He was a man of firm opinions
he felt compelled to share,
strong in his belief
that was why God set him there.
He worked in a library
though not as a librarian
instead his co-workers knew him
as the contrarian antiquarian.
His many years had convinced him
that only his views were right
He'd never learned compassion
but he never missed a slight.
The rains are coming
Not a flood of biblical proportions
but enough for the meteorologists
"Turn around and don't drown"
if you see running water
on what should
be a street or sidewalk.
Meanwhile, the ark has a hole in its roof
so where are the roofers?
They have said they were coming each
morning this week.
Noah is getting impatient and
the animals keep running off.
June is bustin' out all over
All over the bodice of her dress
Old ladies stand around and gasp
While the guys would like to grasp
Her display of amplitude with a caress
June is busting out all over
Feelings are getting quite intense
The town is equally divided
No one is undecided
But gentlemen keep climbing on her fence
Because of June!
She really understand me, and that’s not easy.” –Brian
1. seek the favor, support, or custom of
2. try to gain the love of (someone), especially with a view to marriage.
Liz said she loves the “State of Woo”. She never defined exactly what that is but it seems to be when two individuals meet and are attracted to each other. Each day is a wonderful discovery into an unknown package of delights. You want to know what is in the package and unwrap each layer with anticipation and appreciation. Inevitably you fall out of woo and reality seeps in.
His tender looks start to glaze over or develop an acquisitive gleam.
Her soft laughter turns from trilling to shrilling.
What once enchants eventually annoys.
As projection of perfection morphs into perceived realities the idealized one no more exists.
Focus shifts from no faults to magnified imperfections.
Many people flee the decay of their fantasies without waiting to see if its replacement may be a more worthy object of affection.
Enjoy it while it lasts; the sun will set on the state of woo.
Reprinted with permission from the Scuttlebutt, Volume 6, Number 10, 20 May 2021, Carl Snow, Editor
To the Men Who Fly
Ralph G. Fallert was a WWII Navy Seabee. We presented his poem titled Scuttlebutt in our 16 July 2020 issue. The following verse was written overseas during World War II, while he was with the Seabees, briefly on American Samoa and then for a longer time on Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides. Following Espiritu came a period of about a year back in the States, then transfer to Armed Forces Radio Service and again assignment overseas—this time on Iwo Jima.
A graduate of Duquesne University and native of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Mr. Fallert spent 40 more years in broadcasting, including 18 years as an announcer on radio and 19 years on TV stations in Pittsburgh. We’re presenting another piece—one of the few serious ones he wrote during his active-duty service, To the Men Who Fly. His daughter, Christine Fallert Kessides, has consented to let us reproduce his poem.
Dedicated to the Airmen of World War II
You who tread the Milky Way And traffic with the stars Have wrought a bitter beauty In the cruel face of Mars.
You loose the pennants of the soul Against the wind and sky, And live the ancient dream of all Who ever yearned to fly.
You know the feel of freedom We covet in the birds – Like thought released forever From the fettering of words.
You wheel about the courtyards Of castles in the air, From whose great cloudy battlements The earth seems twice as fair.
You soar into the sunset, Are one with the stars at night, And we stare unbelieving At the miracle of flight.
From trammeling of earth you soar To the purity of space Where the soul drinks in a freshness Like a breeze upon the face.
You bear aloft a thousand hearts As singers do with songs, And make it seem that far from earth Is where the heart belongs.
But not for now the beauty, Not for now the joy, For now your skills are focused To punish and destroy.
But soon we pray is coming The peace for which we thirst, And of those who’ve earned its blessings You stand among the first!
Copyright 1989 by Ralph G. Fallert (b. 1914 d. 2002.) By permission of Christine Fallert Kessides.
As interpreted from the upstairs window as I was riding my stationary bicycle one morning
As he was leaving,
he knew he'd miss her
so he paused
to gently kiss her.
With one chaste peck
he touched her lips
It wasn't enough
he grabbed her hips.
Their kisses deepened
their bodies connected
a need for more
their senses cried
so the pair
went back inside.
Was your mother like Joan Crawford's Mommy Dearest?
Did she vacuum in pearls and high heels like June Cleaver?
Was her style more Mama Bear--hairy and swatting you when you needed it?
Was she a soccer mom with a minivan and elitist ideals?
Were either of you an accident of birth?
Do you worship the ground she walked on
or were you happier to walk away?
I have to tell you to your face
this is not the appropriate place
to celebrate Great Poetry Reading Day
You've read this poem, now slip away
to where the great poems may be found
by poets of more literary renowned.
He lumbers across the Florida golf course
snapping at any who dares cross his path
His bite is much worse than his roar or his hiss.
The sun warms his scaly back
but not his cold reptilian heart.
He doesn't care;
Nature made him that way.
He only sheds crocodile tears.
Key West is for the birds
so many different sounds are heard
Roosters crow any time of day
while pigeons coo, always on display
screeching gulls snatch fish or bacon
anything left out may be takin'
Squawking pelicans line the pier
whenever a fishing boat draws near
In the butterfly house on Duval
pink flamingos screech and call
while soft spoken doves are underfoot
along the path they quickly scoot
Waterfowl also quack and honk
Very at home in the Republic of Conch
So the first (and possibly most confusing?) part of World Heritage Day is that that actually isn’t it’s a formal name. What is popularly known as World Heritage Day is actually called The International Day for Monument and Sites and was established in 1982 by the International Council for Monuments and Sites, or ICOMOS. This organization was established on the principles set forth in the Venice Charter, otherwise known as the 1964 International Charter on the Conservation and Restoration of Monuments and Sites.
The organization was founded after a need was identified to protect these valued locations, and it saw the coming together of experts from hundreds of related fields. These include architects, engineers, geographers, civil engineers, and artists and archaeologists. Each year they work to help ensure that some of the world’s most beautiful sites and important cultural monuments remain preserved for future generations.
Since it’s inception it has grown to include almost 10,000 members in over 150 countries all over the world. Of these 10,000 members over 400 are members from institutions, national committees, and international scientific committees, all working together to save important sites and identify new ones that need to be added to the watch list.
In 1987, Monticello and the University of Virginia’s Academical Village were together named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
In 2021, the University of Virginia dedicated the UVA Memorial to Enslaved Laborers
Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.
~ Ellis Peters
Crocuses were the early explorers
establishing a beachhead amidst the melting snow
Daffodils sent up periscopes of leaves
before committing flower heads and blooms
Weeping willows wept tears of yellow green
flowing down long slender limbs
Grasses staggered their emergence
in scraggly patches of green and brown
Violets and vinca minor provided purple notes of color
Cherry blossoms reigned briefly before ceding
to the rapidly advancing red-buds and dogwoods.
Tulips provided the first notes
of saturated colors.
Late bloomers competed with the early iris.
Many trees are throwing up pollen
on cars, sidewalks, ponds, and membranes.
Other trees have the bare ends of winter.
Each wave approaches, swells, explodes, and then recedes
Followed immediately by the next wave of flowering plants.
rivulets merging with
creeks flowing into rivers
creating puddles and pools
until new thoughts
replace them in drips
It all flows downhill
tumbling over rocks
and occasionally themselves.