

~Anchenlythe-slenderhandte of the Cup was recognizable ex

My sister, Edie, yelled out, “mom, you better come in here Johnny’s busted your best cup.” Dishwashing stopped,

ett

I stood on a small wooden box; -Leaned-overthe-kitcher-eounter— ok And put dishes and-sitverwaré'into

and out of the large aluminum dishpan. Hot soapy water and extra hot rinse water Got the dishes sparkling clean.

I wanted to blame Edie,

But the clean slippery cup was passed to her

By my even slipperiér hands. Sh phe, The fall did not break the cup,

But the landing sure did. Smash!

When my mom reached the kitchen,

I was looking over my shoulder,

And my eyes were burning and bursting with tears.

“Look what he did,” Edie said, pointing to the broken cup.

—“Fnrsorry,“Thturted. alt

Mom bent down, picked up the handle of the cup And said, “You two will have to help me clean it up.” Both Edie and I went into action with a broom

And soon the broken glass was swept away.

Mom looked at me and Edie and said,

Edie, you finish washing, Johnny, you dry.”

She added, “It was only a piece of glass.”

And when my hands cradle a cup I will remember

That mom said wonderfully, “it was only a piece of glass.”

A PIECE OF GLASS

I was standing on a wooden box

Leaning over the kitchen counter

Washing dishes and cups in hot soapy water

In the large aluminum dishpan

Before handing them to my sis, Edie, to rinse and dry

Mom?’s pretty coffee cup slipped from my soapy fingers, And fell to the kitchen floor The fall did not break the cup, but the landing sure did. Slivers of white glass, some with colored tints, were scattered about, And only the slender handle of the cup was recognizable

My sister, Edie, yelled out, “Mom, you better come in here, Johnny busted your best cup.” When my mom reached the kitchen,

I looked over my shoulder to see her.

My eyes were burning and bursting with tears.

Mom bent down, picked up the handle of the cup

And said, “You two will have to help me clean it up.”

Both Edie and I went into action with a broom and dustpan, And soon the broken glass was swept away.

Mom looked at me and Edie and said, “Edie, you finish washing, Johnny, you dry.” She added, “It was only a piece of glass.”

Now when my hands

Cradle a cup I remember What mom said wonderfully; “It was only a piece of glass.”

John Casey

After years of grim determination ve hitched another ride P’'m gonna win another ring It feels so good inside

| may be doomed to be an also ran An unlucky sort of guy But I’m sticking to my guns And will give it another try

My motto is to keep it simple Lay it out for me – so | can not go astray Cause to me it’s all personal … know no other way

If |was standing even When the final contest came And crossed the finish line I'd like to be remembered, only by my name

A Ring

After years of grim determination I’ve hitched another ride I’m gonna win another ring It feels so good inside

I may be doomed to be an also ran An unlucky sort of guy But I’m sticking to my guns And will give it another try

My motto is to keep it simple Lay it out for me – so I can not go astray Cause to me it’s all personal …I know no other way

If I was standing even When the final contest came And crossed the finish line I'd like to be remembered, only by my name

A Ring

After years of grim determination ve hitched another ride Pm gonna win another ring It feels so good inside

I may be doomed to be an also ran An unlucky sort of guy But I’m sticking to my guns And will give it another try

My motto is to keep it simple Lay it out for me – so | can not go astray Cause to me it’s all personal …| know no other way

If | was standing even When the final contest came And crossed the finish line I'd like to be remembered, only by my name

A ROCK A rock Was once jagged and sharp Made by the pressure that cracked it When it was uncovered In the earth

The rain that fell on it The wind that blew on it The fire that charred it Made it smooth

The rock became smaller And thinner And lighter But it was still a rock

The once jagged rock Is now Almost soft To the touch And very old

Someday it will be A pebble A grain Dust Gone john casey 04/12/04

A Wish To live with small means But with refinement And a bit of elegance

To study hard Think quietly Talk gently, and act frankly

To listen to birds, animals And babes, and folks Cheerfully

To bravely await And let my spirit grow And give thanks for my existence

AROCK A rock worn smooth Was once jagged and sharp When it was uncovered

Very young In the earth.

The rain that fell on it,

The wind that blew on it, The fire that charred it,

The pressure that cracked it, Helped make it smooth.

The rock became smaller And smoother

And thinner,

And lighter,

But it remained a rock.

The once jagged rock Is now smooth

And almost soft

To the touch,

And very old.

Someday it will be Apebble, Agrain, Dust. Gone. john casey 04/12/04

A Birthday Wish

To live with small means, But with refinement,

And a bit of elegance.

To study hard, Think quietly, Talk gently, and act frankly.

To listen to birds, And babes, and folks, Cheerfully.

To bravely await, And let my spirit And my unconscious grow.

You ask how old I am. I may be 92,

But I will not admit

To being more than 20.

I might be 50

Or only seven.

You may not want to know how old Iam, But I will tell you anyway-

Iwas born the day I met you.

KROCK

Was once jagged and sharp When it was uncovered Very young

In the earth.

The rain that fell on it,

The wind that blew on it, The fire that charred it,

The pressure that cracked it, Helped make it smooth.

The rock became smaller And smoother

And thinner,

And lighter,

But it remained a rock.

The rock that was jagged Is now smooth

And almost soft

To the touch,

And very old.

Someday it will be A pebble, Agrain, Dust. Gone. john casey 04/12/04

AROCK

A.rock worn smooth

Was once jagged and sharp When it was uncovered Very young

In the earth.

The rain that fell on it,

The wind that blew on it, The fire that charred it,

The pressure that cracked it, Helped make it smooth.

The rock became smaller And smoother

And thinner,

And lighter,

But it remained a rock.

The rock that was jagged Is now smooth

And almost soft

To the touch,

And very old.

Someday it will be Apebble, Agrain, Dust. Gone. john casey 04/12/04

AROCK A rock worn smooth Was once jagged and sharp When it was uncovered

Very young In the earth.

The rain that fell on it,

The wind that blew on it, The fire that charred it,

The pressure that cracked it, Helped make it smooth.

The rock became smaller And smoother

And thinner,

And lighter,

But it remained a rock.

The once jagged rock Is now smooth

And almost soft

To the touch,

And very old.

Someday it will be A pebble, Agrain, Dust. Gone. john casey 04/12/04

A Birthday Wish

To live with small means, But with refinement,

And a bit of elegance.

To study hard, Think quietly, Talk gently, and act frankly.

To listen to birds, And babes, and folks, Cheerfully.

To bravely await, And let my spirit And my unconscious grow.

You ask how old I am. Imay be 92,

But I will not admit

To being more than 20.

I might be 50

Or only seven.

You may not want to know how old Iam, But I will tell you anyway-

Iwas born the day I met you.

A ROCK A rock Was once jagged and sharp Made by the pressure that cracked it When it was uncovered In the earth

The rain that fell on it The wind that blew on it The fire that charred it Made it smooth

The rock became smaller And thinner And lighter But it was still a rock

The once jagged rock Is now Almost soft To the touch And very old

Someday it will be A pebble A grain Dust

Gone john casey 04/12/04

A Wish To live with small means But with refinement And a bit of elegance

To study hard Think quietly Talk gently, and act frankly

To listen to birds, animals And babes, and folks Cheerfully

To bravely await And let my spirit grow And give thanks for my existence

A Toast Be assured that they Come from my heart.

I can not explain, I’ve no keen wisdom to impart. But I honored, so, though my words May be plain, I’ll start.

I don’t like to boast But my standards are really quite high, And though you may think you’re lacking You’re certainly worthy of this toast.

To sum up your good points Could be quite a chore There’s so many that it’s hard to say And I’ll leave most of them for another day.

You might be au-jus off of A dog kennel floor

Or a nit in a wino’s toupee

But you’re a winner to me

Regardless, I love ya You’re definitely my kinda girl And if you’re not hoping for too much Perhaps you will give me a whirl.

A valentine Toast Be assured that they Come from my heart I’ve no keen wisdom to impart So, my words May be plain, I’ll start To sum up your good points When there’s so many that it’s hard to say Some will be left for another day You’re certainly worthy of this toast Your standards are really quite high You have a right to boast I love ya you’re my kinda girl Here’s hoping you will give me a whirl “j”

There’s little time to stop and talk Or ponder getting older You just push along for a while And then you shrug your shoulders

I notice from the obit column That the crowd is getting thinner I’ve got no urge to follow ‘em I'd rather go to dinner

| like to spend time with folks I love and that | have been missing Where | can tell the things | know And likewise, sit and listen

Time has worn my edges smooth It’s sort of like erosion But it keeps me out of useless fights And out of constant motion

I can still get my dander up And I still tell my stories But you won’t find me wishing | could re-live long gone glories

There’s little time to stop and talk Or ponder getting older You just push along for a while And then you shrug your shoulders

| notice from the obit column That the crowd is getting thinner ’ve got no urge to follow ‘em I'd rather go to dinner

l like to spend time with folks | love and that | have been missing Where | can tell the things | know And likewise, sit and listen

Time has worn my edges smooth It’s sort of like erosion But it keeps me out of useless fights And out of constant motion

I can still get my dander up And | still tell my stories

But you won't find me wishing

| could re-live long gone glories

Aging

There’s little time to stop and talk Or ponder getting older You just push along for a while And then you shrug your shoulders

I notice from the obit column That the crowd is getting thinner I’ve got no urge to follow ‘em I’d rather go to dinner

I like to spend time with folks I love and that I have been missing Where I can tell the things I know And likewise, sit and listen

Time has worn my edges smooth It’s sort of like erosion But it keeps me out of useless fights And out of constant motion

I can still get my dander up And I still tell my stories But you won’t find me wishing I could re-live long gone glories

Aging

There’s little time to stop and talk Or ponder getting older You just push along for a while And then you shrug your shoulders

I notice from the obit column That the crowd is getting thinner I’ve got no urge to follow ‘em I’d rather go to dinner

I like to spend time with folks I love and that I have been missing Where I can tell the things I know And likewise, sit and listen

Time has worn my edges smooth It’s sort of like erosion But it keeps me out of useless fights And out of constant motion

I can still get my dander up And I still tell my stories But you won’t find me wishing I could re-live long gone glories

Aging

There’s little time to stop and talk Or ponder getting older You just push along for a while And then you shrug your shoulders

I notice from the obit column That the crowd is getting thinner I’ve got no urge to follow ‘em I'd rather go to dinner

| like to spend time with folks I love and that | have been missing Where I can tell the things | know And likewise, sit and listen

Time has worn my edges smooth It’s sort of like erosion But it keeps me out of useless fights And out of constant motion

I can still get my dander up And | still tell my stories But you won’t find me wishing I could re-live long gone glories

Aging

As we age we have plateaus like,

AND A HALF – like 4 72 GONNA BE – 16 when you’re 13 BECOME – 21 —- Wow!

TURN 30 – uh-oh I’m not young anymore PUSHING 40 – I’m getting worried REACH 50 – half way MAKE 60 – I still feel good HIT 70 – made it this far Then at 80 – you HIT lunch; TURN 4:30; REACH bedtime. Then at 90 – You’re JUST 90!

At 100-100 %…100 %…

Throw out numbers, keep cheerful friends, Keep learning, enjoy simple things; cherish your health and tell people you love, that you love them.

%? AQUARIOUS CHILD

I could give you A love note on a rock And you would skip it And say, “another one Rocky.”

When your Andy-Over ball Gets caught in the gutter You play Hop Scotch And Sheep-In-My-Pen.

You are happiest in a jump suit, And secretly wish for a watering can For your African violets And wonder how they got here.

Fluffy is the name of your cat, Dog, favorite person, and sweater. You practice the art of karate, Oompf, harara, swoosh, ugg / oh.

A wig is a rug. A pull is a tug. You love tutti-frutti “Aw Rudy.”

You think 7-UP Is when your feet should hit the floor. And Upper Ten Refers to your digits

“This is the truth,” starts all stories. Odd things happen to you On the average of once a day or more.

You notice close encounters Of the first, second, third and sixty-six kind. Odd is normal. Normal is odd.

At home, in a space capsule, On a Ferris Wheel or 4-wheeler You are like the Mad-Hatter Through the hula-hoops of life.

You are as dingbatty, Brilliant, genius oriented And patty-cake as they come. Now you get the picture.

You believe in TCB And you mind your own business And fully expect others To mind theirs, “thank you very much.”

You are forever looking skyward, To the rear, To the sides, But you never look down.

You are called “brilliant

And an inventive genius, The last hope for the human race, And the leader of the new age.”

Never mind all that. I call you nitzo, Cuckoo, as unpredictable As a comic valentine to Quasimodo.

You have one foot in Heaven, One on Earth. Your head is in the clouds, And your ears are fastened the wrong way.

You have probably lost your contact lenses In the ice-cube tray of the refrigerator. “is there something unusual about that? Why are you complaining?”

You say, “Ail the world is queer, Save for me and thee… I answer, “And sometimes thou art a little freaked…” You answer, “Thanks buddy, for helping me out, I'm so forgetful.”

Do you really believe the waterless toilet Might actually save the planet? It could bring back rich fertile soil, And you have had considerable in-the-field experience.

The only thing predictable about you, Whatever your age, weight, social security number and previous references, is that you're totally unpredictable.

That is a glorious miracle. Your potential for seeing rainbows And leprechauns Are a bell-ringing reality.

john casey 10/04/2001

Please forgive me for having so much fun writing This little ditty about you. It is how I think. You are a delight to be around.

Thanks. je

‘> AQUARTOUS CHILD

I could give you A love note on a rock And you would skip it And say, “another one Rocky.”

When your Andy-Over ball Gets caught in the gutter You play Hop Scotch And Sheep-In-Ay-Pen.

You are happiest in a jump suit, And secretly wish for a watering can For your African violets And wonder how they got here.

Fluffy is the name of your cat, Dag, favorite person, and sweater. Yeu practice the art of karate, Oompf, harara, swoosh, ugg / oh.

A wig is a rug. A pull is a tug. You love tutti-frutti “Aw Rudy.”

You think 7-UP Is when your feet should hit the floor. And Upper Ten Refers to your digits

“This is the truth,” starts all stories. Odd things happen to you On the average of once a day or more.

I’m not saying you won’t get fatter And Bacon might make you squeal But, what the heck does it matter

if you like Bacon You’re real!!

Stay CRISPY EVERYONE! John Casey jreasey134@gmail.com

Be your own hero

Belong to today Be aware, simply be Feel that “I am” Is enough to sustain you

When you laugh — When you shrug — You lose the need to take yourself seriously

When you laugh — When you shrug — You know others are the ones who count

The gifts in your life are always around you When you find your center You find peace and inner awareness

Admire your traits — Imagination, creativeness, Intuition, emotions Expressiveness and physical body

“The Now” is the disappearance of time No past, or future —- a mindful state Some moments are meant just for you

John Casey 9/12/06 132

BEE. STING THE OLD WITCH WHO SHOULD BE STUNG BY A BEE? THE WITCH!

Witches what's up?

BEE. STING THE OLD WITCH

WHO SHOULD BE STUNG BY A BEE? THE WITCH!

Witches what’s up? BEE, sting the witch

I do so love beginnings, When all is possible. a The siren sounds of the change Draw me onwards And I listen to the tales Of ones who have gone before me.

Though I may long For the quiet comforts of home, I know that my place is here, Out in the wold, And that I cross these empty Wastes even in dreams,

My dear friends will never understand How I feel.

They quiz me about where I have been

And what I have done, And where I shall journey to next; We talk of such things And they stay at home, Thinking me uncannily odd for my boldness.

To keep them in my thoughts, I open my cards and presents As soon as I board the airship, And promise they will always be with me As I begin my journey once again. It’s going to be beautiful.

I will continue my journey toward My goals and I shall emerge A different person from the one Who set out, full of hope. I feel a change come over me And know that I gain in strength As my shortcomings are revealed.

At times this frightens me, And I wonder if anyone else Will notice the difference. Will my family and friends Realize that their dear sweet child Is sweet no longer?

© Gartner Studios

Beginnings

I do so love beginnings, When all is possible. The siren sounds of the change Draw me onwards – And I listen to the tales Of ones who have gone before me.

Though T may long For the quiet comforts of home, I know that my place is here, Out in the wold, . And that I cross these empty Wastes even in dreams.

My dear friends will never understand How I feel. They quiz me about where I have been And what I have done, And where I shall journey to next; We talk of such things And they stay at home,

‘To keep them in my thoughts, T open my cards and presents As soon as I board the airship, And promise they will always be with me As I begin. my journey once again. It’s going to be beautiful.

I will continue my journey toward My goals and I shall emerge A different person from the one Who set out, full of hope. J feel a change come over me Aud know that I gain in strength As my shortcomings are revealed.

At times this frightens me, ~ And I wonder if anyone else Will notice the difference. Will my family and friends Realize that their dear sweet child Is sweet no longer?

Thinking me uncannily odd for my boldness. :

© Gartner Studios

The original page will appear here.

Boots, he said, was a particular

Friend A relationship he wanted to Mend He kindly mentioned Barbie, Moe, Cecil and Danny If I’m lying you can kick my Fanny The note was gracious and very Kind When reading it I thought I’d lost my Mind The note had a faint Smell Like a new box of Titlists or Bridgetones, I couldn’t Tell A smiley face was attached to his Moose dues Check I got red right down to my Neck He said he regretted he had to Pee In the parking lot when his thing-a-ma-jig was easy to See He welcomed the chance to meet with the Board He said he was confident that they could strike up a Chord He said he’d soon be back in his favorite Perch And he apologized for being such a Jerk I felt compelled to reopen the door, but I was still in Fright

Then I heard him exclaim, “Ho Ho, – Merry Christmas to all and to all a good Night”

Breaking up Breaking up is not hard if you bit an iceberg going full speed.

It took two bours and forty minutes for the Gitanic to sink after it bit an iceberg.

Ghe acts of courage, compassion, empathy, kindness, affection, love, unselfishness and cowardice made in afew minutes will not be forgotten.

Breaking up Breaking up is not hard if you hit an iceberg going full speed. It took two hours and forty minutes for the Titanic to sink after it hit an iceberg. The acts of courage, compassion, empathy, kindness, affection, love, unselfishness and cowardice made in a few minutes will not be forgotten.

BUDS & PALS

THEY ARE BUDS, PLAIN & SIMPLE. FIND ONE AND THERE YOU'LL SEE THE OTHER OF THE PAIR BEING WHERE THEY WANT TO BE.

Stork and Mike, both jokesters, Or Mike and Al, both quipsters. They're birds of a feather whereever they go. They're heckle and jeckle & amigos.

Gerry and Wally, smartly and wise guy, Or Terry and Tom, clever, crafty, and sharp. Gadflies and barflies — each one of a kind, not phonies. They're an inseparable pair, they're cronies.

Randy and Bill, side kick and buddy, Or Scott and Matt, rea! pals and chums. They're singers or players — you name the game. They’re quipsters and nipsters — they think the same.

Gene and Bob, flip & snip, sauce & sass, Or Bill & Jack, comedian and comrad. When one leads the other follows, they are a pair. Their ploy is tom foolery, confusing, to set a snare.

Lon and DeeWayne, brash and bold, Or Dave & John, associate and friend – a brace. They turn everyday things into a pun, And they do it with wit and by poking fun.

They teeter and totter, Wobble and weave, Limp and shuffle, Shilly and shally.

Butterfly wings

A glimpse of ugly me Would show a tortured soul Looking to hide like the February mole.

Then, feebly, shaking off soft dirt, To emerge from the tunneled path To a new awakening and flying away On butterfly wings.

I Thought There Was Time

I thought there was time To tell you how unselfish you were, To say | love you endlessly.

You listened to me Unselfishly.

You smiled and laughed with me Unselfishly.

You gave me needed hugs Unselfishly.

The strength | learned

Because of you and because you loved me Was unselfish and enough

For me to live with pride and strength.

When | lay quietly at night

| thought of long nights ahead, Alone.

Why not me, not you

Who would go away?

| tried not to cry. | cried.

| tried not to tremble. | trembled.

| thought there was time

For you, for me, for us,

But there’s not time today, Today you’ve gone somewhere.

CASEY AT THE BAT -SUNDAY JUNE 3, 1888 – SAN FRANSCIO EXAMINER, PAGE 4-Wheeler The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day; The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play. And when Cooney died at first and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that – We’d put up even money now with Casey at the Bat. But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake; So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to bat. But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third. Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It knocked upon the mountains and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Casey at the bat. Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip. And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped – “That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.

From the bleachers, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore. “Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one in the stand; And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand. With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult: he bade the game go on. He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheriod flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.” “Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud; But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again. The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow. Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville – mighty Casey has struck out. – Phin This was the pin name of Earnest L. Thayer, 24, from Massachusetts who was a one-poem poet. The first performance/reading was at Wallack’s Theater, NY, NY in June 1888, by DeWolf Hopper, a comic opera star who quoted the poem for four decades, perhaps 5,000 times or more. In America, perhaps only THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS and THE RAVEN have been quoted more.

From the bleachers, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore. “Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one in the stand;

And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult: he bade the game go on.

He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheriod flew; But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud; But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.

And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,

And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Mudville – mighty Casey has struck out.

– Phin

This was the pin name of Earnest L. Thayer, 24, from Massachusetts who was a one-poem poet. The first performance/reading was at Wallack’s Theater, NY, NY in June 1888, by DeWolf Hopper, a comic opera star who quoted the poem for four decades, perhaps 5,000

times or more. In America, perhaps only THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS and THE RAVEN have been quoted more.

(S:) When I see a colorful door I think of the talented air brush Artist, Kevin

I see the gifted Scott playing

Frisbee with his brothers

In the back yard

On Christmas Eve, I am reminded

Of baby Kent, the future turkey hunter That God loaned to all of us.

Memories come to mind

easily when you love someone

It takes only a minute. Mom Gail

Jre 12/2011

& Ke Seti SS, Bpwilek J fomg Stay = a, yp § 9p

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Dang! It isn’t funny — it’s the truth

The syndrome is a rare disorder, it’s not a fake You feel it with every short putt you take.

It’s a sensation, you feel possessed,

And you know that you’re obsessed.

Dang!

The cause, a small white ball, very quiet On green, green grass where it was smite With a small opening for the ball to fall Just mere inches from the ball

Dang!

Your hand is wayward and disobeys

At times both hands don’t do what you say, And your stroke is like yow’re poking

You can’t help it you’re just choking. Dang!

To hide the pain you drink a beer

But it can hardly hide your tear.

But perhaps symptoms can be eased a bit By wearing an oven mitt.

Dang!

Sometimes the disorder goes away But it will come back again some day, After weeks or even years.

And when it does, it brings your tears. Dang!

john casey 8/18/08

For the wife she used to ramble through me pooches When I was fast asleep aneath the quilts; In the morning when I woke I was always stoney broke. That’s the reason noo I wear a kilt Harry Louder, Scottish Singer — 1906

Iam always embarrassed to receive a compliment — I always feel they have not said enough. Mark Twain

We learn geology after the earthquake. Emerson — 1860

There was a young man from Quebec,

Who was buried in snow to his neck;

When they asked, “Is you Friz?”

He replied, “Yes I iz,

But we don’t call this cold in Quebec.

I recon being ill as one of the great pleasures of life, provided one is not too ill.

We can always make ourselves liked, provided we are likeable.

The last defeat in golf taught me a lesson, but I’m not sure what it is.

Don’t Take Two Much Scarum Away I herd you taught lidl wons Into bein shpe shape.

You likely taught gron upz A tric or mor. Clevr.

Sum one said you carf the turkey And sum how wond up With thre drumstix And half a wesh bon.

I knou your into bukskn, Beeds and inden trnkets And lik to go barfoot, And make turtle sup.

Yur xiting and the Ski is a blu as yur eyes. I admit I pench my self It keps the inurds churning and bublin.

Yor powerful to Be around! Cors that al blamd on gin to. Servs me rit.

I have to kwit now.

Luv ya Fren john

Endings

As the year ebbs away There a lot of us who

‘Want to start something Rather than face our endings

Maybe you're like me Or don’t want to admit That we just don’t love

Endings

Remember just a few months or Maybe it was only days ago When we had such promise

Of great endings

The reflections of events Are flashing before us And tell us

Of endings

To recall what is gone And will never reappear Means that we think

Of endings

It will take our energy To start anew

And forget

Endings

Let’s have our last goodbye It was nice seeing you

But I’ve got to go

So long

12/09

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Friends

It's simple to be friends with friends Who are funny Tell jokes you have heard before Crack up at mispronounced words Share embarrassing stories Dress strangely Pretend to know everything Pull pranks Love their families Belch, snore and fart Spill drinks Stumble and almost fall Repeat themselves Repeat themselves Have long, short or no hair Eat with their fangers Cuss without being vulgar Keeps an eye out for one another Makes room for you Loves dogs Wears caps indoors Hugs their friends Like surprises Are tolerant of your faults Are understanding and compassionate Shares something of value with you Their time And Puts up with the likes of me

Johnrichardcasey

It's funny how simple it is to be friends with friends Who are funny Tell jokes you have heard before Crack up at mispronounced words Share embarrassing stories Dress strangely Pretend to know everything Pull pranks

Love their families Belch, snore and fart Spill drinks Stumble and almost fall Repeat themselves Ee Repeat themselves Have long, short or no hair Eat with their fangers a Love old TV shows and the movies Cuss without being vulgar Keeps an eye out for one another Makes room for you Loves dogs Loves pork 77x ve = Wears‘caps indoors Hug their friends Like surprises Are tolerant of your faults Are understanding and compassionate

Shares something of value with you —

e Fe & g of sas Their time And Puts up with the likes of me

Thanks for being funny Johnrichardcasey 10/30/10

Joty 155 me Alto

Going Home

Wild strawberries are out, Sweet and tasting of the sun. As Alice wanders away, Picking them one by one.

Alice is reading from a book

By a man who was carried across the ocean In the belly of a great ship,

As a slave.

Alice is eating the field berries

So fast that pink juice bubbles down her chin. She freezes, because something is moving

In the high grass.

Gliding smoothly and soundlessly, It makes the grass ripple.

Alice stays very still,

Though her heart is thumping.

The thing in the grass is coming toward her

In zigzag, serpentine motions.

Maybe she had better run.

Then the head rises up revealing an old woman’s face.

Alice’s face breaks into sunshine.

With a wild riff of laughter mingled with hissing, She sets her fists in front of her chin

And jabs at the face, suggesting the fangs of a snake.

Alice is brimming with questions.

She wants to know how her Aunt Harriet Learned to creep like a snake

Near the roads where others walked.

Haarriet Tubman could still will her body To act in unusual ways,

Shifting beyond expected forms, Vanishing and reappearing.

The scene evokes the ancestral ways

Of the dream hunters of West Africa

Helping this gifted dreamer as she guided scores, possibly hundreds, of escaping slaves to freedom.

“To be a snake in the long grass, A leopard in the forest,

A bird in the sky,

Means you are going home, child.”

for Harriet Tubman (1822-1913) Alice Lucas Bricker, raised as Harriet’s great niece.

It is said that Harriet was a dreamer and a seer. In her dreams and visions,

She could fly like a bird over landscapes she had never seen with her physical eyes. She was able to find the right roads and the rivers and fords and the safe houses to get escaping slaves out. Her gift surely owed something to her African heritage.

GRANDMAS: WHAT A GREAT IDEA

Grandmas are one of the worlds Most wonderful inventions They don’t really have much to do Just be there They go to the store with their grandkids And always seem to have coins For the pretend horse and tootsie roll When they go for walks, they seem To slowdown at things like Pretty leaves and caterpillars They usually wear glasses and sometimes Can take their teeth out And show them to their grandkids Grandmas don’t have to be smart They only need to be able to answer Questions like why dogs hate cats And how does the Easter Bunny lays colored eggs When grandmas read to grandkids They don’t skip pages And they don’t mind if they read The same story over and over again Everybody should try to have a grandma If you have one, call her today and Tell her how special she is

J Casey 1/23/07 (revised numerous times)

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Handwnitten letters

Those visits to the mailboa

Were sheer joy when you

Found a handunitten envelope from Smeone who loved you.

You carefully read your name And maweled at it again Because it came from Somone whe loved you.

The envelope was blue, grey, and often white,

and the ink was Black or blue, maybe red.

But a pencil worked too, because you knew it was from Someone who loved you.

You could see the hands

That urote the letter and addressed the envelope.

Those hands you had held v0 tender in yours, belonged to Someone whe loved you.

The words took only moments to read

But they lasted far longer than that,

Because they came to just you — handunitten from Someone wha loved you.

Jolin Casey 7-12-04

Handunitten letters

Those visits to the mailbox

Were sheer joy when you

Found a handunitten envelope from Smeone whe loved you.

You carefully vead your name And maweled at it again Because it came from Somone whe loved you.

The envelope was blue, grey, and often white,

and the ink was black on Blue, maybe ved.

But a pencil worked too, because you knew it was from Someone who. laued you.

You could see the hands

That wrote the lettor and adduessed the envelope.

Those hands you iad held se tender in yours, belanged to Someone who. loved you.

The words took only momento to read

But they lasted far longer than that,

Because they came to. juct you — handunitten from Someone who laved you.

John Casey. 7-12-04

Handwritten letters

Those visits to the mailbox Were sheer joy when you Found a handwritten envelope from Smeone who loved you.

You carefully read your name And marveled at it again Because it came from Somone who loved you.

The envelope was blue, grey, and often white, and the ink was black or blue, maybe red. But a pencil worked too, because you knew it was from Someone who loved you.

You could see the hands That wrote the letter and addressed the envelope. Those hands you had held so tenderly in yours, belonged to Someone who loved you.

The words took only moments to read But they lasted far longer than that, Because they came to just you – handwritten from Someone who loved you.

John Casey 7-12-04

You know the 12 steps That addicts talk about. Scrap them; just do this:

Everything will really pass, Even if you never find the formula It will get better.

So, hang in there.

Your tomorrows will be better Than your today, And you will be able to dream again. Hang in there.

I wish you much peace. I wish you happiness. My personal prayers are with you. So, hang in there.

jre 1/8/09

HANG IN THERE

You know the 12 steps That addicts talk about. Scrap them; just do this:

Hang in there.

Everything will really pass, Even if you never find the formula It will get better.

So, hang in there.

Your tomorrows will be better Than your today, And you will be able to dream again. Hang in there.

Don’t worry about your life, what you will eat, Or about your body. Life is more than food And the body more than clothing. Hang in there.

I wish you much peace. I wish you happiness. My personal prayers are with you. So, hang in there.

jre 1/8/09

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Hanging The Moon

I didn’t take time to see the moon rise Over the river last night. I’d gone out, but the clouds were hiding it. I didn’t wait.

I quick stepped back to the house And promised to watch the moon Make the leaves glitter tomorrow night. Gonna be full, I thought As I walked into the house.

I’ve so enjoyed watching the moon Hang itself in the sky.

It’s been a scene so timeless.

It has been watched by the ancients, Moses even, Monet, Crazy Horse, Roosevelt and even Elvis.

But not me last night.

(jre-10-27-07)

Happy Days

Shan's graduation from a recovery program in St. Louis. 2003. Shan's birth, February 1, 1973. My first unassisted bicycle ride Finding a present under a pillow put there by the tooth fairy Catching fire flies in a glass jar in the summer Watching my dad shave Eating a piece of mom's angel food cake Pitching a no-hitter in a baseball game My first, second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth hole-in-one Skating backwards on roller skates and dancing with my partner A magical first kiss Driving fast cars Doing stand-up comedy in front of an audience who came to see me Taking a nap in the woods amid a plethora of blue bells Getting word that my first story would be published in a magazine A ride in a hot air balloon Winning a chili cook off contest Fishing, hunting, canoeing, running, climbing, swimming, Happiness is a style of life for me. I live happy. It is always a goal

Noon train The noontime train will bring Frank Miller If I'm a man I must be brave And I must face that deadly killer Or lie a coward, a craven coward, Or lie a coward in my grave.

Oh, to be torn 'tween love and duty S'posin' I lose my fair-haired beauty Look at that big hand move along Nearin' High Noon.

He made a vow while in state's prison Vowed it would be my life or his'n I'm not afraid of death, but oh, What will I do if you leave me? Do not forsake me, oh my darlin' You made that promise when we wed. Do not forsake me, oh my darlin' Although you're grieving, I can't be leaving Until I shoot Frank Miller dead. Wait along — wait along —

[margins, film notes:] 1952 / Gary Cooper / Grace Kelly / Sheriff Will Kane / the gang waiting at the depot for the noon train / Frank Miller and his gang / the outlaw.

How can a plane fly With wings that don't move?

When T flick a switch lights go on. IT push a button and change TV channels, But I don't know how it does that.

T can go up or down in an elevator By pressing a numbered button, And it will stop miraculous without Pushing another button. How?

I can buy gas, groceries or a shirt Without money. My car will go at any speed I choose Without my foot on the pedal. How does it know?

My car horn honks and my doors lock When I push a button ona little box. And lights go on in the car and Presto, it's unlocked. How?

I understand rocks are hard, And water runs down hill, And I think I understand wind, But don't know where it comes from

I'm OK with growing things Like onions, beans, and tomatoes But I'm not sure why they are White, green, or red, or purple, white or green.

T know that zippers work like cockle burrs And why clothes make me warm, But a phone call can startle me And a clear voice can be heard from anywhere.

T vaguely know how binoculars work, But soapsuds befuddle me. And the water in the bowl runs Clockwise here, but counter clockwise in Europe. Do you know why?

HOW _ DOES IT WORK?

How can a plane fly With wings that don't move?

When I flick a switch lights go on. T push a button and change TV channels, But IT don't know how it does that.

T can go up or down in an elevator By pressing a numbered button, And it will stop miraculous without Pushing another button. How?

T can buy gas, groceries or a shirt Without money. My car will go at any speed I choose Without my foot on the pedal. How does it know?

My car horn honks and my doors lock When I push a button ona little box. And lights go on in the car and Presto, it's unlocked. How?

I understand rocks are hard, And water runs down hill, And I think I understand wind, But don't know where it comes from

T'm OK with growing things Like onions, beans, and tomatoes But I'm not sure why they are White, green, or red, or purple, white or green.

I know that zippers work like cockle burrs And why clothes make me warm, But a phone call can startle me And a clear voice can be heard from anywhere.

TI vaguely know how binoculars work, But soapsuds befuddle me. And the water in the bowl runs Clockwise here, but counter clockwise in Europe. Do you know why?

This morning a tiny hummingbird flew up to one of my just filled feeders hanging from my porch ceiling. It came over to me like it was on a string with wings a blur as it went up and down and back and forth less than an arms length away. Then the tiny bird flew to a small branch on a nearby tree a few feet away. I picked up the feeder with my thumb and forefinger and waited holding it very still.

The bird came back. Right In front of my eyes it hovered and hummed; its curved beak dipping into the feeder and drinking the sugar water making a tiny bubble rise. When the avaricious marvel finished, it turned and looked me over from a mere foot or so. I shaded my eyes with my hand in case it was enticed by the red in my eyes.

One of the birds that visit is a bully; it’s noticeably bigger, about the size of a large grape. When it is around and other hummers approach the feeders the bully bird whizzes at them at just less than mach speed. I hear the agitated cries of both birds during the aerial combat. At high speed they do barrel rolls and somersaults as they buzz by posts, potted plants and the feeders and bump chests with intent to prove their might. It is a delightfully entertaining show.

Tiny humming birds Fly only an arms length away When they visit a feeder Hanging from my porch ceiling

They come over as if on a string whizzing up and down And back and forth Before flying away

With a feeder in my hand I wait for the birds To fly close And look me over

The size of a large grape The hummers fly just less than mach speed In an aerial combat with any interloper Infringing at the coveted feeder

Their wings moving in a figure 8 The tiny visitors provide me With wonder and pleasure In the bright light of summer

j. casey 2007

Hummingbirds. I wrote this in small font just in case.

This morning a tiny hummingbird came up to the just filled one-bird clear plastic feeder hanging from my porch ceiling. He/she came over to me like it was on a string and its wings were a blur as it went up and down — back and forth less than an arms length – really, my elbow was bent. When the tiny bird flew (flying may not really portray the way a hummingbird gets from place to place) off for the tiny branch on the nearest tree barely 15 feet away I took the feeder in my left hand unclipped it from its holder and held it between the thumb and forefinger of my left hand. I waited. I was still. The bird came back, or maybe its twin. There in front of me was the neatest bird with its needle like curved beak dipping into the feeder drinking the just mixed sugar water (four parts water, one part sugar) making a tiny little bubble come to the top of the water. Again, the avaricious critter looked me over from a mere foot or so. I shaded my eyes with my right hand just a bit in case the humming humming bird mistook the blood in the veins of my eyes and enticed it to try a macabre touch. Tomorrow I will wear glasses in case it gets real real close. Maybe the bird will see a reflection of itself just before it buzzes off. I also might use a red thread or ribbon tied to my finger hoping one will decide to perch on a finger. Wouldn’t that be cool?

I’m sure one of the birds is a bully, it’s noticeably bigger — still about the size of a grape – and has a green streak from its head to its tail. Although I do not believe a hummingbird is shy anymore some do approach the porch and feeders at less than mach speed and when this bully bird whizzes at them I seem to detect some sort of cussing or exclaiming before the flight of the birds continues. Seeing aerial combat, of sorts, is neat but their speed defies seeing if they do barrel rolls or somersaults as they buzz by posts, potted plants and the feeders. I’ll not name them as it would require me to talk to them or perhaps purse my lips and try to make humming bird sounds, which I probably can’t.

Ihave noticed more birds lately and can recognize favorite perches in several trees. Also, my feeders require more sugar water each day. Using organic sugar without a hint of red has attracted them as much as the special humming bird mixture with all its nutrients. Yes, I do change the water and rinse the feeders regularly.

Hopefully the birds that visit my porch also have a place they go to for insect protein or what ever they eat. They look healthy and I can recognize them better. I'll forgo a book to read that tells me everything about a humming bird and depend on my tiny visitors to provide me with wonder and pleasure. However, I am told that when it gets colder to wean them away from the feeder less they get caught in a cold snap and not be able to fly away to a warmer climate. Old wives tale to me and I’m absolutely confident that when a humming bird needs to fly away it will do so with or without daily sugar water.

—/ LF %7

This morning a tiny hummingbird came up to the just filled one-bird clear plastic feeder hanging from my porch ceiling. He/she came over to me like it was on a string and its wings were a blur as it went up and down — back and forth less than an arms length — really, my elbow was bent. When the tiny bird flew (flying may not really portray the way a hummingbird gets from place to place) off for the tiny branch on the nearest tree barely 15 feet away I took the feeder in my left hand unclipped it from its holder and held it between the thumb and forefinger of my left hand. I waited. I was still. The bird came back, or maybe its twin. There in front of me was the neatest bird with its needle like curved beak dipping into the feeder drinking the just mixed sugar water (four parts water, one part sugar) making a tiny little bubble come to the top of the water. Again, the avaricious critter looked me over from a mere foot or so. I shaded my eyes with my right hand just a bit in case the humming humming bird mistook the blood in the veins of my eyes and enticed it to try a macabre touch. Tomorrow I will wear glasses in case it gets real real close. Maybe the bird will see a reflection of itself just before it buzzes off. I also might use a red thread or ribbon tied to my finger hoping one will decide to perch on a finger. Wouldn’t that be cool?

I’m sure one of the birds is a bully, it’s noticeably bigger — still about the size of a grape – and has a green streak from its head to its tail. Although I do not believe a hummingbird is shy anymore some do approach the porch and feeders at less than mach speed and when this bully bird whizzes at them I seem to detect some sort of cussing or exclaiming before the flight of the birds continues. Seeing aerial combat, of sorts, is neat but their speed defies seeing if they do barrel rolls or somersaults as they buzz by posts, potted plants and the feeders. I'll not name them as it would require me to talk to them or perhaps purse my lips and try to make humming bird sounds, which I probably can’t.

T have noticed more birds lately and can recognize favorite perches in several trees. Also, my feeders require more sugar water each day. Using organic sugar without a hint of red has attracted them as much as the special humming bird mixture with all its nutrients. Yes, I do change the water and rinse the feeders regularly.

Hopefully the birds that visit my porch also have a place they go to for insect protein or what ever they eat. They look healthy and I can recognize them better. I'll forgo a book to read that tells me everything about a humming bird and depend on my tiny visitors to provide me with wonder and pleasure. However, I am told that when it gets colder to wean them away from the feeder less they get caught ina cold snap and not be able to fly away to a warmer climate. Old wives tale to me and I’m absolutely confident that when a humming bird needs to fly away it will do so with or without daily sugar water.

I am jealous of cotton or the fabrics that drape and hug you. I tune in to your voice. It soothes. I catch myself watching you and must pull my eyes away. Your carriage carries a message. Your fragrances are magnets. High powered. I see your pride, but also your protectiveness. You recognized someone as trying to put me down and you rallied to my defense and assured me. I feel almost shy with you. I am quiet and comfortable and not a swashbuckler. I am aware of talking too much, but I don’t want to be too cautious or too anxious. Or too smug and prim. Or too silent.

I like you in your clothes and I like your clothes. I like your voice, and the words you say.

I like your looks and how you look.

know the value of silence and I keep secrets as Scorpios can.

Hanging The Moon

I didn’t take time to see the moon rise over the river last night. I’d gone out, but the clouds were hiding it. I didn’t wait.

I quick stepped back to the house and promised to watch the moon make the leaves glitter tomorrow night. Gonna be full, I thought as I walked into the house.

I’ve so enjoyed watching the moon hang itself in the sky. It’s been a scene so timeless. It has been watched by the ancients, Moses even, Monet, Crazy Horse, Roosevelt, and even Elvis.

But not me this time.

John 10/27/07

© Gartner Studios

rattle before I hide behind a poplar tree across the street and watch her come to the door, part the lace curtains, and look out.

My older sister, Edie, told us “the war had ended”. Some evenings I heard dad and mom talk softly about “THE WAR.” Dad listened to news on the radio every night and I heard mom pray quietly.

I knew that somewhere, Americans were fighting Japanese and German soldiers with machine guns and flamethrowers, but I did not know what a machine gun or a flamethrower was. I had a dream of German soldiers coming to our house and tying dad and mom up. I saw them from the top of the stairs and ran back to my room and told my brothers that Germans were downstairs. I woke up in a sweat and was glad to see my mom and dad that morning. I never told them about my dream.

I saw men in uniform in the windows of train cars that passed through town. I heard that a neighbor had lost his right arm when a grenade exploded when he was attempting to throw it. I knew that Neil, Sylvia’s son, was in the Navy. When he came home to visit his family, I saw him in his very white uniform. His white hat had a curved brim all the way around it. I knew Mr. McHugh, another neighbor, was in the Army. My Uncles, George, Ben, William, and Ernest were in the Army too; George & Ernest were in France, Ben was in Germany, and William was near Japan. Where is Europe or Germany? Where is Japan? What is war? Why were we fighting?

The ending of the war made mom and dad and all the grownups in Tunnel Hill, deliriously happy on August 15th, 1945. We kids were happy too. We yelled “hooray for America.”

840 word count John Casey (Date written:11-11-05) 435 2 Bluff St. Alton, IL 62002

I hope I live forever and you live forever and one day. I wouldn’t want to live A single day without you.

I wonder where my keys are

I wonder where I put my glasses

I wonder when a package will come

I wonder if scissors are plural or singular

I wonder if the milk in my fridge is sour

Where did I leave my coffer cup? I wonder.

I wonder where the matching sock is

I wonder when I should use to, or too, or two when writing. I wonder if I should wash clothes in cool, warm, or hot water

Because, because, because… because of the wonderful person you are. I wonder how you put up with me.

John the wonder man

I live in a place of wonder!

I wonder where my keys are

I wonder where I put my glasses

I wonder when a package will come

I wonder if scissors are plural or singular

I wonder if the milk in my fridge is sour

Where did I leave my coffer cup? I wonder.

I wonder where the matching sock is

I wonder when I should use to, or too, or two when writing. I wonder if I should wash clothes in cool, warm, or hot water

Because, because, because… because of the wonderful person you are. I wonder how you put up with me.

John the wonder man

I live in a place of wonder!

I wonder where my keys are

I wonder where I put my glasses

I wonder when a package will come

I wonder if scissors are plural or singular

I wonder if the milk in my fridge is sour

Where did I leave my coffer cup? I wonder.

I wonder where the matching sock is

I wonder when I should use to, or too, or two when writing.

I wonder if I should wash clothes in cool, warm, or hot water

Because, because, because… because of the wonderful person you are. I wonder how you put up with me.

I live in a place of wonder! I wonder where my keys are I wonder where I put my glasses I wonder when a package will come I wonder if scissors are plural or singular I wonder if the milk in my fridge is sour Where did I leave my coffer cup? I wonder. I wonder where the matching sock is I wonder when I should use to, or too, or two when writing. I wonder if I should wash clothes in cool, warm, or hot water Because, because, because… because of the wonderful person you are. I wonder how you put up with me.

I LOVE YOU MORE THAN RAINBOWS

T’'m going to think about You, Me, the sun, moon and stars And that I love you more than rainbows

T’m not going to think about Chocolate, Cheese cake with raspberries, Or buttered popcorn

T’m not going to think about Elephants, ‘Whooping cranes, And tiny rabbits

T’m not going to think about Friends, Family, And laughter

T’m not going to think about Doing the laundry, Troning my clothes,

And shining my shoes

T’m not going to think about Taking a drive, Riding my bike,

Or going for a walk

T’m not going to think about Raking the yard, Preparing the garden, Or organizing my tools

T’m not going to think about Being an American, Being alive and well And I’m certainly not going to think about playing golf. Not me. je-

I REMEMBER

Seeing you and holding you when you came To be On February 1, 1973. My, how tiny, and how big you were to me.

Bleu, the Siamese, liked you, But only after my stern talk with her. Later Koko and Cubby gave you Room and knew you were special.

Sherry was your baby sitter, How well I remember that, And Daisy was the pretty Springer pup That frolicked with your gang.

We gardened with Gene Austin And the Big Wheels turned the dirt hard And shiny, and kept on turning.

We visited the Train of 76 Beneath the Arch Along the banks of the Mississippi With Allen Moore and his son, Jon.

Your room was a mess As I remember, And your cars zoomed around everywhere.

Now you read books, Cook tofu, Dress in fashion, have neat shoes, And don't wash your hair.

You hated black, But it was really Paul. You fought prejudice then And you still do.

You lost a tooth That took the tooth fairy Three nights to find.

I REMEMBER

Seeing you and holding you when you came To be On February 1, 1973. My, how tiny, and how big you were to me.

Bleu, the Siamese, liked you, But only after my stern talk with her. Later Koko and Cubby gave you Room and knew you were special.

Sherry was your baby sitter, How well I remember that, And Daisy was the pretty Springer pup That frolicked with your gang.

We gardened with Gene Austin And the Big Wheels turned the dirt hard And shiny, and kept on turning.

We visited the Train of 76 Beneath the Arch Along the banks of the Mississippi With Allen Moore and his son, Jon.

Your room was a mess As I remember, And your cars zoomed around everywhere.

Now you read books, Cook tofu, Dress in fashion, have neat shoes, And don't wash your hair.

You hated black, But it was really Paul. You fought prejudice then And you still do.

You lost a tooth That took the tooth fairy Three nights to find.

fl, — po | , 1 Thought There Was Time ep 7 i, se f

| thought there was time

To tell you how unselfish you were, Cc 4 To say | love you endlessly.

But there’s not time today

You listened to me Unselfishly.

You smiled and laughed with me Unselfishly.

You gave me needed hugs

Unselfishly. nea Henri) 4-800-637-4636 The strength | learned Vey Coed cage wae Because of you and because you loved me pee”) Was unselfish and enough 7 hh For me to live with pride and strength. thre ,

When | lay quietly at night

| thought of long nights ahead, Alone.

Why not me, not you

Who would go away?

You left me with strength And courage to continue. | will, and you will Always be with me.

| tried not to cry. | cried.

| tried not to tremble. | trembled.

| thought there was time

For you, for me, for us,

But there's not time today, Today you've gone somewhere.

The original page will appear here.

| Thought There Was Time

| thought there was time

To tell you how unselfish you were, To say | love you endlessly.

But there’s not time today

You listened to me Unselfishly.

You smiled and laughed with me Unselfishly.

You gave me needed hugs Unselfishly.

The strength | learned

Because of you and because you loved me Was unselfish and enough

For me to live with pride and strength.

When | lay quietly at night

| thought of long nights ahead, Alone.

Why not me, not you

Who would go away?

You left me with strength And courage to continue. | will, and you will Always be with me.

| tried not to cry. | cried.

| tried not to tremble. | trembled.

| thought there was time

For you, for me, for us,

But there’s not time today, Today you've gone somewhere.

I will be your friend There are so many reasons why I should Your sensitivity, your laughter

I can cry when I am sad And you will show me your tender side Do not wonder, I will be your friend

I will be your friend There are so many reasons why I should Your kind and generous nature

You are unassuming, and confident You are playful and childlike You love and need to be loved

You question your purpose in life And always strive to be a better person For these traits I admire and respect you

You may wonder if a time will come When no one Knows your name or concerns themselves with you

I will, for Iam your friend

I will be your friend

I will be your friend There are so many reasons why I should Your sensitivity, your laughter

I can cry when I am sad And you will show me your tender side Do not wonder, I will be your friend

I will be your friend There are so many reasons why I should Your kind and generous nature

You are unassuming, and confident You are playful and childlike You love and need to be loved

You question your purpose in life And always strive to be a better person For these traits I admire and respect you

You may wonder if a time will come When no one Knows your name or concerns themselves with you

I will, for Iam your friend

I will be your friend

I will be your friend There are so many reasons why I should Your sensitivity, your laughter

I can cry when I am sad And you will show me your tender side Do not wonder, I will be your friend

I will be your friend There are so many reasons why I should Your kind and generous nature

You are unassuming, and confident You are playful and childlike You love and need to be loved

You question your purpose in life And always strive to be a better person For these traits I admire and respect you You may wonder if a time will come When no one Knows your name or concerns themselves with you

I will, for Iam your friend

2001

I will look at things differently

If I only speak about the past I will go backwards Ihave a hunger for more than usual

I must set my focus and protect my time

Put my thoughts in writing. Question them: why shouldn’t it work? What do I need to do? Engage in focused thinking

Action is more valuable than good intentions

Do what is right as soon as I can

Be bold and courageous

Have fun, make it a priority

Take time to plan

Start with the end in mind, be a finisher

Be willing to make changes

Aim high and take risks Don’t quit after a victory, keep the forward momentum going

People are my path to success

I will qualify people before I let them in

I will distance myself from those who are negative

People will flourish according to my level of praise of them Do not fear criticism. Whoever criticizes others to me, will criticize me to others Talk about what people want

Respect people’s freedom

Learn something from someone who knows more than I do Give people the benefit of the doubt

Listen before I answer. Give gentle answers

I don’t have to be right all the time

Don’t be too proud to apologize

My pain is trying to tell me I have to deal with something out of order

Take time to rest and guard my energy

Don’t waste time with critics or fault finders

Refuse to be discouraged when misjudged

Don’t become bitter

Refuse to be manipulated, or intimidated by the unreasonable expectations of others What others think of me is none of my business

If I want something I have never had, I am gong to have to do something I’ve never done

The original page will appear here.

IF YOU’RE HAPPY UM HAPPY

IF YOURE HABPY "M HAPPY

IF YOU’RE HAPPY I’M HAPPY IF YOU’RE HAPPY I’M HAPPY

Those who knew and loved Ivanka will grieve her death and thank of her goodness. We love, and we lose the ones we love. Her family and friends will miss her and will always be proud and thankful for her life.

IT’S COMING

When winter comes

Tll deal with it

Pll get chilled And have to bundle up

I’ve made it through 81 years

They were never easy And now I face another

John Casey

jrc134@gmail.com 618-670-5646

IT’S COMING When winter comes I’ll deal with it I’ll get chilled And have to bundle up I’ve made it through 81 years They were never easy And now I face another John Casey jrc134@gmail.com 618-670-5646

IT’S COMING

When winter comes

Tll deal with it

Pll get chilled And have to bundle up

I’ve made it through 81 years

They were never easy And now I face another

John Casey

jrc134@gmail.com 618-670-5646

IT’S COMING When winter comes I’ll deal with it I’ll get chilled And have to bundle up I’ve made it through 81 years They were never easy And now I face another John Casey jrc134@gmail.com 618-670-5646

It’s Going To Rain Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay A moldy corn crib And leather harnesses On nails on a stall brace Is comforting When rain hits the tin roof And makes puddles In the hard uneven ground By the barn When the rain quits I’ll be looking for rainbows john casey 2004

Just a Minute There

When I see a young girl

With red hair and freckles

An image of Mary Ellen and mom Comes to my mind

A flock of gees overhead With their voices and cries Brings a vision of Terry Wayne

A rail road box car with a door open Reminds me of a excited Liz With her dark hair flying.

I see myself playing Andy-Over With friends at the old school house In Tunnel Hill

Whenever I see a jig-saw puzzle, Especially when it is not finished, Edith Marie appears

A plane, especially a military one And I can see Wil, erect and well Dressed

It is easy for me to see Jim With eight squirrel hanging from his belt Emerging from a darkening woods

When I see a high and inside pitched Baseball, I remember George throwing A cork ball past me

A shirt dark and wet with sweat And I can see dad with hand plowing In his garden

An angel food cake with fresh Mushrooms And Mom appears

Just the two of you Are beautiful, Smart, a little neurotic, And so easy to love! It’s celebration time, come on – let’s celebrate the good times.

I want to fall in love with you again today. Because very day is fresh and new, that's why I will fall in love with you

And as the sun starts the day I want to earn your love again I want to fall in love with you today

When the day begins to wane I want you to know that i have fallen in love with you again today.

When I fall in love today it will be forever. It's the day that I will fall in love with you again.

I will tell you that I love you each and every day. And every day is when I will fall in love with you again.

Yesterday is over and tomorrow isn't here Today is when I want to fall in love with you again.

And only if tomorrow comes will I really ever know that I have fallen in love with you again.

Will you let me fall in love with you today?

will you tell or show me that you love me too? Because yesterday is over, and tomorrow is a promise We can only fall in love again today.

Let's Fall In Love Again Today

I want to fall in love with you again today. Because very day is fresh and new, that's why I will fall in love with you

And as the sun starts the day I want to earn your love again I want to fall in love with you today

When the day begins to wane I want you to know that i have fallen in love with you again today.

When I fall in love today it will be forever. It's the day that I will fall in love with you again.

I will tell you that I love you each and every day. And every day is when I will fall in love with you again.

Yesterday is over and tomorrow isn't here Today is when I want to fall in love with you again.

And only if tomorrow comes will I really ever know that I have fallen in love with you again.

Will you let me fall in love with you today?

Will you tell or show me that you love me too?

Because yesterday is over, and tomorrow is a promise . We can only fall in love again today.

ih es oe Bitsy Bones to Knaw

We were hungry little boys, Phil, Danny, Arnold and myself. We were also over two miles from our homes in Tunnel Hill, IL. We were exploring Sugar Creek, a north / south tributary that was just east of town. It was a pretty little creek that meandered through pastures and wooded lots, around bends and tumbled down smooth rock ledges. There was an occasional deep pool, all named, that provided shelter for small fish, frogs, water skippers and snakes.

The creek was a virtual haven for everything small boys liked to do in the spring and summer. We waded in the clear stream and tried to catch minnows and frogs. We dammed narrow places in the creek and built small pools. We could even swim in some of the larger pools. We made leaf boats and put ants or bugs in them and sailed them down stream. We made small wooden boats out of cheese boxes and powered them with rubber bands for a paddle wheel effect. We skipped rocks, threw at water skippers, stirred up mud to see the color of the water change, dug clay from rocks into the creek. We enjoyed the creek.

‘e had our nigger flippers *with us at all times and some of us were pretty good shots: good enough to hit a bird now and then or a frog on a bank. Notches on our righerfipper stalks were made on kills just like the notches on gunstocks of the Westerners.

After two or three hours of creeking we had worked up a bit of a hunger and decided to hunt birds in earnest to eat. We had cracked nuts, mostly walnuts and hickory nuts, with rocks and ate the fresh meat, but it was only a morsel. We wanted game and birds were all over the place. Finally one of us using a gigger-flipper hit a bird and down it came. It was a Robin. A Robin is a pretty good sized bird, counting song birds, and we decided to dress it and roast it over a small fire we would build. We had also killed a couple of small frogs and everyone knows they are good to eat.

After several struggles in getting the fire going – we used fox grass and small twigs for kindling — we were ready to feast on the game of the bird and the amphibians we had skinned. They did not look very big when they were skinned, but we stuck the pieces on small, sharpened sticks and held them over the fire to roast. I suspect there must have been at least an ounce or two of food (total) on the game we cooked.

We shared the food and I remember getting a leg of a Robin. It was rather small and I had to bare my teeth and bite gently on the seared flesh and it was gone. Nothing but bone was left. Total calories were about 3, I guess. Not one of the fellows got more than the other and ina few minutes we had doused the fire and headed back home. I could tell that everyone was hungry. We didn’t talk much and went straight to our respective houses, but not before promising not to tell anyone that we had eaten the only Robin we would ever eat.

John Casey 9-10-02

*Acathor’s Hote: The nigger flipper was really a slingshot. Remember that we were small boys in a small rural village in dee, hern Illinois. The word was used inngcently.| We led sheltered. a and had no Ueapedcine peace associated with the slingshot. }It was to be years later, when I learned that the slingshot was used by slaveholders (the field bosses) to plink a slave who may have not been working or working at less speed than desired.

Little Bitty Bones to Knaw

We were hungry little boys, Phil, Danny, Arnold and I. We were also over two miles from our homes in Tunnel Hill, IL. We were exploring Sugar Creek, a small tributary that was just east of town. It was a pretty little creek that meandered through pastures and wooded lots, around bends and tumbled down smooth rock ledges. There was an occasional deep pool, all named, that provided shelter for small fish, frogs, water skippers and snakes.

The creek was a virtual haven for everything boys liked to do in the spring and summer, like wading in the creek, catching minnows and frogs, making dams and building pools, some deep enough to swim in. We made leaf boats and put ants or bugs on them and sailed them down stream. We made small wooden boats out of cheese boxes and powered them with rubber bands, skipped rocks, threw at water skippers, stirred up mud making the color of the water change, dug clay from banks and rolled large rocks into the creek.

We carried sling shots made from forked limbs of elm trees, red rubber strips, with leather pouches made from tongues of old shoes. We were pretty good shots too; accurate enough to hit a bird now and then or a frog on a bank. Notches on our sling shot stalks were made on kills just like the notches on gunstocks of the Westerners.

After two or three hours of creeking we had worked up a hunger. We cracked nuts, mostly walnuts and hickory nuts, and ate the fresh meat, but they were only morsels. We decided to hunt birds. Birds were everywhere. Finally one of us hit a bird and down it came. It was a Robin. A Robin is a pretty good sized bird, considering song birds. We dressed it, and planned to roast both the bird and a couple of frogs we had bagged over a small fire.

After struggling to get the fire going with fox grass and twigs, and finally succeeding, we were ready to feast on the Robin and the two frogs we had skinned. They did not look very big. We stuck the meat on small, sharpened sticks and held them over the fire to roast.

We shared the bird and frog meat. I had one leg of a Robin. It was small and I bared my teeth and bit gently on the seared flesh. It was gone in a flash, nothing but bone was left. Total calories: 3. No one received more than the others and in a few minutes we pissed on the fire and headed back home, hungry. We didn’t talk much and went straight to our respective homes, but not before promising never to tell anyone that we ate a Robin.

John Casey

9-10-02 Word count: 474

Logic, I'll Never Understand It

If you look too prosperous Or friends think you are They’re likely to send you something You’ve lived without so far

Like fleece lined boots Or fancy silverware And a box of Swedish chocolates, Course, the sender gets his share

There aint’ no use, me a gettin’ rich Knowing me, I'd spend it And borrow more for things to buy If | could get someone to lend it

I'm better off just getting by And staying where | set Cause the more | make at working The more I go in debt

So, if the market is up | could sell it On the board, but | won’t Cause making money’s one thing That | just can’t afford

It’s a different kind of logic That allows a man to boast When the richest people Are the ones who owe the most

Logic, I’ll Never Understand It

If you look too prosperous Or friends think you are They’re likely to send you something You’ve lived without so far

Like fleece lined boots Or fancy silverware And a box of Swedish chocolates, Course, the sender gets his share

There ain’t no use, me a gettin’ rich Knowing me, I’d spend it And borrow more for things to buy If I could get someone to lend it

I’m better off just getting by And staying where I set Cause the more I make at working The more I go in debt

So, if the market is up I could sell it On the board, but I won’t Cause making money’s one thing That I just can’t afford

It’s a different kind of logic That allows a man to boast When the richest people Are the ones who owes the most

Logic, I’ll Never Understand It

If you look too prosperous Or friends think you are They’re likely to send you something You’ve lived without so far

Like fleece lined boots Or fancy silverware And a box of Swedish chocolates, Course, the sender gets his share

There ain’t no use, me a gettin’ rich Knowing me, I’d spend it And borrow more for things to buy If I could get someone to lend it

I’m better off just getting by And staying where I set Cause the more I make at working The more I go in debt

So, if the market is up I could sell it On the board, but I won’t Cause making money’s one thing That I just can’t afford

It’s a different kind of logic That allows a man to boast When the richest people Are the ones who owes the most

[Capital First Corporation letterhead; "John 6/29/[99]"]

Simple small statements says Something Someone Smartly Said. — "Love makes the world Go around."

Someday Soon Soothsayers Sends Sounds — "Save her love and Keep it Safe."

mighty is the sword, mightier is the pen, but don't underestimate the power of the Love of a man and a woman.

"Star bright, Star light You're the first Star I've Seen tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might that You will grant me my wish tonight."

The pain of delay — Lasts and Lasts. a Light Shines and removes doubts for believers. If You can not See the Way, hold out Your hand. the short distance is overcome Joyously.

There is no darkness in Love. John 6/29/[99]

Grey eyes behind

Silver rimed glasses,

With wrinkly old skin,

Dusty hands, and a puckered mouth – It’s Martha.

She’s facing west

Rocking in the glider on her front porch with The simmering sun’s rays

Sneaking through her grey hair.

No bone pains, or tears. No one sees her, hears her, Or calls out to her.

No thoughts But awareness of existing Between now and then, or never.

Breathing

Being natural

Part of something, or nothing. Just souling.

John Casey 6/23/2005 a

Martha Lawrence, a widow, was very thin and was in her 70’s when we played ball on a piece of ground just in front of her house located in deep Southern Illinois, (Tunnel Hill, Johnson County, IL) in the 50’s and 60’s) The property was owned by the New York Central Railroad. There was a daily game there on all but the coldest or rainiest days. Martha would sometimes come out on her wood porch and sit in her porch swing and watch us play ball. She never smiled, waived or said anything to us, but I suspect we were not interfering with her. One day my brother, Wil, accidently threw his broom stick bat through one of her windows when we were playing a pick-up game and several of us kids scattered like marbles to avoid Martha’s wrath. He confessed and my dad bought a new window pane for Martha and he and Wil replaced it. We resumed playing.

I imagined Martha as a stern person without humor or fun in her life, but later I thought differently about her. She was reserved and she was polite. She appeared to be lonesome, maybe she was. Perhaps she watched kids playing and missed her own childhood or did not have one like ours. I’ll never know. The poem may appear sentimental, but I rather think it is about a private person who had deep thoughts that could not be shared by children playing ball.

Like ‘Macher Sho Leer : fe om cat

MARTHA’S SOUL

Grey eyes behind

Silver rimed glasses,

With wrinkly old skin,

Dusty hands, and a puckered mouth – It’s Martha.

She’s facing west

Rocking in the glider on her front porch with The simmering sun’s rays

Sneaking through her grey hair.

No bone pains, or tears. No one sees her, hears her, Or calls out to her.

No thoughts But awareness of existing Between now and then, or never.

Breathing

Being natural

Part of something, or nothing. Just souling.

John Casey 6/23/2005

Martha Lawrence, a widow, was very thin and was in her 70’s when we played ball on a piece of ground just in front of her house located in deep Southern Illinois, (Tunnel Hill, Johnson County, IL) in the 50’s and 60’s) The property was owned by the New York Central Railroad. There was a daily game there on all but the coldest or rainiest days. Martha would sometimes come out on her wood porch and sit in her porch swing and watch us play ball. She never smiled, waived or said anything to us, but I suspect we were not interfering with her. One day my brother, Wil, accidently threw his broom stick bat through one of her windows when we were playing a pick-up game and several of us kids scattered like marbles to avoid Martha’s wrath. He confessed and my dad bought a new window pane for Martha and he and Wil replaced it. We resumed playing.

I imagined Martha as a stern person without humor or fun in her life, but later I thought differently about her. She was reserved and she was polite. She appeared to be lonesome, maybe she was. Perhaps she watched kids playing and missed her own childhood or did not have one like ours. I’Il never know. The poem may appear sentimental, but I rather think it is about a private person who had deep thoughts that could not be shared by children playing ball.

A phase of my life has turned a corner. I'm thankful for that.

Today, what matters really matter. Things that don’t matter – don’t.

There are no tricks,

But fun and games persist.

Today, what matters really matter. Things that don’t matter – don’t.

What’s the matter with you? What’s the matter with me. That’s what matters.

Other things don’t matter.

The original page will appear here.

Mornings

This is not the life I would have chosen — not in a million years — But it is the life, in which I have found myself, Sidetracked, as if lost, as if stumbling,

It is not every morning that I wake up feeling strong And refreshed and confident and happy, And deeply fitted to this place and its seasons,

There are mornings I wake up Inspirited with hope with the belief that any venture That begins with a good heart and passion, will somehow end well.

On such mornings, from out of nowhere or somewhere Is the illogical promise or realization That everything will yet turn out alright.

I have instead been looking for Permission to turn away and take a rest. But I keep on going.

It is still not a bad life; for all my continued longings. In my wearing down, I keep trudging on,

One foot in front of the next.

john Casey 4/1/09

In my mind’s eye, there’s a mountain. I know there is a climb ahead. The climb will be steep, sometimes gradual. There are dangers, too, the cold, the wind, And my own fragile self.

I climb a little higher. My perspective change. Encouragement comes from everywhere And tells me Pm doing well.

Ikeep climbing. I belong here and my yearnings to belong, To be a part, are answered. My mission is important, And my climb is more committed.

I can climb higher. The best of me is being called upon. My confidence comes from progress, And new paths open before me.

The climb toward the summit Is buoyed by mutual understanding. I thrill to the challenge. Ilook around and see you. You have been climbing the mountain too. 5/19/03 jre.

coe

aera

afr

I'm my own best friend.

My best friend is me.

It hasn't alwgas been that way. I've beat me ups @nd run mé down,

but I keep coming back to me.

I'm honest, true, open

and I believe in me, Forgivenes comes—easy-Kor me because my heart is clear

and I know the meaning of honesty and understanding.

I'm my best friend-

have always been, day but I've been friends with ea e, nature, and life.

Sanctuary, no, I crave itaZ Sale [ua but it will not be there. a : With intetidgenee and feeling Jaw I recount the beautiful moments of my life.

I am never going to love someone

as much as I do noW.

Is it time that I fdmatly accept

that love is not what I alwMts believed it to

Can I have secure, no risk love? To do nothing is a risk –

To do little is a risk –

To do a lot is a risk –

fo-xisk is a choice

-Losing—is-a-real thing, winning—is—an illusion.

I have never owned another persons heart, dont want to, never will,

but inside me is the feeling –

"look, feel, hear my heart."

it says I love you only.

be?

My best friend is me.

It hasn't always been that way. I've beat me up and run me down, but I keep coming back to me.

I'm honest, true, open

and I believe in me.

Forgiveness is easy

and I know the meaning of understanding.

I'm glad that I'm my best friend and believe I always will. I've been friends with people, nature, life, and now I am with me. 8-23-98 jrc I Love You

Is there a sanctuary? No, Yet I crave it. It simply will not come.

With intelligence and feeling,

I recount the beautiful moments of my life.

I am never going to love someone as much as I do now.

Is it time that I finally accept that love is not what I believed

Can I have secure, no risk love? To do nothing is a risk.

To do little or a lot is a risk. To risk is a choice.

Losing is a real thing,

winning is an illusion.

What is important is to try, and try at least one more time.

I have never owned another persons heart,

don't want to, never will,

but inside me is the feeling –

“look, feel, hear my heart." it says I love you.

I believe I have finally met someone who can be my happiness. Everything I do, think, believe is in a simple formula, you."

When you were born lots of fairies swooped down with gifts — imagination, eloquence, intelligence, industry, ability, and beauty. Then came a fairy who said, “No one person has a right to so many gifts”, picked you up and shook you hard and denied you judgment. And, that is why I love to listen to you but seldom take your advice.

Because of the sheer allure of your face and figure; how you move, talk, laugh, and dance with almost diabolical magic, you obviously had to get used to being the most beautiful and neatest person in the room. Your sallies, jokes, splashes of venom and apothegms, have taught me there is a premium on effort and a penalty on inertia.

MY BEST FRIEND

I’m my own best friend. My best friend is me.

It hasn’t always been that way.

T’ve beat me up And run me down,

But I keep coming back to me.

I’m honest, true, open And I believe in me. Forgiveness comes easy Because my heart is clear And I know the meaning Of honesty and understanding.

I’ve been friends with nature, People, life and me. I’m my best friend, And I will always be.

I can love someone As much as they let me. That is how love Should be.

I love you only.

lam branded by the hardships And driven by a new hunger, That seeks stronger meat Than any I have known before. I have become a journeyer That’s the truth of it,

And wonder where this journey will end.

I must go now.

When

There was a time

When hearts were close,

When time stood still,

When we embraced,

When it was quiet,

When you whispered, Ilove you.

John/12/27/98

© Gartner Studios

She lies beside me nightly

And wakes me gently with a kiss. First, I only know “Good Morning.” Then, I recall, “Good Night.”

My hero loves the rain,

Can brave the cold,

Endure the heat,

And invites our dog to walk with us.

I don’t see what she sees

Until she points them out to me,

And then I become aware

Of hidden patterns and subtle shades.

Her boundless enthusiasm for life

Opens doors for me

With surprises I might never have experienced That creates renewals of our love.

She’s a continuous learner

With an intellectual curiosity

That is endlessly reoccurring itself Which feeds my own.

She has marvelous ability to forget my jokes Laughing uproariously even though

She’s heard them over and over again,

And I love her for that.

She is a surprising strong person

And can move heavy stuff,

Like the couch, the table, – yikes,

But needs and welcomes my help to make the bed.

Equally fearlessly, she steers

The essentials of the dinner party

To the table artfully set

With matched courses of delightful fare.

She is organized, dressed to kill,

And a natural diplomat to the laureates and novelists Who take their seats and began their profound Insights into the workings of the world.

She has charmed casual and informal relationships With them and made them feel at home

Just as she has always charmed and

Made me feel at home – with my hero.

Perhaps its what she shows me that I can’t see, And to find something hidden

And fascinating in every new person and experience That makes her heroic in my eyes.

She has shown me how an intense love Can be maintained for so long

And be continuously renewed.

My hero lies beside me.

My Hero She lies beside me nightly And wakes me gently with a kiss. First, I only know “Good Morning.” Then, I recall, “Good Night.” My hero loves the rain, Can brave the cold, Endure the heat, And invites our dog to walk with us. I don’t see what she sees Until she points them out to me, And then I become aware Of hidden patterns and subtle shades. Her boundless enthusiasm for life Opens doors for me With surprises I might never have experienced That creates renewals of our love. She’ s a continuous learner With an intellectual curiosity That is endlessly reoccurring itself Which feeds my own. She has marvelous ability to forget my jokes Laughing uproariously even though She’ s heard them over and over again, And I love her for that. She is a surprising strong person And can move heavy stuff, Like the couch, the table, – yikes, But needs and welcomes my help to make the bed.

Equally fearlessly, she steers The essentials of the dinner party T o the table artfully set With matched courses of delightful fare. She is organized, dressed to kill, And a natural diplomat to the laureates and novelists Who take their seats and began their profound Insights into the workings of the world. She has charmed casual and informal relationships With them and made them feel at home Just as she has always charmed and Made me feel at home – with my hero. P erhaps its what she shows me that I can’t see, And to find something hidden And fascinating in every new person and experience That makes her heroic in my eyes. She has shown me how an intense love Can be maintained for so long And be continuously renewed. My hero lies beside me. Written for my Sister-in-Law, Catherine, as a gift to my brother, Wil. He has been very happy because of her.

My IRISH EVES ARE SHINING

Oh Teddy boy, oh Teddy boy our pipes are bursting from home to home and in the countryside

Oh come ye back, oh Teddy boy from warm sand and gentle breezes to Texas where we are freezing

Oh Teddy boy, oh Teddy boy we Loved you. So when we didnt know where you would go

Help us, oh Teddy boy in our sorrows today from heating bills we can not pay

Oh come ye back, Oh Teddy boy and face your sorrows and avoid sad tomorrows,

We Loved you so. Jokn

My IRISH EYES ARE SHINING Oh Teddy boy, oh Teddy boy our pipes are bursting from home to home and in the countryside Oh come ye back, oh Teddy boy from warm sand and gentle breezes to Texas where we are freezing Oh Teddy boy, oh Teddy boy we loved you so when we didn’t know where you would go Help us, oh Teddy boy in our sorrows today from heating bills we can not pay Oh come ye back, Oh Teddy boy and face your sorrows and avoid sad tomorrows. We loved you so. john

My life:

1 will Jive it in uth

J will always learn

I will do my best

I will be thankful

T will play

T will always think young ' I will write

I will read voraciously

I will be determined

I will be what am

I will be all the AM’s I ever was. Tam new this minute

My “am’s”: lam 60 years old

Tam a Caucasian male

Tam the 5" child, 4" of 5 males, of a family of 8 1am the benefactor of my father and mother’s genes Tam thankful for my life

Tam twice married and have a son

Iam a hero to my son. He is my mentor.

Jam a writer

Jam a dreamer

Tam creative

Tama giver

Tam aman of principles

Tam a voracious reader

Tam determined

Lam loyal

Jam a confidential friend

lam talented because of my desire

Tam positive

Tam worthy

lam courageous

Tam a boy and also a man

Lam sensitive

lam motived and affected by words

Tam an explorer

Tam a good example

Jama sinner

Jam fearful of God

Tam all of the AM’s Iam.

Only in the moments of extreme intimacy do you ever get to see any body’s else’s shadow selves. Usually you see only the assured, confident masks others wear. So you may believe you are the only pretender, all alone in your deception and fear, the only one in the world who must wear the lying mask.

It takes a lot of energy to create the mask and to keep it from slipping. The constant anxiety and underlying sorrow costs still more.

If you could put down your mask, release your fear, welcome your shadow selves out into the sunlight — imagine the energy, health and joy you might also release. It’s terribly hard to do, after a lifetime of keeping the mask firmly in place. Tt may be the hardest work you'll ever do, and the most rewarding.

M uy Valentine She lies beside me nightly

A\nd wakes me gently with a kiss First, | only know “Good Morning,” then, | recall, “Good Night”

My Valentine loves the rain, can brave the cold E.ndure the heat And invites our dog to walk with us

| don’t see what she sees until she points them out to me

And then | become aware

OF hidden patterns and subtle shades

Perhaps it’s what she shows me that | can’t see And to find something hidden

And fascinating in every person and experience

Her boundless enthusiasm for life opens doors for me With surprises | might never have experienced

That creates renewals of our love

She’s a continuous learner With an intellectual curiosity That is endlessly entertaining

She has marvelous ability to forget my jokes Laughing uproariously even though

She’s heard them over and over again

She is organized, dresses to kill Anda natural diplomat to the laureates and novelists

Who take their seats at the table with us

My Valentine has shown me how an intense love Can be maintained for so long My Valentine lies beside me every night

Lee Trevino told them at the Master's he wasn't coming back.

He said his chances were not good

on a hocker’s track,

Pete Rose told everyone he may have bet, but not on baseball.

Re said it was just fun to keep scores on his dugout wall.

Sugar Ray Leonard vowed he would never step back in the ring.

He said millions and glory could not make him suffer boxing's sting.

A.J. Foyt promised his family and friends before the last Indy race.

That he was through and he was

slowing down his pace.

Even George Burns told Gracie that he wouldn't reach fifty.

He said that long ago, for sure, because he's 92 and still nifty.

So, if you see me on the back nine at Green Hills with Greg Long,

Forgive me,and remember, NEVER, is the word in my life that doesn't belong.

John Casey 8-24-89

Lee Trevino told them at the Master's he wasn't coming back; he said his chances were not good on a hooker's track. Pete Rose told everyone he may have lost, but it was just fun to keep scores on his dugout wall. Sugar Ray Leonard vowed he would never step back in the ring. He said millions and glory could not make him suffer Lonny's sting. A.J. Foyt promised his family and friends that he was through and was slowing down his pace. George Burns told Gracie that he wouldn't reach fifty – he said that long ago, for sure, because he's 92 and still nifty. So, if you see me on the back nine at Green Hills with Greg Long, forgive me; remember, NEVER is the word in my life that doesn't belong. – John Casey 8-26-89

No forcible changes to Mother Nature’s intents No variations of tongues or documented events

No paths to break free of our earthly place No clashes over borders, religion or race

No bridges to cross, No one to be our boss No nets for fish No wishes to wish No guns of steel No garments to feel No wheels that roll Nothing to make us toil

No skyward accomplishments no writings on stone No staining or polishing of our galactic home

No hinge of stone or that great big wall No one to tell us about it all

No flashes of thought that let us thrive No one to know because we’re not alive

Inspired by my son’s question -— What would happen if there were no humans?

Non-Existent

No forcible changes to Mother Nature’s intents No variations of tongues or documented events

No paths to break free of our earthly place No clashes over borders, religion or race

No bridges to cross, No one to be our boss No nets for fish No wishes to wish No guns of steel No garments to feel No wheels that roll Nothing to make us toil

No skyward accomplishments no writings on stone No staining or polishing of our galactic home

No hinge of stone or that great big wall No one to tell us about it all

No flashes of thought that let us thrive No one to know because we’re not alive

Inspired by my son’s question – What would happen if there were no humans?

As I drive the Great River Road

I’m looking for eagles In the tallest trees

When I see one I’m thankful Of it and the day ahead

I look for deer In marshy grass And edges of thickets

z, LIX, ov ae Isee a wild turkey

Hh And look for more I'll count them every time

In the air I see Geese in V’s And crows that would never Be caught in formation

A great blue heron Silently flaps its wings as it flies across The shallow swamp

Lesser herons and white egrets Wade knee deep In dark pools of water

A kingfisher sits perched On a gray limb Of an old cypress tree

I look for hawks Cardinals, finches And brown thrushes

Soon I pass the wildlife area And resume my speed on the busy lane On my way to work

John Casey 9-25-06

ON MY WAY TO WORK

As I drive the Great River Road I’m looking for an eagle In the tallest trees

I also look for deer In the marshy grass At edges of thickets

If I see a wild turkey T’ll look for more And count them every time

I see geese in V’s And crows that would never Be caught in formation

A great blue heron Silently flaps its wings as it flies Across the shallow swamp

Blue herons and white egrets Wade knee deep In the dark water

A kingfisher sits perched On a gray limb Of an old cypress tree

I look for hawks Cardinals, finches And brown thrushes

Soon I pass the wildlife area And resume my speed on the busy lane On my way to work

On My Way to Work

As I drive the Great River Road I’m looking for eagles In the tallest trees

When I see one I’m thankful Of it and the day ahead

I look for deer In marshy grass And edges of thickets

I see a wild turkey And look for more I'll count them every time

In the air I see Geese in V’s And crows that would never Be caught in formation

A great blue heron Silently flaps its wings as it flies across The shallow swamp

Lesser herons and white egrets Wade knee deep In dark pools of water

Akingfisher sits perched On a gray limb Of an old cypress tree

I look for hawks Cardinals, finches And brown thrushes

Soon I pass the wildlife area And resume my speed on the busy lane

On my way to work

John Casey 9-25-06

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You say hello – hi, and whisper. Your tone is quiet and reassuring.

T am tough, yet

you encourage me to stand even taller. You are on my side.

I know il.

You remind me of youth, truth, and reaching. It is easy to say

you.

Say it outloud and on purpose or don't say it at all.

If it is important – tell me or let it be.

Outloud and on purpose clearly states a position that we know that you know it's the thing to do.

Saying what you mean

Let's us know where you stand on issues, things and people.

Let me hear you say

I love you – outloud and on purpose. The words will keep me going

loud and clear and on purpose.

You will not hear me say

things so quiet that you can not hear. It make's me who I am when

I'm outloud and on purpose with you.

Jrc 9-1-98

PATSY SQUEEZO

Her hugs are free to friends like you and me.

They are delightful fun accompanied by the familiar -"Hon."

"Come here," she becons "You need a hug," – I recon.

Dark tan- pale eyes, bootie shaker Sun soaker, beer drinker – par breaker.

Sometimes loud, always proud. Deep thinker – fun maker.

Becky O. and Debbie Mezo are best friends of Patsy Squeezo.

So too are Tony, Cooter, Stork and Paul. In fact, we know that she loves us all.

She has a heart so fine, better than the best metal from a mine.

How sweet and good you are PATSY BULLARD, to me, you’re a star.

John Casey 8-6-96

PAY ATTENTION Devote time to high-intensity, deliberate practice activities. Ata certain point, a person has to develop a personal commitment.

Think specifically rather than generally

Find assignments and push to do the things that must be done “Put the fish on the table” and confront reality

Doing what’s necessary often isn’t easy

Don’t give up too soon

Try to see the outcome without being overwhelmed

2/15/10

The snow keeps coming and I keep hunkered down and dress in layers when I venture forth. I’ve read all the books in the library and have eaten 27 different kinds of chili. My humor has worn thin. My hair is long, and my skin is pale.

My shoes are all polished and golf shirts and tee shirts are folded and resting. A plan for my garden looks promising. I can’t wait to open my windows.

I looked at the rising sun this morning and it was barely past 7 a.m. How gorgeous. T’'ll stare at the new moon in the western sky before going indoors for the night.

Now is the time to trust men’s soul. Ah, tomorrow is only a day away. 2/07 827

The snow keeps coming And I keep hunkered down I dress in layers

When I venture forth

T’ve read most of the books in the library And eaten 27 kinds of chili

My humor has worn thin; my hair is long And my skin is pale

My shoes are all polished;

Spring and summer shirts are put away And plans for my garden is coming together I can hardly wait to open my windows

I looked at the rising sun this morning; How gorgeous; It was just past seven Tonight there will be a full moon

T'll look for it before going in for the night

PERFECT HARMONY

The thing I’d like to see Is perfect harmony

How much fun it could be If all of us agree

No one would start a fight But smile and laugh with all our might

And when it’s time to tee it up Or when our ball heads for the cup

We'd hear, “Nice shot,” “That’s good It would be the way it should

We'd say, “Let’s have a beer” Because we’d be in such good cheer

I can’t wait to play tomorrow When harmony has erased my sorrow

“Why can’t we just get-along,” Would become our favorite song

I'd call it perfect harmony If my golf game didn’t cost me too much money

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MORE THAN ANYTHING I Love being outside in wet weather in the woods and fields with The dripping brush, [darkened] wet Leaves and darkened soil.

The rain drops will touch Every tree and leaf in the woods and every blade of grass.

First the rain hits the Cap I'm wearing and drops to my shoulders. my boot toes are wetted But my feet are dry.

I Love to go into a barn when it's raining. Sharpening tools and Just thinking is [satisfying] and [satisfying] tasks.

I Love returning to the house with an armLoad of firewood For a nice fire that brings Comfort from a Lonely, Country rain.

My mom raised an only child — 8 of 'em

George was Number one, the first. Mom's Love for him made him fairly burst.

Jim was her favorite artist son. He felt he was her only one.

Bill was Loved Like No Other. My brother knew he was the only Son of my Mother.

Edith, I know, felt her special Love. Now mom shines on her from above.

It was easy for me, John, to See That the one She Loved best was me.

Liz's mom Loved her the most. My sis was Tops, mom would [boast?].

Terry, So Kind, was mom's Pet. That he was an only Child, he would bet.

Mary Ellen, her Last and best, Knew she was Loved more than the rest.

We were all the only Child — or Such — because our Mom Loved us so Much. — John, 8/6/91

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ONE AND KOKO She Likes me, don't You Know, my Little Fluffy White Cat Koko.

She Purrs when I Pick her up and Comes running when it's Time to Sup.

She Curls up on my bed at night and when Strangers Comes, She runs in fright.

She PARKS her Carcass on my Shoulder in the morning and has a smoochy face with Kind of a Scowl.

The hair on her feet and Tail Needs trimming, But there's hardly time when I'm rubbing.

She Cries to be held and wants to eat when I'm in the house — She's at my feet.

She Chases rabbits and the birds all the Time, Looking rather absurd.

I Call her KoKo, and Sometimes how She'll answer and Sometimes Come, but Never run.

She's Cute, Small, and like No Other — Sometimes She Thinks I'm her mother.

She Likes me, don't You Know, my Little fluffy white Cat KoKo.

Poems

You ask how old Iam I may be 92

But I will not admit To being more than 20

I might be 50 Or only 25

You may not want to know how old I am But I will tell you anyway

I was born the day I met you You took away my blues

My Father was a Ladies Man Song. Change to Country by using daddy and moma. My father was a ladies man My mother was his lady

He met her at church one day And asked to take her home She agreed and off they took In the wagon that he drove

He was tall and handsome She was pretty and petite My father was a ladies man My mother was his lady

They fell in love that day And vowed they would never part Where he would go, she would be They were lovers you see

He provided, she prepared

For the eight children they would have Not once was there a cross word

That anyone would hear

Their union lasted many years It was plain to see

That my father was a ladies man My mother was his lady

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Pretty Sue always made sure my Nickel sack of popcorn was full When I went to the show

When I see a colorful door I think of the talented air brush Artist, Kevin

I see the gifted Scott playing Frisbee with his brothers In the back yard

On Christmas Eve, Iam reminded Of baby Kent, the future turkey hunter That God loaned to all of us.

Memories come to mind easily when you love someone

It takes only a minute.

dre 12/2011

RAIL BIRDS

Flocks of Rosters on the: rail crowing in the early morning with expectations of brightness that they believe they can bring.

As the dew begins to leave

the dark green grass,

the starter's siren wails

the signal for all golfers to start.

The sound of ball and club are everywhere, east, south, here and there.

Skyward soar some balls and others skid and come to rest, wet and tired.

A laugh escapes tense lips

and the pros says "that's great." All is well amoung the group when everyone has hit a shot.

The ladies clap and smile

because they have come so many miles to play a game of golf with pros, and the rail bird caddy is now forgotten.

John Casey 9/3/94

Experience of the first day in my attempt to

caddy for a LPGA Pro at the Rail Classic, Springfield, Il. Unsuccessful from 6:30°¢5

4:00 PM on Wednesday. Successful on Thursday.

Susan Thielbar, Clearwater, Fla – a rookie.

9:00 to 3:36K (30 min for lunch break) was caddy

time. Pay $40.00 plus $10.00 for yardage book.

Susan shoots 70,71,72 over the weekend and wins

$1376.00.

Rain is coming

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness Hanging on a stall brace Is comforting to my soul When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles On the uneven ground I'll go looking for a rainbow When it stops

john casey 2004

r stem bec =~ Bat OCA & ‘ FLY A ancl ©

patt

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness On nails on a stall brace Is comforting When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles Appear on the uneven ground

And when the rain quits T'll be looking for a rainbow. john casey 2004

) 1, A Sheu ) a Drew CIAL Ch 22 70 Cur bak un Fu ninhok ted (: we Vs Sted Bere reek

~ 4 3 7 A pepe im ut Lthiny wa. Ceudh.,

Yaris Vere All Pred 7 tH

Rain is coming

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness Hanging on a stall brace Is comforting to my soul When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles On the uneven ground T'll go looking for a rainbow When it stops

john casey 2004

Hip ondge th Cam 1955 –

cede fo0eepok bnrstal bat! cy Fhe LOZ

op seaee Bae opan aid band AT 4g Lrieaichs Ceome

Ley “ “brastat Panck web &

Rain

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness On nails ona stall brace Is comforting When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles Appear on the uneven ground

And when the rain quits T'll be looking for a rainbow. john casey 2004

AS e QA taw “wal Chee 7O cer Lai

Lv uenind ok tol. Ule. Viste Were Oreck. al in ut tthe, vie. Ceulh..

puri s er BAbL Preeudk FH

Rain

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness On nails on a stall brace Is comforting When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles Appear on the uneven ground

And when the rain quits I'll be looking for a rainbow. john casey 2004

Sheau QA baw wat Chee vo cer Lane mM Setninlal Heol, Ke Wi S77he| Flere, er

~Pegpet on – thhiny rele. Corll,

Enis We. acl Precerccl 7-H.

a SS

Rain

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness On nails on a stall brace Is comforting When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles Appear on the uneven ground

And when the rain quits T'll be looking for a rainbow. john casey 2004

Rain

Being in an old Barn With fresh cut hay And a moldy corn crib With leather harness On nails on a stall brace Is comforting When rain hits the tin roof Runs off and puddles Appear on the uneven ground When the rain quits T'll be looking for a rainbow. john casey 2004

Rain I love being in the woods when its raining Rain darkens tree bark and soil and brightens leaves Rain running down my face is welcomed It makes me smile and reminds me that I am mortal Rain that can’t be seen in the dark is wetter than drops I duck in daylight When I go into woods when it’s raining I listen to God’s music jrc – 10-24-97

RANDY

In rumpled jeans A rumpled shirt A rumpled cap Covering his rumpled hair He raised his hand Ina salute And greeted his friends With his smoky voice That sounded like fast Running water Over gravel He was an elegant man And my best friend

je 5/20/11

Mike, Stork, Tom, and others.

I was saddened to hear about Randy. Everyone grieves in their own way

T use words.

He knew his friends.

Character, measures a person.

He stood tall in my books.

Rita Hernandez

My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

She and baseball has been berry, berry good to me, And I have loved them both since I was only three.

I like Rita’s many brothers too, all still alive, And all her sisters, how many, five?

Rita Hernandez is a special girl.

She makes my head and heart swim in a swirl.

I love Rita’s tacos, enchiladas, and refried beans.

She makes them spicy and hot, if you know what I mean. Pass the salsa, pass the tamales, and pass the gas, I scream. Holy criminey, I need relief — please pass the ice cream.

My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

She laughs and smiles and sometimes giggles, And I like to watch her ass as it wiggles.

Her eyes, they sparkle like sunshine. T always wanted to make her mine. My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

Rita grew up and became a bride,

And my tears were shed, I wanted to hide.

She married a great guy, he was no dope.

They managed to stay together with help from the Pope.

Now Rita is older and just a bit gray, And I have only this to say;

My name is Jose’ Jimenez,

And I just love Rita Hernandez.

Happy Birthday Rita John Casey 11-08-2001

Vous

yas

Sar

Samugl Edward Stevens Weleomeg and congratulations

So, Samugl Edward Stevens gou have arrived, Alll pink and soft fis we expected.

We are surprised

About you Today.

Perhaps you arg surprised too.

Weleomeg, Samugl Edward Stevens Sing us a song. We will listen ind think you're great.

Telling about you Will g0 on forever. Beeause You came with love and joy.

Congratulations Samugl Edward Stevens You makg us proud, ‘ind happg.

The goodngss

That you bring

Reminds us that All is well.

Sing your song loud and elgar. Bond with us, We're glad you're here Samugl Edward Stevens.

John casey 2/26/2002 Minutes after hearing of your birth. It’s just after noon. Temp. 20 degrees.

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You’re looking at a second hand shirt That came right off my back It’s really beyond my means But | don’t expect you’ll cut me any slack

You might think I’m a thoughtful man Though | might be undeserved But I'll take what every comes to me No matter what’s being served

Cause being the practical man | am Pll have you know | make my decisions on cost, in every case It’s a way to keep me in my place

So bless this shirt and the life | embrace And please forgive me for my pride Or I’ll come right over there And jerk this secondhand shirt right off your lousy hide.

Secondhand Shirt

You’re looking at a second hand shirt That came right off my back It’s really beyond my means But I don’t expect you'll cut me any slack

You might think I’m a thoughtful man Though I might be undeserved But I’ll take what every comes to me No matter what’s being served

Cause being the practical man I am I’ll have you know I make my decisions on cost, in every case It’s a way to keep me in my place

So bless this shirt and the life I embrace And please forgive me for my pride Or I’ll come right over there And jerk this secondhand shirt right off your lousy hide.

Secondhand Shirt

You’re looking at a second hand shirt That came right off my back It’s really beyond my means But | don’t expect you’ll cut me any slack

You might think I’m a thoughtful man Though | might be undeserved But Ill take what every comes to me No matter what’s being served

Cause being the practical man | am Pll have you know | make my decisions on cost, in every case It’s a way to keep me in my place

So bless this shirt and the life | embrace And please forgive me for my pride Or I'll come right over there And jerk this secondhand shirt right off your lousy hide.

Snapshots of faded memories flood our minds. Don’t’ throw them away just yet.

Recall the laughter and taste the chocolate pie. Tomorrow, not today, will be our day to die.

Make war, not peace. It’s not time to forgive. Revenge is on our plate. Let’s get the ones we hate.

Are you OK today? Will you be better tomorrow?

Now that some of our friends are gone, Our work and lives are not done.

We will see the colors of rainbows, and hear the peaceful wind.

The snapshots we keep or send, will keep us strong until our end.

John Casey 9-12-01

eee

COLDWELL BANKER EDW TEL: 6186927292

SEP. -14° 0) fP

10:18

Snapshots of faded memories flood our minds. Don’t’ throw them away just yet.

Recall the laughter and taste the chocolate pic. Tomorrow, not today, will be our day to die.

Make war, not peace. It’s not time to forgive. Itevenge is on our plate, Let’s get the ones we hate.

Are you OK today? Will you be better tomorrow?

Now that some of our friends are gone, Our work and lives are not done.

We will see the colors of rainbows, and hear the peaceful wind,

The snapshots we keep or send, will keep us strong until our end.

John Casey 9-12-01

P. 003

SNAPSHOTS

Snapshots of faded memories flood our minds. Don’t’ throw them away just yet. Recall the laughter and taste the chocolate pie.

Tomorrow, not today, will be our day to die.

Make war, not peace. It’s not time to forgive. Revenge is on our plate. Let’s get the ones we hate.

Are you OK today? Will you be better tomorrow?

Now that some of our friends are gone, Our work and lives are not done.

We will see the colors of rainbows, and hear the peaceful wind.

The snapshots we keep or send, will keep us strong until our end.

John Casey 9-12-01

Stained, Scratched, and Chipped

That’s bad news for most things Like floors, walls, wood, glass or rock. The same is true for hearts, souls Minds and bodies.

The techniques for removing stains, Sealing scratches, or fixing chips Are as numerous as the infliction,

And we will try our ways.

We want to literally pull it out And let it be gone, But that is not the case if We place value on the damage done.

A professional with the proper tools And skills may apply a solution to the stain, File the scratch smooth,

And patch the chip.

Others will try this or that And take advice from anyone, And sometimes the stain widens, The scratch deepens and the chip shatters.

We still apply the oil, salve, varnish, Lotion, the words, the pills To make them Disappear.

I notice the tiniest imperfection And do not treat them as flaws, But as character marks.

They are my stains, scratches and chips.

As | try to deal with the stains, scratches and chips |

and how | am marked. The imperfections can not be totally erased,

At my apartment, | also think of my own body, mind and spirit,

and |'m learning how to deal with them. A\s my apartment

hape and provides comfort to me, so too must | accept myself with all of my flaws. Maybe it’s not too bad to have scars

that wor’t ever go away.

Stained, Scratched, and Chipped

That’s bad news for most things Like floors, walls, wood, glass or rocks The same is true for hearts, souls Minds and bodies

The techniques for removing stains Sealing scratches, or fixing chips Are as numerous as the infliction

And we will try our ways

We want to literally make them vanish And let them be gone But that is not easy

If we place value on the damaged thing

A professional with proper tools And skills may apply a solution to stains File scratches smooth, patch chips Or counsel, and prescribe

Others will try this or that And take advice from anyone And sometimes the stain widens The scratch deepens and the chip shatters

We still apply oil, salve, varnish, glue, Lotion, words, and pills To make them Disappear

I notice the imperfection, in me, of course And do not treat them as flaws But as character marks They are my stains, scratches and chips

As| try to deal with the stains, scratches and chips in my apartment, J also think of my own body, mind and spirit, and how | am marked. The imperfections can not be totally erased, and | learn to deal with them. As my apartment provides comfort to me, so too must | accept myself with all of my flaws. Maybe it’s not too bad

to have stains, scratches and chips that won’t ever go away.

Jre 3/03 393

Stay means “I love you.” Say it now. Say it often Stay my love.

Stay and talk to me. Tell me your wishes. Say out loud your fears.

Stay and tell me your dreams. I'll be quiet. Listen to mine.

Stay is a charming word That says | trust you with me. Come stay with me and be my love.

July 4, 2004 JRC

Ever now and then a simple real life thought brings the meaning of real to me. In order to become real | must become a lover of real life in all its complexities and uncertainty.

As | have learned to acknowledge, accept, and appreciate what it is that makes me different from all the other people in the world, the process of becoming authentic unfolds. Process becomes progress. Becoming real doesn’t happen overnight. Generally by the time you are real most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes can’t see as well, and you get aches and pains. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. | longed to be real and to know what authenticity feels like. Sometimes this hurts, but becoming real is sometimes uncomfortable or unpleasant and sometimes embarrassing of having yourself hanging out. Progress becomes reality perfected.

As | become real to me | become real to those who know and love me. | become Real to everyone. Authentic.

Stay

Stay means “i love you.” Say it now. Say it often Stay my love.

Stay and talk to me. Tell me your wishes. Say out loud your fears.

Stay and tell me your dreams. rll be quiet. Listen to mine.

Stay is a charming word That says | trust you with me. Come stay with me and be my love.

July 4, 2004 JRC

Ever now and then a simple real life thought brings the meaning of real to me. In order to become real | must become a lover of real life in all its complexities and uncertainty.

As | have learned to acknowledge, accept, and appreciate what it is that makes me different from all the other people in the world, the process of becoming authentic unfolds. Process becomes progress. Becoming real doesn’t happen overnight. Generally by the time you are real most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes can’t see as well, and you get aches and pains. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand. | longed to be real and to know what authenticity feels like. Sometimes this hurts, but becoming real is sometimes uncomfortable or unpleasant and sometimes embarrassing of having yourself hanging out. Progress becomes reality perfected.

As | become real to me I become real to those who know and love me. | become Real to everyone. Authentic.

STEAKS IN SOUTH CAROLINA

Steaks in South Carolina

Fit the hardy appetites of JR & Merle

If they are combined with a bloody mary In a large glass that they swirl

Add a baked potato And a bit of salad salt & pepper

And toss in a tomato

Hold your glass up high And revel in the good life Now chomp up that meal It’s quite a deal

A steak in South Carolina

Is as good as fish in Nebraska If you don’t believe it,

Just aska

John

WINTER IN ILLINOIS

It’s winter in Illinois

And the gentle breezes blow Seventy miles an hour

At thirty-five below

Oh, how I love Illinois

When the snow’s up to your butt You take a breath of winter

And your nose gets frozen shut

Yes, the weather here is beautiful So I guess I’ll hang around

I could never leave Illinois

Cuz I’m frozen to the ground!

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Stripes on Zebras and spots on leopards And an elephant with a trunk Are things in my sphere of understanding But I don't know how a fish can fly.

T don't know why alcohol makes me drunk Or why aspirin relieves a headache. It has to do with molecules I'm told, And I stop right there, befuddled.

A raccoon without a mask Or a toothless alligator Would be strange, but not as strange as A mirror that lets me see myself.

T'll go on seeing things, And doing things, and pushing buttons, But I'll not seek the answers To what makes things work Until I have to.

Stripes on Zebras and spots on leopards And an elephant with a trunk Are things in my sphere of understanding But I don't know how a fish can fly.

I don't know why alcohol makes me drunk Or why aspirin relieves a headache. It has to do with molecules I'm told, And I stop right there, befuddled.

A raccoon without a mask Or a toothless alligator Would be strange, but not as strange as A mirror that lets me see myself.

T'll go on seeing things, And doing things, and pushing buttons, But T'll not seek the answers To what makes things work Until T have to.

Sunday Morning Storm

It's Sunday morning, about 8:45 A storm is rolling in from the Southwest Uneven clouds in shades of grey Darken the scene – Street lights are on

Cloud to cloud lightning Brings thunder rumbles And ground to sky lightning Are sight and sound exclamation marks

A dog walker scurries along the side walk His fluffy brown dog by his side Is enjoying The invigorating fresh air

Birds are chirping everywhere As though they are part of a chorus Large birds Are frolicking in the strong wind

If I go inside I'll see The red, yellow, and green storm on the weather channel Sure to break the mood of a wonderful morning storm So, I will stay a little longer on my front porch

jre 4/13/2014

I love storms and enjoy the muscle of them. The one in the poem was particularly strong and helped me focus on the strength I needed at the time to get better.

Sunday Morning Storm It’s Sunday morning, about 8:45 A storm is rolling in from the Southwest Uneven clouds in shades of grey Darken the scene Cloud to cloud lightning Brings thunder rumbles And ground to sky lightning Are sight and sound exclamation marks A dog walker scurries along her fluffy brown dog by her side both are enjoying The invigorating fresh air Birds are chirping everywhere As though they are part of a chorus Large birds are frolicking in the strong wind If I go inside it will break the mood of a wonderful morning storm So, I will stay a little longer on my front porch jrc 4/13/2014 I love storms and enjoy the muscle of them. The one in the poem was particularly strong and helped me focus on the strength I needed at that time.

Ten thousand years I have waited for the right person to be in my life. It has been like waiting for a tiger in the night.

I long to hear the swish-swish of the soft feet nearing me in the darkness as my pulse increases ten fold. A soft and exciting sound of the tiger brushing against a limb and the singing of a bent branch as the tiger rushes towards me, closing in on me. | peer into the darkness seeing nothing and wanting to have neon brightness shine into clear eyes as they approach me.

As I wait | think of heaven and hell. | think of the money I owe and the sins I have committed. I think of the work | ought to do and wonder if I'm really treading water and that my life is about two-thirds or more finished.

Four or five thousand more years pass and I say to myself, “well, | wonder how much longer Til give this tiger?” I start thinking about a very cold and dry martini, a hot shower, a big fire and the cool crisp sheets on the bed.

I peer harder into the shadows until my eyes are to the popping point, but I can’t see anything. This is the hardest part, the waiting. The waiting when I want to be with the tiger more than anything. I am so deeply interested in the visit that I am impervious to all life around me.

I do not know if the tiger will come. All of a swift sudden I hear a sound that makes my heart leap, the pit-pat of soft steps…the tiger is near. I wait. Just a few seconds of delusion persist. The tiger has arrived.

Waiting is peculiar.

This Match.com thing is silly with pearl handles. But whom among us that doesn’t have a great big silly to hang on the wall?

However, I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. I own everything about me, my body, my feelings, my voice, my dreams, my hopes, my successes, and all of my failures. | find it OK being me.

I seek a partner of my joys And the sharer of my sorrows.

I seek a relationship that is an amazing mirror reflecting back at me — the loving, affectionate, caring, devoted, tender, compassionate, adorable and passionate parts of myself — and the person I want to be.

Ask, ask, and ask. This does not come easily. | know that if I don’t ask, I haven't a chance. I will ask for a miracle — politely, with passion and with a grateful heart.

TERRY One day I was walking amid whirly things quietly thinking of memories of a shy sweet smile of a brother I will not see again Terry Casey was my brother. He died alone.

"Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but |just couldn't sleep | tried counting, backwards. | tried counting, sheep.

The leftovers beckoned – the dark meat and white.

But] fought the temptation with all of my might.

‘Tossing and turning with anticipation

The thought of a snack became infatuation.

So | raced to the kitchen, flung open the door And gazed at the fridge, full of goodies galore.

| gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,

Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

| Felt myself swelling te) plump and so round, Til all of a sudden, | rose of f the ground.

| crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie.

But | managed to yell as | soared past the trees… Happy eating to all- pass the cranberries please.

May your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump. May your potatoes in! gravy have nary a lump.

May your yams be delicious, may your pics take the prize. May your Thanksgiving dinner stay of F of your thighs. May Yate Aeplisgeing b2. blessed {

Thanksgiving blessing

"Twas the night of Thanksgiving, but |just couldn't sleep | tried counting, backwards. | tried counting sheep.

The leftovers beckoned – the dark meat and white. But | fought the temptation with all of my might.

‘Tossing and turning with anticipation The thought of a snack became infatuation.

Se | raced to the kitchen, flung open the door And gazed at the fridge, Full of goodies galore.

gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,

Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

Felt myself swelling so plump and so round, Til all of a sudden, | rose off the ground.

crashed through the ceiling, floating into the sky With a mouthful of pudding anda handful of pic.

But] managed to yell as | soared past the trees… Happy eating to all ~ pass the cranberries please.

ay your stuffing be tasty, may your turkey be plump. ay your potatoes ‘in’ gravy have nary a lump.

ay your yams be delicious, may your pies take the prize.

ay your Thanksgiving dinner stay off of your thighs. May Yair Taprttsguiny 62. blosSek f

To dull the pain and fight fatigue and insomnia | began popping, pills and slipped into a fog of self pity. I needed to stop dwelling on myself if 1 was ever going to heal. AT first 1 had doubts. tcould barely get out of bed and felt { had nothing to offer the world.

1 made a conscious effort to give things away and shift focus to others. That would allow something positive to happen. Gifts don’t have to be material things. A smile, or praise would do. The key was to be mindful about it. | would have to mean it. | needed to be sensitive to others. And distance myself from toxic people.

Itwas’na clanging, of bells or hallelujahs, or a eureka moment that changed my outlook. ft was more like shadows in a woods, ripples in the water, and reflections that awoke me.

| changed doctors. It helped. My son said he wanted me to write my story. I’ve been doing that. The key; it’s OK to care about ourselves ,, but it’s better if you care about others. It is not a swap. There are no comparisons.

t have less material items and more kindness. | feel better. |

am free. Time is dear to me.

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The Dark Night

It’s not about how good we are,

Or even how good we can get

The dark night takes our goodness

Like a handful of dry leaves and crumples it into dust

It show us that we can never

Be vigil enough

No one can know how and when The night will come

I have been peppered with black days Days when I just hunkered down

As though I was wounded

And yet endured

I tried not to dwell in the dark

Knowing that the best protection against the pain I felt Was to accept it

But my wisdom was useless to me

We love and we lose

And the dark night teaches to let go

And be honest of the natural emotional response And move on with life… yadda — yadda – yadda

The Gentleness Of Betty Ghent

Light enters into each of us When she is near

And we feel the gentleness of her.

She always smiles And makes us smile too.

I see her image, don’t you?

A touch of her hand Reassures us that she knows

And understands that we are gentle too. She has never forgotten Our names that she says

So sweetly, and oh so gently.

john casey 2/1/05

The Ghost of Debbie Blount

Debbie came down from Mexico Ared blanket draped over her shoulders. She carried a pistol in her left hand And vowed to shoot her man.

‘Shes had been wronged And she was looking for revenge. Shewas ready forthe lll, She wanted him dead and still.

Debbie was determined She looked mean that day. Nou could see it in her gait.

he wasn’t going to wait.

She found him at the saloon He was drunk and smelled bad. A\nd what she did to him Was sad, sad, sad.

The bullets had ripped his body And tore his soul apart. Now Debbie Blount

Could have another start.

The next time I say I love you It will be just to you.

Three little words

That I’ll whisper to you.

Twelve times many Will not be enough For me to tell you that “I love you.”

When I say I love you

It will be the first time. Then I'll say,

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

“I love you,”

“I love you, Clementine.”

The next time I say I love you

It will be just to you. Three little words That I'll whisper to you.

Twelve times many Will not be enough For me to tell you that “I love you.”

When I say I love you

It will be the first time. Then PI say,

“I love you,”

“T love you,”

“T love you,”

“I love you, Clementine.”

The original page will appear here.

The original page will appear here.

The Pilieated Woodpecker

The pilieated woodpecker Ts rather fancy and unique. They fly with a rhythm And a beat.

I have never held one And never want to, But I have seen one

In a snowstorm.

The Scorpion Eagle Rita Hernendez- Christenson

This Scorp can be unbelievably loyal and fiercely protective of anyone who has ever been kind to her.

Her true identity is that of a warm And loving friend

Capable of intense devotion

Who will always be there.

Scorps enjoy competitive sports And to this Eagle, not to win Is a cardinal sin.

Her man is still hers, so is his heart,

And every other part of him,

Including the most important part, his spirit. He comes home each night,

And kisses her on her nose each morning.

He’s a proud possessor

Of the deep devotion and thrilling, mystery of her. She greatly admires his honesty,

Though sometimes it wounds her vulnerable heart.

He woke up and learned to value This woman’s rare love.

She will never break his spirit, Or sky-blue dreams.

Her love is all consuming, concentrated,

And at certain magical and memorable moments, Deep-beyond-deep.

She is a secure port in a storm.

Happy Birthday, Rita Hernandez — Christinson

Pardon me for misspellings, etc…

John Casey 11-08-2001

THE SOUND OF RAIN Is it a dot, dat, dop Or a spack, spick, flick a flack a splatter, a plop, a duddle a splash or juddle

Straight down it comes a tiny ting, a zap, a bang Then like zigzagging bubbles on a window pane

Out we go to splash in a mess of mushy mud Will it wash off, who knows Line us up and spray us with a hose April 2007

Light There was no moon there were no stars Street lights are out

He gave a shout It wasn’t loud, He kicked on a door a light came on He heard a voice Come inside where it’s warm 722

Invisible Wind Have you ever seen the wind neither me, nor you When Limbs and leaves shake it’s the wind going through ‘Who has seen the wind Neither you or I When the wind is moaning, It’s just going by 9-23-22

THE SOUND OF RAIN Is it a dot, dat, dop Or a spack, spick, flick a flack a splatter, a plop, a duddle a splash or juddle

Straight down it comes a tiny ting, a zap, a bang Then like zigzagging bubbles on a window pane

Out we go to splash in a mess of mushy mud Will it wash off, who knows Line us up and spray us with a hose April 2007

Light There was no moon there were no stars Street lights are out

He gave a shout It wasn’t loud, He kicked on a door a light came on He heard a voice Come inside where it’s warm 722

Invisible Wind Have you ever seen the wind neither me, nor you When Limbs and leaves shake it’s the wind going through ‘Who has seen the wind Neither you or I When the wind is moaning, It’s just going by 9-23-22

THE SOUND OF RAIN Is it a dot, dat, dop Or a spack, spick, flick a flack a splatter, a plop, a duddle a splash or juddle Straight down it comes a tiny ting, a zap, a bang Then like zigzagging bubbles on a window pane Out we go to splash in a mess of mushy mud Will it wash off, who knows Line us up and spray us with a hose April 2007 Light There was no moon there were no stars Street lights are out He gave a shout It wasn’t loud, He kicked on a door a light came on He heard a voice Come inside where it’s warm 722 Invisible Wind Have you ever seen the wind neither me, nor you When Limbs and leaves shake it’s the wind going through Who has seen the wind Neither you or I When the wind is moaning, It’s just going by 9-23-22

THE SOUND OF RAIN Is it a dot, dat, dop Or a spack, spick, flick a flack a splatter, a plop, a duddle a splash or juddle Straight down it comes a tiny ting, a zap, a bang Then like zigzagging bubbles on a window pane Out we go to splash in a mess of mushy mud Will it wash off, who knows Line us up and spray us with a hose April 2007 Light There was no moon there were no stars Street lights are out He gave a shout It wasn’t loud, He kicked on a door a light came on He heard a voice Come inside where it’s warm 722 Invisible Wind Have you ever seen the wind neither me, nor you When Limbs and leaves shake it’s the wind going through Who has seen the wind Neither you or I When the wind is moaning, It’s just going by 9-23-22

Your voice is indeed magical,

or is it the words you FAYE, Either one is fine. They are the sounds I love every day.

I have listened carefully

for words and the sound of you. You are so easily on my mind, it's what I like to do.

When you’ laugh

the sound lifts me to a high. It's good to hear you laugh | and I love to hear you sigh.

Your footsteps are quiet and the rustle of your skirt

only makes me want to hold you close and deliciously hurt.

‘I can almost hear the wind

that blows through your hair. And when you hold it up and drop it it makes something within me care.

You can cuss and cry,

and I believe you can shout and yell.

But your voice and sounds

are wonderful, that's all I'm going to tell. JRC 6-9-98

The sound of you

Your voice is indeed magical, or is it the words you say? Either one is fine.

They are the sounds I love every day. oe 4

I have listened carefully fe eae for words and the sound of you. . s You are so easily on my mind, it's what I like to do.

When you laugh

the sound lifts me toa high. It's good to hear you laugh and I love to hear you sigh.

3 Your footsteps are quiet o™ and the rustle of your skirt only makes me want – to hold you close and deliciously hurt. _

‘I can almost hear the wind * that blows through your hair. 7 A

And when you hold it up and drop it :

it makes something within me care.

You can cuss and cry,~

and I believe you can shout aoa yell.

But your voice and sounds 5ct

are wonderful, that's all I'm going to tell. E JRC 6-9-98 ‘ * eke ee

Wanted (but not much) but no reward

THE STRAWBERRY BANDIT AKA “Short Cake” This extremely accurate drawing was completed

By SKYE. 11/10/12

Note: hair may be darker some days.

Other aliases:

Celery Stalker Orange Slicer Potato Masher Bean Snapper Tomato Juicer Corn Picker Carrot Cruncher Plum Bobber Grape Stomper Cherry Pitter Mushroom Marauder Cantaloupe Conniver

Known for uncommon attraction to vegetables and fruit

Sometimes armed with paring knives & forks Often seen without a napkin or even a plate when consuming large quantizes of prized foods

Recently seen at: Farmer’s Markets Produce section of grocery stores Gardens Near refrigerators

The Test Don’t get me wrong, I know Beauty is only skin deep and ugly is in the eye. But to find out if you’re my kind of gal Here’s a test you can give a whirl.

I like style, like jeans That zips up in front not the sides. You won’t find me on a leash And give me a cast-iron skillet for my fish.

Enough to eat, something to chase, Shade in the summer, and someone to scratch my ears And pay attention now and then Won’t make me envy the dog.

I soak up dents of every day life

Of wrecks that seem to happen

When I take risks or go too fast. I promise, I’ll do it again.

I like someone who will be a companion, Who listens and is connected to a part of nature. Someone who appreciates a sunny day,

A stiff wind and a kind word.

When I’m wrong or banged up You don’t hold it against me, But doctor me up And send me back out there.

And on those days when rain Or snow gets in the way You’ve learned to take it easy, Heck, there will be another day.

You’ve got a sense of humor, Yeah, you revel in a simple life And can sit by a fire poking embers Gaining insight and wisdom and what’s right.

You’ll never lose your sense of dignity And have enthusiasm you can’t pretend. I know you’re on a journey Too hard to comprehend.

I’ve never wanted too much, Well, perhaps a bit more bounce, And when all is said and done, It isn’t, cause we’re having so much fun.

Jre

The Test Don’t get me wrong, I know Beauty is only skin deep and ugly is in the eye. But to find out if you’re my kind of gal Here’s a test you can give a whirl.

I like style, like jeans That zips up in front not the sides. You won’t find me on a leash And give me a cast-iron skillet for my fish.

Enough to eat, something to chase, Shade in the summer, and someone to scratch my ears And pay attention now and then Won’t make me envy the dog.

I soak up dents of every day life

Of wrecks that seem to happen

When I take risks or go too fast. I promise, I’ll do it again.

I like someone who will be a companion, Who listens and is connected to a part of nature. Someone who appreciates a sunny day,

A stiff wind and a kind word.

When I’m wrong or banged up You don’t hold it against me, But doctor me up And send me back out there.

And on those days when rain Or snow gets in the way You’ve learned to take it easy, Heck, there will be another day.

You’ve got a sense of humor, Yeah, you revel in a simple life And can sit by a fire poking embers Gaining insight and wisdom and what’s right.

You'll never lose your sense of dignity And have enthusiasm you can’t pretend. I know you’re on a journey Too hard to comprehend.

I’ve never wanted too much, Well, perhaps a bit more bounce, And when all is said and done, It isn’t, cause we’re having so much fun.

Jre

The Test Don’t get me wrong, I know Beauty is only skin deep and ugly is in the eye. But to find out if you’re my kind of gal Here’s a test you can give a whirl.

I like style, like jeans That zips up in front not the sides. You won’t find me on a leash And give me a cast-iron skillet for my fish.

Enough to eat, something to chase, Shade in the summer, and someone to scratch my ears And pay attention now and then Won’t make me envy the dog.

I soak up dents of every day life

Of wrecks that seem to happen

When I take risks or go too fast. I promise, I’ll do it again.

I like someone who will be a companion, Who listens and is connected to a part of nature. Someone who appreciates a sunny day,

A stiff wind and a kind word.

When I’m wrong or banged up You don’t hold it against me, But doctor me up And send me back out there.

And on those days when rain Or snow gets in the way You’ve learned to take it easy, Heck, there will be another day.

You’ve got a sense of humor, Yeah, you revel in a simple life And can sit by a fire poking embers Gaining insight and wisdom and what’s right.

You’ll never lose your sense of dignity And have enthusiasm you can’t pretend. I know you’re on a journey Too hard to comprehend.

I’ve never wanted too much, Well, perhaps a bit more bounce, And when all is said and done, It isn’t, cause we’re having so much fun.

Jre

ended 4 Fhe Week

Shadows, which had been dotting and Stripping the ground While the sun was around, Take over and make them disappear As light leaves the land

This is the tim

Filter from deep c They come from wit | linger while nigh

when creatures

‘Over to feed and drink. hin the same woods Pm in. it turns the day inside out.

A deer Steps into the corn stubble, Then another, and another, their steps unheard. An owl from an un

known distance hoots Out taps for some, reveille for others,

Cardinals, thrushes and tiny twits of chickadees Bounce from ground to limb to bush Before disappearing into the Thick cedars for the night.

Squirrels head home to nests and dens And raccoons head for the creek. Geese above with voices first, then cries Float above in the high winds | can’t even feel.

Quickly enough the orange fades as wo But at that moment The colors of the sky and autumn oaks

Flicker on the stream Surface.

uld white in the sky,

This is the time | think about, Admittedly, myself, but also Of friends and family too and What happened that day in the woods. As the sun dips below the uneven ridge of trees glow in the west gives enough light rail back to the gravel road leading home

! am washed by the surety and strong power of the ending day

© Gartner Studios

The world is a pretty big potato, It’s a planet,

And to miss it with a stick you lift higher than your elbow You'll miss it and the ball that’s standing next to you. That’s some indication of the diffulity you’ll face.

Addressing a golf ball is to stare at it meaningfully, And golf rhythm is everything

It’s easier to teach someone with no talent

Than one with talent and bad habits

My backswing is rough

But with my elbow pointing at my shoulder Hip, ankle, ball and the third star past the moon It’s definitely a half a swing nearly

If I were trying to swim I’d drown.

But, drowning with intent

Tf you start caring,

This golf thing will give you more pain than pleasure And the real bummer is that improving

Won’t diminish the misery

It’s a game of ceaseless torment With brief flashes of possible contentment That are cruel illusions

Putters that look like veterinary equipment Are brandished by golfers

Who think nothing of stripes and plaids On their shoes even. It’ anti style.

You get to wear one white glove Like a Michael Jackson impersonator. And trousers that Simon Cowell Would wear covering up a hernia spot.

It’s like the bottom of the barrel pickings. The trick is to play Michael Jackson, not be Michael Jackson

No sport has spawned more juju and voodoo,

Lucky junk ticky-tack gizmoos

Tastelessness Strap-on miracles, plastic coins with filty names And lazer red-dot rifle sights

Trying to hit an egg-size ball

THERE WAS A WHO LIVED

He had wonderful parents nd many brothers and sisters.

and courageous.

A ie left the hill in that small village

to find out about the world.

He found out about many things: how to make friends how enemies are made how to make money & spend it where to go what to do who was who and what was what- but not always.

He wanted to find something, someone, somewhere, someday. "He searched high and he searched low. | He found trouble sometimes and

somewhere.

He found success sometimes too.

He wanted to know who, too.

He had many trials and tribulations, whatever those are. He became older, mind you, not old, just older.

He thought he should be smarter and wiser and the something,

somewhere, someone would be

easier to find.

He found out about many things: Friends and acquaintances; Money does not make happiness, but it is comfortable having it when you are looking; 4} Paradise may be a moment and not a place; ‘And the Who, well, he thought it was: this person, that person, over here, over there,

and you know what?

Tt was him all along. You see, he was looking all the places where he thought he would find something, somewhere, sometime and someone. He looked inside himself and found himself.

‘That was before you and now what? ar Life! It goes on. i 4

On a hill,

"in a small village.

_ He had wonderful parents and many brothers and sisters. He grew strong

and courageous.

He left the hill in that small village | to find out about the world.

He found out about many things: how to make friends how enemies are made how to make money & spend it where to go what to do who was who and what was what- but not always.

~ He wanted to find something, someone, somewhere, someday. He searched high and he searched low.

He found trouble sometimes and

somewhere.

He found success sometimes too.

He wanted to know who, too.

He had many trials and tribulations, whatever those are. He became older, mind you, not old, just older.

He thought he should be smarter and wiser and the something, somewhere, someone would be

easier to find.

He found out about many

things:

Friends and acquaintances;

_~ Money does not make happiness, but it is comfortable having it when you are looking; Paradise may be a moment and not a place;

) And the Who, well, he thought it was:

this person, that person, over here, over there,

and you know what?

~ It was him all along. You see, he was looking all the places where he thought he would find something, somewhere, sometime and someone. | He looked inside himself and found himself.

A That was Lefere yoland now what? Ont Life! It goes on. | z/41

a3 f-

THESE THINGS I KNOW. . I HAVE PLANTED A GARDEN, SO I KNOW WHAT FAITH IS.

I HAVE SEEN POPLAR TREES IN THE BREEZE, SO I KNOW WHAT GRACE IS.

I HAVE LISTENED TO BIRDS CAROLING, SO I KNOW WHAT MUSIC IS.

I HAVE SEEN MORNING WITHOUT CLOUDS, AFTER SHOWERS, SO I KNOW WHAT BEAUTY IS.

I HAVE SEEN THE MIRACLE OF SUNSET, SO I KNOW WHAT GRANDEUR IS.

AND BECAUSE I HAVE PERCEIVED ALL THESE THINGS, I KNOW WHAT WEALTH IS.

From Caper Magazine

Favorite Poem of Randolph Casey (taken from My History, May 1988, Randolph Casey)

THESE THINGS I KNOW. . .

I HAVE PLANTED A GARDEN, SO I KNOW WHAT FAITH IS.

I HAVE SEEN POPLAR TREES IN THE BREEZE, SO I KNOW WHAT GRACE IS.

I HAVE LISTENED TO BIRDS CAROLING, SO I KNOW WHAT MUSIC IS.

I HAVE SEEN MORNING WITHOUT CLOUDS, AFTER SHOWERS, SO I KNOW WHAT BEAUTY IS.

I HAVE SEEN THE MIRACLE OF SUNSET, SO I KNOW WHAT GRANDEUR IS.

AND BECAUSE I HAVE PERCEIVED ALL THESE THINGS, I KNOW WHAT WEALTH IS.

From Caper Magazine

Favorite Poem of Randolph Casey (taken from My History, May 1988, Randolph Casey)

They get stupefied, Sodden and tipsy, Stewed, and bombed. Crocked, loaded and looped.

They get pickled, plastered and potted, Sloshed, smashed and zonked. They falter and lurch,

Reel, stumble and tumble.

They're exceptional, extraordinary, and outstanding. They're aducious and bodacious, Prone to riot and rumble, And they’re pluck and game.

Uh-huh, it is so, They’re definitely not from a mold That you shape, bend or cast. They‘re true, frank, and their style will last.

They are wise crackers, Sauce boxes, flippant and whizes. They are rabid and create a commotion As they zip and zoom.

They’re cheeky, a fraternity, a union. They are ceaseless, constant, continual, Eternal, incessant, non-stop, ongoing, Perpetual, unfailing, and unique.

They're joined, linked and they back, Endorse, support, hold, meld, Elevate, hoist, raise, and advocate.

They're unending — they’re buds. John Casey — 12-26-02

aT This is who I am -This is how I live.

This is who I am- This is how I live.

Bloom where you are planted Watch a cat watch a bird to understand purpose and focus

Ask for what you want. If you don’t ask, you haven’t got a prayer. Why not ask for a miracle?

If you have the gift of today, you've got another chance to get it right. Move 27 objects in your home that haven't been moved in a year.

Lighthearted people possess the special gift to open up their hearts to turn on their creativity.

Acknowledge your secret life and tap into the wisdom of your alter ego.

Move away from what others expect of you and towards your own true identity. INTITUIT – Damit!

When your smile deepens, your laughter increases and your heart opens. Chocolate does not require an explanation.

Do not be discouraged by the thoughts of how much there is to learn. Don't forget that all you have is all you need.

You should write a song of thanksgiving for all the days that remain. Regard the small as important and make much of little. . Perfection leaves so little room for improvement – or joy.

To see takes time. Take time to more than glance around.

aT This is who I am -This is how I live.

This is who I am- This is how I live.

Bloom where you are planted Watch a cat watch a bird to understand purpose and focus

Ask for what you want. If you don’t ask, you haven’t got a prayer. Why not ask for a miracle?

Tf you have the gift of today, you've got another chance to get it right. Move 27 objects in your home that haven't been moved in a year.

Lighthearted people possess the special gift to open up their hearts to turn on their creativity.

Acknowledge your secret life and tap into the wisdom of your alter ego.

Move away from what others expect of you and towards your own true identity. INTITUIT – Damit!

When your smile deepens, your laughter increases and your heart opens. Chocolate does not require an explanation.

Do not be discouraged by the thoughts of how much there is to learn. Don't forget that all you have is all you need.

You should write a song of thanksgiving for all the days that remain. Regard the small as important and make much of little. . Perfection leaves so little room for improvement – or joy.

To see takes time. Take time to more than glance around.

Those who know do not speak Those who speak do not know

3 line poems

Twins Prove We Aren’t miracles

A sharp knife Scraped bees Off the bee keepers neck

Eight young Christians Were immersed To wash away a decade of sin

Silver rimmed glasses Hide grey eyes And mirth

Tattoos Say, “Stay the hell away”

Golfers complain About their misery And book another game

Not thinking, The hunter slapped A full tick on his neck

When you complain Of a head wound No one presses you for proof

Barbed vines Deliver scratches To berry pickers

Three line poems Are a challenge To you and me

3 line poems

Twins Prove We Aren’t miracles

A sharp knife Scraped bees Off the bee keepers neck

Eight young Christians Were immersed To wash away a decade of sin

Silver rimmed glasses Hide grey eyes And mirth

Tattoos Say, “Stay the hell away”

Golfers complain About their misery And book another game

Not thinking, The hunter slapped A full tick on his neck

When you complain Of a head wound No one presses you for proof

Barbed vines Deliver scratches To berry pickers

Three line poems Are a challenge To you and me

THUNDER, LIGHTNING, AND RAIN

When thunder comes rolling through | like to be quiet. It foretells rain is coming. Cloud lightning is splitting air then clashing with another cloud making thunder. A down pour may soon arrive and quiet chirping birds

The sky has darkened trees and dirt. The first drop of rain has started, coating leaves at random, then every leaf on the tree and ground below.

Birds are singing,”thank you,”

| enjoy being bare headed.

It’s raining harder now, just past a shower. The wind makes me scoot my swing deeper on the porch, now only my shins are damp and cool.

My only visitor today was my best friend. She told me in detail her companion and treasured dog had a hard evening and into the night. She painted words to describe her struggles. It saddens me.

| wish | had a cup of coffee and someone to set beside me as the thunder has passed me and the sky is getting lighter.

john – 2016

Asta Sudakalaus Hagar

T THUNDER, LIGHTNING, AND RAIN When thunder comes rolling through I like to be quiet. It foretells rain is coming. Cloud lightning is splitting air then clashing with another cloud making thunder. A down pour may soon arrive and quiet chirping birds The sky has darkened trees and dirt. The first drop of rain has started, coating leaves at random, then every leaf on the tree and ground below. Birds are singing,”thank you,” I enjoy being bare headed. It’s raining harder now, just past a shower. The wind makes me scoot my swing deeper on the porch, now only my shins are damp and cool. My only visitor today was my best friend. She told me in detail her companion and treasured dog had a hard evening and into the night. She painted words to describe her struggles. It saddens me. I wish I had a cup of coffee and someone to set beside me as the thunder has passed me and the sky is getting lighter.

john – 2016 Asta Sudakalaus Hagar

Touch (tuch) v. 1. to put the hand, finger, etc., on or into contact with (something) so as to feel it. 2. to feel, pat,

or tap, as with the hand or an instrument. 3. to come into contact with; be immediately adjacent or tangent to. 5. to consume or use (he rarely touches liquor.) 6. to have one's

own (he can't touch the money till he is 21.) 7. to move to gratitude or sympathy. 8. to deal with or allude to in speech or writing. 9. to succeed in attaining: the car touched 95 on level stretches. 10. to succeed in attaining or rivaling. 11.

to alter slightly the appearance of, as with a paintbrush or pencil. 12. to strike the sound keys or a musical instrument

so as to cause it to sound. 13. touch off, a. to cause to ignite or explode. b. to give rise to. 14. touch on or upon, to mention a subject briefly or casually; treat of in passing. 15. touch up, a. to make minor improvements in the appearance of. b. to modify or improve by adding or making slight changes. c. to rouse by or as by striking. 16. the sense by which an object

or material is perceived or known by contact with the body.

17. a qualify of an object or material, experienced when it

is felt; feeling; feel. 18. the act of touching. 19. an instance of touching or of being touched. 20. a relationship of communication: let's keep in touch. 21. a relationship of objective or sensitive understanding: out of touch with reality. 22. skill based on an acute tactile sense, sensitivity or perception of any kind. 23. a detail than enhances the quality of a work of art or the like. 24. the characteristic manner

of any person practicing an art or skill. 25. a mild onset of

an illness: a touch of fever. 26. a minute amount or trace of something. 27. Slang. a. the act of approaching someone for money as a gift or a loan. b. the money obtained.

Touched (tucht), adj. 1. moved; stirred. 2. slightly crazy; unbalanced.

Touchy (tuch'e), adj. 1. apt to take offense on slight provocation; irritable. 2. requiring caution, tactfulness or expert handling; precarious; risky. 3. sensitive to touch. 4. easily ignited as tinder. SYN. 1. testy, irascible, edgy, snappish, cranky.

Turning 60

It’s cool to be 60 Or so they say Just ask someone who knows That has had that day Like me

It’s fun to get to be 60 When the memories along the way Rush at you Just ask someone who has had that day Like me

Do you remember gathering mud or clay And making cars, trucks and tanks

Watching a spider Dropping from a twig Unwinding her silken thread And scurrying away on eight legs?

Doing something kind for an animal, Making a leaf boat for ants, Or letting Mr. Toad hop away into the grass?

What was the funniest thing you ever saw? If you only had one wish what would it be? Can you sing your favorite childhood song?

Lucky you — for the time of your life.

It’s tough to get to be 60 There are so many bumps along the way Just ask some who knows That has had that day Like me

But don’t ask me what 72’s like I haven’t got a clue But I know about 60

And today I’m thinking of you

Happy Birthday

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IT'S STRANGE There comes a time when Everything breaks free — and rules Look upSide down.

What's here is the best and [it/I] never go away. No one before You knew me more than me. But You have. I'll stay with You. I'll Change. It's Strange.

SEARCHING So, I moved from my small hometown in Illinois to places with more people than the Entire County. It didn't turn out so bad after all.

I met interesting people and had a Job. I was no roaring Lion, But not Exactly meek. I was going Somewhere I had no idea where. It was a search, I'll find You…

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UNEVEN PARALLEL BARS

Splinters piercing tender skin leaving jagged marks and blood streaming down limbs were my first visions of seeing uneven parallel bars up close — like from two feet.

Nina Bock, in a one-piece white gym outfit sprung up on the bars and began her exercise. I jumped back and watched as those bars contorted her lithe, graceful and well-muscled body. How did she flip so easily or stand on her hands for so long a time? She did a minute or so of exercise and dismounted and her feet hit the silver colored pad beneath the bars, her hands were out stretched and her head titled back. She was smiling. It was over like that and she picked up a towel from a bench nearby and said “Hi.” “Hi back.” I said.

I was dating a star gymnast who likely could beat me up. She was only 5 foot two at most and weighed about 100 pounds. Her body fat was about .0000911. She was a doll too. She had long blond hair done up in a pigtail, small ears, a sharp Roman nose, large soft lips and a chiseled chin. She was a model, she was a statue. I’m sure I have seen her statue at museums and in books – sometimes marble, sometimes metal. And she liked me best. I was proud.

Nina was also all about going to college for the right things — education, growing up, meeting people, and finding a niche in life. I really don’t know how I met her. I was a nerd without glasses or brains. Then, I can’t be a nerd can I? I’m shy, private, and unsure about meeting girls, especially beautiful women who could fly on a trapeze. She must have sat next to me at a student meeting. Maybe we had a class together, but I never saw her in my History or French classroom. She didn’t play Ping-Pong at noon at the Student Union Building. I didn’t go to the gym or to gymnast meets. But she popped up in my life one day and lit it up.

I said I would beat her up if she crossed me and hit her playfully on the shoulder. Her shoulder was solid. She hit me back. Her punch hurt. I told her to stop and tackled her. She went down but pinned me quickly. I tried not to smile, but my resistance was just enough for her to tighten her hold on me. All of her was pinning all of me. I never turned my head and saw the determination in her face, but also the merriment in her eyes as her hair braid fell to one side. Nina had me in her spell.

If ever a person was suited to having fun physically, Nina fit the mold. She could carry my books, but I carried hers. We went hither and thou and I became a regular at the gym that winter at college. Nina wasn't only good on the parallel bars, she was good on the rings too, and the side horse, and the uneven parallel bar. “That’s my girl,” I would tell anyone sitting close to me in the gym.

Nina had a gravely sexy voice to go along with that great body and looks. She could not recite poetry or sing lullaby’s, but her whisper could be heard across a room.

UNEVEN PARALLEL B

Splinters piercing tender skin leaving jagged marks and blood streaming down limbs were my first visions . of seeing uneven parallel bars up close — like two feet.

Nina Bock, in a one-piece white gym outfit sprung up on the bars and began her exercise. I jumped back and watched as those bars contorted her lithe, graceful and well-muscled body. How did she flip so easily or stand on her hands for so long a time? She did about two or three minutes of exercise and dismounted and her feet hit the silver colored pad beneath the bars, her hands were out stretched and her head titled back. She was smiling. It was over like that and she picked up a towel from a bench nearby and said “Hi.” “Hi back.” I said.

I was dating a star gymnast who likely could beat me up. She was only 5 foot two at most and weighed about 100 pounds. Her body fat was about .0000911. She was a doll too. She had long blond hair done up in a pigtail, small ears, a sharp Roman nose, large soft lips and a chiseled chin. She was a model, she was a statue. I have seen her statue at museums and books — sometimes marble, sometimes metal. And she liked me best. I was proud.

Nina was also all about going to college for the right things — education, growing up, meeting people, and finding a niche in life. I really don’t know how I met her. I was a nerd without glasses or brains. Then, I can’t be a nerd can I? I’m shy, private, and unsure about meeting girls, especially beautiful women who could fly on a trapeze. She must have sat next to me at a student meeting. Maybe we had a class together, but I never saw her in my History or French classroom. She didn’t play Ping-Pong at noon at the Student Union Building. I didn’t go to the gym or to gymnast meets. But she popped up in my life one day and lit it up.

oth . I said I would beat her up if she crossed me and hit her playfully on the shoulder. She hit me Wh Fo Her shoulder was solid, her punch hurt. I told her to stop and tackled her. She went down but pinned me quickly. I tried not to smile, but my resistance was just enough for her to tighten her hold on me. All of her was pinning all of me. I never turned my head and saw the determination in her face, but also the merriment in her eyes as her hair braid fell to one side. Nina had me in her spell.

If ever a person was suited to having fun physically, Nina fit the mold. She could carry my books, but I carried hers. We went hither and thou and I became a regular at the gym that winter at college. Nina wasn’t only good on the parallel bars, she was good on the rings too, and the side horse, and the jumping bar. “That’s my girl,” I would tell anyone sitting close to me in the gym.

Nina had a gravely sexy voice to go along with that great body and looks. She could not recite poetry or sing lullaby’s, but her whisper could be heard across a room.

I guess I was in a period of time that was hard for me to sort out just what I wanted and where I was going. It was the early sixty’s. That’s all I can say about that. ?)

Nina and I parted, there were tears in our goodbye.

When I see a statue of a Greek or Roman goddess or a marble statue of a beautiful woman I think of Nina. And when I see the Olympic gymnast perform, I think of Nina and know that she is watching it too. Somewhere there is a gravely voiced woman silently performing on the uneven parallel bars.

phe!

pow 4

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What did these women have in common? Me! I picked them. Redheads, blondes, brunettes? Yes, yes, yes. But all along, my picker was broken

Finally, finally, finding a woman I trusted I gave her a very intimate inventory of my life. She’s gone. And all along, My picker was broken.

So what’s the point?

The point is simply to live my life. Do what I love. Be the best I can be. And fix my broken picker.

Jre. 9-15-09

PAY ATTENTION Devote time to high-intensity, deliberate practice activities. Ata certain point, a person has to develop a personal commitment.

Think specifically rather than generally

Find assignments and push to do the things that must be done “Put the fish on the table” and confront reality

Doing what’s necessary often isn’t easy

Don’t give up too soon

Try to see the outcome without being overwhelmed

2/15/10

The snow keeps coming and I keep hunkered down and dress in layers when I venture forth. I’ve read all the books in the library and have eaten 27 different kinds of chili. My humor has worn thin. My hair is long, and my skin is pale.

My shoes are all polished and golf shirts and tee shirts are folded and resting. A new plan for my garden looks promising. I can’t wait to open my windows.

I looked at the rising sun this morning and it was barely past 7 a.m. How gorgeous. T'll stare at the new moon in the western sky before going indoors for the night.

Now is the time to trust men’s soul. Ah, tomorrow is only a day away. 2/07 827

x YY Valentine Be in the thick of life Zero in on what pleases you Reach out Have fun Let the kid out And creativity will flourish All you need is love

les going to rain An old barn With fresh cut hay,

A moldy corn crib, And leather harnesses on Nails ona stall brace |s comforting,

And warm When rain is coming And even better when the Rain hits the tin roof And makes puddles |n the hard uneven ground Outside the door. pIlbe looking for a rainbow

When the rain quits J

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x Y Valentine Bein the thick of life Zero in on what pleases you Reach out Have fun Let the kid out And creativity will flourish All you need is love

les going to rain An old barn With fresh cut hay,

A moldy corn crib, And leather harnesses on Nails ona stall brace

ls comforting A\nd warm When rain is coming, And even better when the Rain hits the tin roof And makes puddles |n the hard uneven ground Outside the door. pil be looking for a rainbow

When the rain quits J

The original page will appear here.

Vote for your favorite Valentines Day poem. These are actual entries to a Washington Post competition asking for a two-line rhyme with the most romantic first line, and the least romantic second line.

___1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:

Marrying you has screwed up my life.

2. I see your face when I am dreaming. That’s why I wake up screaming.

3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot: This describes everything you are not.

4. Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss, But I only slept with you ‘cause I was pissed.

5. I thought that I could love no other

That is until I met your brother. 6. Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you. The roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl’s empty and so is your head.

7.1 want to feel your sweet embrace, But don’t take that paper bag off your face. 8. [love your smile, your face, and your eyes. Damn, I’m good at telling lies. 9. My love, you take my breath away. What have you stepped in to smell this way? 10. What inspired this amorous rhyme? Two parts vodka and one part lime.

Who said Poetry is boring? Not me.

Valentine, I can not sleep tonight till I record an expression of the deep feeling in my heart for you. Ihave seen your bright eyes and felt your beating heart.

Your pure enthusiasm, the love of truth, honor, and love of others in your life, brightens mine. I will gladly share my last blanket, my last crust with you.

My boss

He never got tired hearing how marvelous he is. Fortunately, some of the praise is deserved, even if not humbly received. I am always glad to see him and hear him no matter whether his views and mine agree or not.

I know no man I would put above him.

Walk by me a little slower. All I am is my imperfest self All I am is my imperfect self Well, if S-h-u-g-g-a-r doesn’t spell sugar what does it spell? How about Lettis, inions, and susage?

inched 0 ee Wecds

Shadows, which had been dotting and stripping the ground While the sun was around, Take over and make them disappear As light leaves the land

This is the time when creatures Filter from deep cover to feed and drink. They come from within the same woods I’m in. I linger while night turns the day inside out.

A deer steps into the corn stubble, Then another, and another, their steps unheard. An owl from an unknown distance hoots Out taps for some, reveille for others.

Cardinals, thrushes and tiny twits of chickadees Bounce from ground to limb to bush Before disappearing into the Thick cedars for the night.

Squirrels head home to nests and dens And raccoons head for the creek. Geese above with voices first, then cries Float above in the high winds | can’t even feel.

Quickly enough the orange fades as would white in the sky, But at that moment The colors of the sky and autumn oaks Flicker on the stream surface.

This is the time | think about,

Admittedly, myself, but also

Of friends and family too and What happened that day in the woods.

As the sun dips below the uneven ridge of trees And the sky glow in the west gives enough light To see the faint trail back to the gravel road leading home 1 am washed by the surety and strong power of the ending day

© Gartner studios

When I see a colorful door I think of the talented air brush Artist, Kevin

I see the gifted Scott playing

Frisbee with his brothers

In the back yard

On Christmas Eve, I am reminded

Of baby Kent, the future turkey hunter That God loaned to all of us.

Memories come to mind

easily when you love someone

It takes only a minute. oie Cri

Jre 12/2011

e- Mikile ss By ilek 4 forms Oey = od PR

When You Go Away One day I was walking Amid whirly things Thinking Of the shy sweet smile Of a friend I will not see Again john Casey 2020

When You Go Away?

One day I was walking Quietly, thinking,

Amid whirly things

Of memories that cries

Out within me Demanding to exist as if alive

Keeping the memory

Of the shy sweet smile

Of a brother, a friend I will not see Again — in “this lifetime.”

john Casey March 26, 2011

Upon learning of Terry’s death

whg you never should:

attention like a child, pout; my anger can be wild.

d love you quite a bit.

od, if at times (J show my trembling side The anxious, fearful pact 7 hide

J wonder,

Will you be my friend?

Whe. when no one knows my name or calls me on the phone, When there's no concern for me —

What J have or haven’ done.

And those .,’ve helped and counted on ee so ‘silently run. Who when there's nothing left but me, i

Will you nonetheless remain? :

Who will not ran awag when you find me alone

And lying mangled hy mg defeats,

But will stop and stag and tell me of ‘another day.

Wiill you be my friend? ;

for no reason that ./ know, except ./ want it so.

Will you be my Friend

There are so many reasons why you never should I’m sometimes sullen, acutely sensitive But I will make you laugh And love you quite a bit

I’m more caring than strangers ever know And if at times, I show my tender side The soft and warmer part I hide I wonder, will you be my friend

Often I’m too serious, sometimes cold and distant I brag and seek attention like a child I brood and pout; my anger can be wild But I will make you laugh and love you quite a bit

And, if at times I show my trembling side The anxious, fearful part I hide I wonder Will you be my friend?

Who, when no one knows my name Or calls me on the phone When there’s no concern for me What I have or haven’t done

And those I’ve helped and counted on Have, so silently run Who when there’s nothing left but me Will you nonetheless remain

Who will not run away when you find me alone And lying mangled by my defeats But will stop and stay And be my friend

I will make you laugh, and love you quite a bit Will you be my friend For no reason that I know Except I want it so

Will you be my Friend? Will you be my friend? There are so many reasons why you never should: I'm sometimes sullen, acutely sensitive, My fear erupts as anger, I talk about myself too much But | will make you laugh And love you quite a bit.

I cry almost every day

Because I'm more caring than the strangers ever know. And if at times, | show my tender side,

The soft and warmer part | hide

| wonder,

There are so many reasons why you never should: Often I’m too serious,

sometimes cold and distant.

| brag and seek attention like a child,

| brood and pout; my anger can be wild.

But | will make you laugh

And love you quite a bit.

And, if at times | show my trembling side

The anxious, fearful part | hide

| wonder,

Who, when no one knows my name or calls me on the phone, When there's no concern for me — What I have or haven't done. And those I've helped and counted on have, so silently run. Who when there's nothing left but me,

will you nonetheless remain?

Who will not run away when you find me alone

And lying mangled by my defeats,

But will stop and stay and be my friend.

| will make you laugh,

And love you quite a bit.

For no reason that I know, except I want it so. i

S why you never should:

distant. attention like a child, pout; my anger can be wild. t J will make you laugh nd love you quite a bit. Aind, if at times .J show my trembling side The anxious, fearful part ./ hide JJ wonder, Will you be my friend? Whz-. when no one knows my name or calls me on the phone, ‘When there's no concern for me — 5 ‘What J have or haven't done. Ard those ve helped and counted on have, so silently run. Who when there's nothing teft but me, i Will you nonetheless remain? Who will not run away when you find me alone Ard lying mangled by my defeats, But will stop and stag and tell me of another day. Will gou be my friend? | for no reason that ./ know, except .J want it so.

Will you be my Friend? Will you be my friend? There are so many reasons why you never should: I'm sometimes sullen, acutely sensitive, My fear erupts as anger, | talk about myself too much But | will make you laugh And love you quite a bit.

I cry almost every day

Because I'm more caring than the strangers ever know. And if at times, | show my tender side,

The soft and warmer part | hide

| wonder,

Will you be my friend?

Will you be my friend?

There are so many reasons why you never should: Often I’m too serious,

Sometimes cold and distant.

I brag and seek attention like a child,

| brood and pout; my anger can be wild.

But | will make you laugh

And love you quite a bit.

And, if at times | show my trembling side

The anxious, fearful part | hide

I wonder,

Will you be my friend?

Who, when no one Knows my name or calls me on the phone, When there's no concern for me ~ What I have or haven't done. And those I've helped and counted on have, so silently run. Who when there’s nothing left but me,

Will you nonetheless remain?

Who will not run away when you find me alone

And lying mangled by my defeats,

But will stop and stay and be my friend.

| will make you laugh,

And love you quite a bit.

Will you be my friend?

For no reason that | know, except | want it so. j

Individually they're not much Tall or short

or long.

Leav a letter out

addd one more

and what have you got?

New words or jumble?

Taste a peach. Touch a rock. See lightning. Hear thunder Smell rain.

Words are our life.

They bring us together

and keep us apart.

Your words, my words

are similiar but not alike.

I need them you don't.

You need them, I don't. Hello, hi and how are you? I'm fine thank you, how about

Words escape us

and we say too much

or too little

and sometimes too late.

I wish I had said that.

John 6-23-98

you?

YELLOW EASTER FLOWERS

I ate 13 yellow Easter flowers one day

The first one on a dare

Bootsie dared me and I dared her back

She ate one, so did I

It tasted rather good

We ate another

She quit at seven. I finished 13

We went inside the school house

The day was warm; the windows were closed

I felt a rolling sensation in my tummy

My eyes would not focus

My hand went up — number two

The teacher didn’t see me

Her eyes were on pale Bootsie

Who had brought her flowers up

They yellowed the desk and floor

The sight was too much for me

I leaped from my seat and headed for the door There on the porch I emptied

In plain sight were hundreds of bright yellow Easter flowers

John Casey — written in 1996

The place was Tunnel Hill, IL (Johnson County). The year was 1949 and we were in the 3" grade. The school was a one-room coal heated building. There were a total of 32 students. 8 were in our class. Bootsie (Ann Conroy) often wore white boots to school. We were told that Easter Flowers tasted like cabbage. That was just cruel.

YELLOW EASTER FLOWERS

I ate 13 yellow Easter flowers one day

The first one on a dare

Bootsie dared me and I dared her back

She ate one, so did I

It tasted rather good

We ate another

She quit at seven. I finished 13

We went inside the school house

The day was warm; the windows were closed

I felt a rolling sensation in my tummy

My eyes would not focus

My hand went up — number two

The teacher didn’t see me

Her eyes were on pale Bootsie

Who had brought her flowers up

They yellowed the desk and floor

The sight was too much for me

I leaped from my seat and headed for the door There on the porch I emptied

In plain sight were hundreds of bright yellow Easter flowers

John Casey — written in 1996

The place was Tunnel Hill, IL (Johnson County). The year was 1949 and we were in the 3" grade. The school was a one-room coal heated building. There were a total of 32 students. 8 were in our class. Bootsie (Ann Conroy) often wore white boots to school. We were told that Easter Flowers tasted like cabbage. That was just cruel.

You are the earth, the sun, the moon and the stars. You are the mountains, rivers, trees, rocks, grass and flowers. But, unlike these things that do not care about me, you do.

A relationship can teach us about ourselves in an amazing mirror reflecting back at us. The image is sometimes distorted and sometimes perfectly clear. Sometimes we can see the darkness within us and others accurately reflect the light. It is the light that shines within you that reflects the image that I most love – about you and also about me.

It does not take much inner listening to know that there are manu voices: speaking, singing, shouting and whispering. Some voices speak, others show images. Some communicate through feelings and yet others through simply knowing. All of our voices are useful.

All of the things that I find about you – the loving, affectionate, caring, devoted, tender, wonderful, compassionate, beautiful, adorable, magnificent person are simply mirroring to me the loving, affectionate, caring, devoted, tender, wonderful, compassionate, beautiful, adorable, magnificent parts of myself, or the person I want to be because of you.

John 6-22-1998

I could hardly wait until morning and the time to call and talk to you and tell you these things.

You are the earth, the sun, the moon and the stars. You are the mountains, rivers, trees, rocks, grass and flowers. But, unlike these things that do not care about me, you do.

A relationship can teach us about ourselves in an amazing mirror reflecting back at us. The image is sometimes distorted and sometimes perfectly clear. Sometimes we can see the darkness within us and others accurately reflect the light. It is the light that shines within you that reflects the image that I most love — about you and also about me.

It does not take much inner listening to know that there are many voices: speaking, singing, shouting and whispering. Some voices speak, others show images. Some communicate through feelings and yet others through simply knowing. All of our voices are useful.

All of the things that I find about you – the loving, affectionate, caring, devoted, tender, wonderful, compassionate, beautiful, adorable, magnificent person are simply mirroring to me the loving, affectionate, caring, devoted, tender, wonderful, compassionate, beautiful, adorable, magnificent parts of myself, or the person I want to be because of you.

John 6-22-1998

I could hardly wait until morning and the time to call and talk to you and tell you these things.

You asked what J biked.

J want to bove you.

7 want to experience you. J want to Rnow you.

TJ want to smell you.

7 want to feet you

7 want to dance with you. 7 want to ery with you

J want to caress you.

J want to grow with you

It's going to take abl of the energies we have.

When I love you and you love me, we're like Each other’s mirror, and in reflecting in each Other’s mirror we see infinity.

Intimacy is where an “I” and “I” meet, And we share becoming Us.

We gain more and more “Us.” “You” always remain, “You,”

And “I” remain “I.”

We never disappear,

But we develop the “Us” together. That is our common bond.

“Us” gets bigger while the “You” And “I” get bigger and grow forever. Intimacy is that wonderful “Us.”

T like looking at you and vibrating. Laughing out loud with you.

The sound of your voice.

Smooth shoulders.

Moist lips.

Questions.

Hugs that crunch.

Being human.

Riveting eyes.

Touching you with any part of my body. Listening to you.

Hangups that make you real. Gentleness.

Counting

It's the sameness that brings us together, but it's newness that will keep us together.

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You're Ewergone’s Sunshine Morgan

You prance and skip along, And turn sad £ into song, You're everyone's sunshine.

You were making your life happy By capturing meaning and fun Of being yourself and letting go.

Darla was your sometimes friend Who was there when you needed her. Thope she never completely goes away.

Ofalll the girls I've know before No one can compare to you. You're everyone's sunshine.

Your eyes light up a room, Your smile warms all hearts, And your voice has lots of charm

You love to joke, Especially one you tell. You question everything.

You act and pretend, And you like to argue. You may say anything, al anylime to anyone.

You're preity in jeans and a Disney shirt, ‘And you look delightiul Ina bright dress and preity shoes.

You know some things float And some things sink. Life is light, and sometimes tough.

Thave seen you fall asleep, im in murky water, drink from a stream And catch fireflies and ladybugs.

You have laughed at me And scolded me, But you also held my hand.

You played games with me, Read (o me, drew pictures for me. And once you rode on my shoulder

And you even gave me Finger and hand prints to keep. ‘That's spe

T've seen you pout And even cry, and T've answered many of your whys.

T've scen you tumble, fall, And go down sliding boards backwa And always look forward to everything.

Morgan You are everyone's sunshine. "Phanks for being mine.

Homer 1-20-2002

AAR

L, 2aa2-

You're Everyene’s Sonshine Mergen

You prance and skip along And turn sad faces into sony, You're everyone's sunshine.

You were making your life happy HOR

By capturing meaning and fan

Of being yourself and letting go. a Za X2—

Darla was your sometimes friend Who was there when you needed her. Thopc she never completely goes away.

Of all the girls I’ve know before No one can compare (0 you. You're everyone’s sunshine.

‘Your cycs light up a room, ‘Your smile warms all hearts, And your voice has lots of charm

You love to joke, Especially one you tell. You question everything.

You act and pretend, And you like to argue. ay anything, al anytime to anyone.

You may

‘You're pretty in jeans and a Disney shirt, ‘And you look deligh Ina bright dress and pretty shoes.

You know some things float And some things sink. Lile is light, and sometimes tough.

Thave seen you fall im in murky water, drink ‘And catch fireflies

rom a stream, and ladybugs.

You have laughed at. me And scolded me, Butyou also held my hand.

You played games with me, fo me, drew pictures for me. And once you rode on my shoulders.

And you even gave me Finger and hand prints to keep. ‘That's special.

T've seen you pout And even ery, T've answered many of your whys.

T've seen you tnmb!

And always look forward to everything.

Borgen You are everyone’s sunshine. “Thanks for being mine.

Homer 1-20-2002

You, Paul and David Did not know where your next meal Was coming from. Our house, Paul's or David's.

I remember when you cried yourself to sleep In my arms The first night you spent in Mt. Vernon in 82. It was cold, the fireplace warmed us.

Ron Buckshot helped you build a car. It was a Grasshopper and you ran it endlessly Up and down Lake Park Drive.

You and I dressed up like Grocho MarX One Halloween night, And we practiced our line: "Say the secret word and win a hundred dollars."

We caught a squirrel But kept him only a day. We buried Cub beneath The dogwood tree.

I beamed with pride when you finished Jr. High And took your picture next to the Casey sign. I saw your graduation cap from Mt. Vernon High Sail into the air at the stadium. I shouted too!

I remember you as a little boy. A little kid, my pride and joy. You have grown strong and free, And you are still that joy to me.

Dad John Casey 10-30-2001

— 9/11/2001 World Trade Center

You, Paul and David Did not know where your next meal Was coming from. Our house, Paul's or David's.

I remember when you cried yourself to sleep In my arms The first night you spent in Mt. Vernon in 82. It was cold, the fireplace warmed us.

Ron Buckshot helped you build a car. It was a Grasshopper and you ran it endlessly Up and down Lake Park Drive.

You and I dressed up like Grocho MarX One Halloween night, And we practiced our line: "Say the secret word and win a hundred dollars."

We caught a squirrel But kept him only a day. We buried Cub beneath The dogwood tree.

I beamed with pride when you finished Jr. High And took your picture next to the Casey sign. I saw your graduation cap from Mt. Vernon High Sail into the air at the stadium. I shouted too!

I remember you as a little boy. A little kid, my pride and joy. You have grown strong and free, And you are still that joy to me.

Dad John Casey 10-30-2001

You, Paul and David Did not know where your next meal Was coming from. Our house, Paul's or David's.

I remember when you cried yourself to sleep In my arms The first night you spent in Mt. Vernon in 82. It was cold, the fireplace warmed us.

Ron Buckshot helped you build a car. It was a Grasshopper and you ran it endlessly Up and down Lake Park Drive.

You and I dressed up like Grocho MarX One Halloween night, And we practiced our line: "Say the secret word and win a hundred dollars."

We caught a squirrel But kept him only a day. We buried Cub beneath The dogwood tree.

I beamed with pride when you finished Jr. High And took your picture next to the Casey sign. I saw your graduation cap from Mt. Vernon High Sail into the air at the stadium. I shouted too!

I remember you as a little boy. A little kid, my pride and joy. You have grown strong and free, And you are still that joy to me.

Dad John Casey 10-30-2001