Category Archives: Caswell limerick poetry


He rarely attends now,

It’s gone and got diff’rent somehow…

He feels pushed aside

Not welcomed inside,

No one’s been direct with him, anyhow!

They used to go faithfully,

Found the spirit there strong and free…

The Pastor moved on

And a preacher took on

Things with his own personality.

With his circle of friends,

For our subject, being close to a pastor ends…

You know his pride

Didn’t like “outside”

But he wanted to attend.

Then he and his wife

Both saw ill health in life….


With others is sin,

And churned up internal strife!

The preacher/teacher and he,

(Too much alike?) weren’t happy…

It shifted into

“An authority over you”

Which wasn’t as healthy!

Various dissatisfactions

Led to complaints and  feigned actions….

Poor communication

Led to frustration,

In mutual distraction.

So now he stays at home

Sundays, with his wife alone…

No need to go

Taken for granted so,

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

Socially depended on her,

His wife, for communication stirred…

When she took ill

He didn’t have the will,

To see that his opening up occurred.

He’s given his life for her,

Literally as it were…

Goes it alone

Reaching out he’s done,

Elsewhere–little left at “home”.

Options to go elsewhere?

Feels bound by his wife–so there!

Decision paralyzed–

Easier to survive

By himself, ‘though few benefits to share!

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

–Jonathan Caswell






It’s not like he knew he would,

Do it to himself good…

Just that

In a matter of fact,

It’s what he understood.

Knowing his temperament,

He wasn’t quite innocent…


Made safely,

Less chance she’d fear the gent.

He’s saddened by the whole thing,

Knowing his own being…

Trying to place

Her in his space,

One-sided deal not working.

With vigor abated,

It’s easier to stay related…

To his one friend–

His Missus again–

No other targets anticipated!



**AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Name and circumstances changed to protect…the Author!

At a doctor’s office new to him,

Was coaxed by a welcoming wind…


His loins agreed,

On something he could not pretend.

All women his records reviewed,

By “Becky”** he was interviewed…

What can we say

Happened that day,

Or what the man construed?

Tingling in his loin muscles,

As if something need hustle…

Straight into being

A swell way of seeing,

The feelings he must tussle!

Becky–older but not old–

Formed in an attractive mold…

Dark red hair

All freckles were there,

Hands slightly wrinkled…but made of gold.

White lace skirt above the knee,

Smoothed down near constantly…

Lower affairs

Held enticing airs,

Blouse was brown in white polka dot seas.

Something in the way she asked

Her questions in doing her task…

All anticipating

Answers she was awaiting,

He openness wasn’t masked!

Highly welcome delights,

Gotten with Becky’s insights….

Tingles remained–

He never complained–

But kept himself in check and aware!  🙂

–Jonathan Caswell

PSALM 71:6

PSALM 71: 6

“From the womb You brought me out.”

Of that I have no doubt…

You are my Refuge

Without subterfuge,

I’ll praise you Lord with whisper and shout!

The Lord Jesus felt that way,

To His dying day…

Resurrected then

Women and men

He asks to know God the same way!

–Jonathan Caswell

–Jonathan Caswell



Men don’t like to quit,

But boy, he surely reached it…

It was too hot

His legs were shot,

He’d done less than half of it!

Clearing out the car

Only so far…

MOXIE soda–

One sip it’s over–

He needed a cool water jar.

Disposal in three bags,

Arrayed on his cart (no tags)…

Making slow work,

Hardly a perk,

No shade nearby to bag!

He worked as long as he could,

Not quite as long as would…

As he wearily clopped

Was it too soon he stopped?

The whole of him didn’t feel good.

–Jonathan Caswell,



On good faith I bid on Ebay,

But funds went elsewhere to pay…


Everyone needs,

Evaporated fun money away!

I have to consider my fate,

Telling sellers they’ll have to wait…

For the next pay check,

One has to reflect

On one’s dubious financial estate.

–Jonathan Caswell



I’d written some poetry shared,

That countered the message prepared…

God’s Spirit negated

By the  X-rated

Was not what I wanted aired!

Two sisters in the Lord took me,

To task verbally…

For language offending

Their love extending–

They do like my poetry!

They said I’d a special gift,

The Most High God  to lift…

Words sometimes do

Get away from you,

Which needs more conscientious sift.

–Jonathan Caswell



This poet  will answer a call,

To write about baseball…

For a younger fan,

A boy who can

Probably explain it all!

The Duck Boat Parade he’s seen

And celebrated our team…

Our good old Red Sox

As a franchise rocks,

To visit them would be a dream.

With balls and strikes and runs,

Getting on base means moving your buns…

And stay away

From that double play,

The kind of cut off that stuns!

Will Big Poppy go another year,

Will “Sweet Caroline” prompt a new cheer…

Thousands of fans

Clapping their hands,

Distract the opposing team’s ears.

Maybe for some it’s just a game,

For true fans the answer is plain…

We will root and toot

til the Sox find the route

To the Pennant and World Series again!

–Jonathan Caswell





For feelings so deep-rooted,

It takes years before they are booted…

And replaced  by

A realistic eye,

Toward seing the old thought permuted.

It’s a failure so often until

One can rework their will…

My wife was the one

Over years to drum,

Into me and God’s love instill.

I have occasionally fallen,

My old nature comes a-calling…

Myself I must remind

I’m not the crappy kind,

But a child of the King…not a dog run!

One more thing I should note,

None of us can be a hermit billy goat…

Don’t push folks away

When they try to stay,

Gonna need them to cross your heart’s moat!

For you, what can I say,

As God is my witness I pray…

Please listen to friends

Who encourage you no end,

So you will be convinced one day!

–Jonathan Caswell



Some folks have nameless fears

About environs, careers…

Depression as well

Puts one through hell,

For things not totally cleasr.

For me it’s oft my blood sugar,

Feeling like this is always a booger…

Trouble defining

Lower-pitched whining,

Makes life a nasty cooker.

Making light of the pain

For others has its gain…

Keeping a smile

May lessen the pile

Of suffering in your brain.

–Jonathan Caswell