Category Archives: College memories

STRANGER THINGS…

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Stranger outcomes happen,

When opportunity’s tapping,

Wanting in

And you begin

Writing ideas you’re trapping!

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He’s written ’bout Christ and trains–

Weather seems worth one’s pains….

Fashion poems are new

As something to do,

And the challenge takes working brains!

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I’d say it is channeling energy,

Most of which has left me….

Shapes and sizes

And stylish surmises,

Still need a bard’s entrée.

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“An eye for the women.” one said,

Focusing on their clothes instead..

“Clothes make the man”

And women, and can

Leave little more to be said!

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YET–a poet describes,

Details that emanate vibes…

Along a track

That likes feedback,

Both positive and wise!

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–Jonathan Caswell

 

 

 

POET…AFTER (A) FASHION!

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He calls himself “fashion poet”,

One or two others know it…

In pursuits

Avoiding lawsuits,

He certainly doesn’t want to blow it!

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Him being man and all,

Must carefully judge his call…

With less passion

Than stereotypical fashion,

Not being the Beast at the ball.

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Gender matters to him,

Especially if women…

They’re the kind

He most has in mind,

Do they mind if he tiptoes in?

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–Jonathan Caswell

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

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People we miss and love,

Missing or taken above…

Oh how we miss

Their joy or hiss,

Their gentle comments or rough!

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Among them is Esther Ling,

She was in the lesbian thing…

Opposite were we

But she was a Mommy,

Ran to her when figuratively I needed mothering!

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Numerous friends I had in school,

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

Some I drove away

Or ignored to this day,

Elementary through college kept only two

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Bloggers–many follow some not–

Never sure of how many give you thought…

Over a thousand mine

To whom I give little time,

Just a handful  of their blogs I’ve sought!

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Surrounded by my family we are,

Been slow to contact any (my par)…

Younger ones I don’t know

As familiar ones go,

What can I do, having delayed thus far?

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Does any of this make sense,

Is loss of your friends as immense…

I’m sure it is–

Friends we miss,

We remember  our friends in the past tense!

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–Jonathan Caswell

TRAPPIST FOODS

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When J. J. NISSEN folded,

My image of a bakery molded…

Its replacement too big

So I had to dig,

To see what research “beholded”.

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My past is in two places–

It one ever traces–

The lines of “me”

Diligently

For personal data chases!

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Massachusetts, New York State,

My two major windows of fate…

Born here

But raised over there,

Memories in both are great.

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One of my faves was Monks Bread,

A Trappist Monastery did…

And still does

The bread funds their cause,

Producing jams, jellies, plus all kinds of bread!

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A model flat against the wall,

Leaves hardly space at all…

Have to use what I have

Of plastic walls saved,

Modeling a bakery et. al.

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So I thought of TRAPPIST FOODS,

A catch-all title to use…

Producing bread

And conserves, I said,

Switching different train cars is a ball!

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Specifically, flour and fruit,

Corn syrup and sugar to boot…

Isn’t enough?

They brand other stuff,

The question of a brewery—moot.

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MONKS BREAD  from Western New York,

From that Trappist Abbey of course…

A college friend

Heading toward that end,

Found a wife and went in another!

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–Jonathan Caswell

CAFFEINE CONTRARY

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Consumers of caffeine strong,

Sometimes get it wrong…

Imbibe too late

Face the “all-nighter” fate,

Complete with great big yawn!

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–J.E.C.

HE DAYDREAMS…

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HE DAYDREAMS…ABOUT YOU!

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He’ll neer say directly

But he dreams of you…

Very introspective,

He dreams of you in blue!

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Green velvet brings out your eyes,

Pencil skirts would be great….

If help is needed to find a size

He’d gladly participate.

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Day dreams go only so far

Exciting although they be…

You are the height of his daydreams

Even if you he’ll never see!

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–Jonathan Caswell

FORD FOCUS-POCUS

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FORD FOCUS-POCUS

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A Ford Focus to rent,

It’s timing was heaven-sent…

Had to park,

Find things in the dark,

Like where was the headlight locus?

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Confirmed things in daytime,

Some lights had no reason or rhyme…

Dome reading lamps

Gave me cramps,

Keeping them on was a crime!

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Took the car back thee next day—

Maybe the dealer knew the way..

.It was connected

To the dash light switch detected,

The dealer knew what buttons to play.

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–Jonathan Caswell

MEMORIES IN THE MAIL

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MEMORIES IN THE MAIL
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A Lehigh Valley RS-3
Arrived in the mail…
N scale and weathered,
It brought back a memory trail.
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Of my college days
And of a certain friend…
Stubborn branchline trains
That were run until the end.
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David Fairbanks was
The church organist I knew….
Introduced by the Youth Pastor
We found the other liked trains, too!
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The Delaware, Lackawanna and Western
Was Dvid’s forte’…
Plus the Lehigh Valley
Ran through Cortland (NY), by the way.
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David, old as my Dad, or more
Was into D,L & W steam…
Which he photographed fron youth’
For me a pleasant dream.
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He took pictures of “those diesels”
But a foamer he’d always be…
Which was perhaps an acquired taste
For such as young as me!

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Still he shared his bounty
With a young diesel man like me…
Copies of his pictures
And of others he’d give gladly
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He had an “O-27” layout
In his basement down the stairs…
After admiring and running it
We came up to sample fresh eclairs.
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He was a tidy man who never married,
Taught piano on the side for change…
If he had a lesson scheduled
My visiting time rearranged.
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Last time I was up his way
David Fairbanks was gone…
But thanks to a local society
His history will live on.
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He’ll be playing the organ for his Lord
For perpetuity…
And I suspect when I get there
He’ll remember me.

–Jonathan Caswell