Should Last Year’s Grievances Be Forgot?–Library Carrel 5, 2021

Should last year's greivances be forgot?
And never brought to mind
Should last year's grievances stay right there
And just be left behind?

We love to hold on to what we hate
and those who done us wrong
But do we need the baggage still
to keep our grievances strong?

For hate like that is poisonous
especially to the hater
It will infiltrate your evey pore
Probably sooner rather than later.

Here We Come A ‘Tunnelling -Library Carrel 1, 2021

The inspiration for this carrel is a response to Teagan's Armadillo Files where we are currently on episode 16.

Here we come a  'tunneling among the clay so red 
Here we come a 'tunneling our imaginations fed 
By the plot and its twists 
Not a detail to be missed 
As we read of the shenannigans of Dilly and Fang
 and get to know new members of the gang. 

TROLLEY has delivered them to the hills of Tennessee 
During the time of World War II, parallel reality 
Nothing is  like it seems 
Are we in a waking dream? 
Where the plot is derived from ideas that we submit, 
What will we find when we reach the summit? 

The Trouble with Reflections

Have you ever gazed upon your reflection in either a mirror or in your thoughts?

Whether you gaze inwardly (thoughts) or outwardly (a mirror) what you see is a distortion. Your reflection is you backwards and reversed.

Am I distorted
or is that my reflection?
What is my truth
without interjection?
Do I have time
for a midlife correction?
Or do I need a 
new course of direction?

To myself
I try to be true
What works for me
may not work for you.
Trust in yourself
You're all that you've got
You'll always be with you
Believe it or not.

Coffee Shop Textures

Scuffed wooden bench catches the back pockets of my blue jeans 
as I slide into the booth
Sticky spot on the table's surface 
evades the cleaner's lick and a promise approach
A crooked fork tine gently stabs my lip 
unless I carefully place the syrup drenched waffle 
directly into my mouth
Disintegrating paper napkins cling to my fingers
rather than sop up any of the spilled coffee 
from the overflowing saucer set down by the waiter
The mostly cooked bacon
reflects the overhead lights
 in a glycerin pool of its own making
The greasy steam from the kitchen
coats my face like a food laden sauna
The crinkly dollars refuse to fold smoothly
so the people behind me in line shift impatiently
from foot to foot while I fumble
to put my billfold into my purse.

A Day to Wine About

​Crisp refreshing dawn the straw color of sauvignon blanc
each breath an intoxicating sip 
that stirs the blood and makes a morning walk a joy

Morning progresses to the richer warmer  sunshine of un-oaked Chardonnay
effervescent air tickles when inhaled deeply
energy pulses with each invigorating breath

Enveloping light and warmth of an oaked chardonnay noon
carries the smell of pumpkins and apples 
as the light breeze rubs against my skin like a cat
chilling out with out the early morning chill

Rich honeyed warmth in the late  afternoon, 
light the color of  petit manseng dessert wine
mindfulness to capture the warmth and mellowness of an autumnal afternoon
to replay during the cold grey winter days ahead.


The Antiquarian Contrarian

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.

Noah Waiting for the Roofers

The rains are coming
Not a flood of biblical proportions
but enough for the meteorologists
to warn
"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.

The Woes of Woo

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.

To the Men Who Fly

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.

“World War II in full force” by Lauri Väin is licensed under CC BY 2.0

The Good-bye Kiss

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
was resurrected.

Not enough!
their senses cried
so the pair
went back inside.

May 8–Day Before Mother’s Day

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?