Saturday, August 22, 2026

IT’S JUST SO TOTALLY HEART-BREAKING

 

They’ve lost their parents, they’ve lost their homes: orphans and destitute, displaced people needlessly accumulate in lands far, far away [and through no fault of their own]. Yet, there’s someone who takes no interest in such human suffering, for he was born without empathy. It seems he’d much rather boast about his ill-gotten wealth, embark on self-serving vanity projects, host car races, and impose hefty tariffs than study the tragic consequences of war and the plight of the poor. Although this sentiment could easily apply to other foreign leaders, my criticism is aimed closer to home. As well, if there’s truly a place in the after-life called ‘heaven’ where one is finally able to acquire the unvarnished truth about everything, what must his late mother think of his debacles? It’s said that the pen is mightier than the sword… Accordingly, I write:


MARY’S LAMENT TO ( a different ) MARY










Oh Hail, Holy Mary!

Of infinite grace!

Please kindly relinquish

This man’s roguish place.

 

I wished for a son

Who would make me soooo proud;

Instead, I got this one:

Brash, crass, coarse and loud…



His grown sons are greedy;

His wife’s called a whore;

His rambling-rant speeches

Are false to their core.

With faults so egregious,

[Where do I begin?]

Giving birth to this fool

Proved the ultimate sin!!!



Saturday, August 15, 2026

TAKING A KNEE AT 54th STREET:

                                

Count me in…

             


 































Greed kills people in many different ways; greed is not ‘good’…correct?

Thursday, August 6, 2026

Ode To The Eighth Month

 

MY Ode To The Eighth Month


Those first weeks of August,

Earth holds them quite dear;

Soft winds trace the meadows,

The sun’s chandelier

Stares down trodden pathways

Where sand-castles veer…



New sunflower seedlings;

Through rain, hearken cheer;

Cool drops splash pale petals,

Bright rays wipe things clear…



Blue waves gather seashells

As seagulls shed tears;

No matter the mind trap,

The road’s always here…












        If skies fade to russet

    Once autumn looms near,

    We’ll simply light candles

    And toast one more year !!


Poem written by L.P.-G. / 2026

Friday, July 31, 2026

JULY TURNS INTO AUGUST...and guess who's singing?

 



Their deafening cries

Often trouble our skies;

Such high-pitched,

Cacophonous wails!

I find their spent bodies:

[Discarded, dead armor],

Amongst dirty rags

And old pails…


Yet, tales wrung from nature

Make note of a feature

These creatures have

Harbored for years:

Their lives follow patterns

“Dog-day, or periodical”

Once known,

We can brace

Brittle ears!!

L.P.G. / 2026

Monday, June 1, 2026

JUST A ‘POEM’: WRITTEN FOR THE YOUNG CHILD

                                        I both KNOW and LOVE




 As a precious child,

You gathered rainbows:

‘Beautiful prisms

 In a curved pose’


 Perfecting their colors,

One by one,

You lifted their loveliness

 Back towards the sun…


Such arcuate grandeur,

Bejeweled by the moon;

Imbibes dappled star-light,

 Ignites threads of June.

I watch you swim softly

Through summer’s long stretch;

Moonbeams rouse fireflies,

But none could we catch…


Daydreams turn vapid,

Grasping tendrils of dusk;

We hear twilight’s last breath;

(It’s parting seems brusque).


 When morning arose,

It brought taut, somber skies,

And hinted at mysteries;

Once sodden, twice dry.

In vain, I test secrets

That still pass us by;

Too small to summon cirrus clouds,

 We’ll never know why…

Poem written by L.P.-G.

                                                             c. June 2026

Saturday, May 23, 2026

WE MOST DEFINITELY REMEMBER THEIR VALOR,

   … as we surely should

                                                       



Such BRAVE folks:

We thank them!

Tough service merits praise!!

Their selfless acts

Of fearlessness,

Ensured more

Carefree days…



We honor those

Who fought for us,

With picnics and

Parades…

 

Patriotic songs

Are sung

And festive wreaths

Are laid…



Yet, Memorial events

In the “mitten state”

Are often marred

By rain…


Next year I’ll have

To venture south;

States, “north

Are too insane!!

Poem written by L.P.-G./ May 2026

Saturday, May 2, 2026

WHEN MAY-DAY TURNS COLD

 [and COLD it was!]


I ached for their fragrance

In May’s misty spray;

Yet, hope of a sighting

Soon withered to gray…


Not leaf, nor pale petal,

Would grace the damp day

As dawn flickered lightly

And waxed my dismay…


This sparked a recounting

Of Spring’s passion play;

But prized, purple beauties

Remained ‘tucked away’…


To endlessly seek them

Today, seemed in vain;

These lavender treasures

 Evade the chilled plains…

**********

I cherish an old tale

That still lines my brain:

Dear lilacs!

Sweet lilacs!

Please dance in the rain!!!

Poem written by L.P.G. / c. 2026

In honor of my late father’s birthday

[He would have turned 97 on May 1st]


As a small child, my late paternal grandmother often recounted [to me] the story of my father’s birth in New York on a day that she remarked “the lilacs danced and kissed the rain”. That said, a cold May surely has a way of delaying their beautiful, lavender-purple blossoms.

Wednesday, August 20, 2025

SO IT WAS LAST NIGHT THAT I HEARD

 

Jeffrey N*c*o*a has gone

to "fly with the angels"

He and his family were my very dear neighbors when I lived in Bloomfield Hills, MI from1968 through1978...

Too surreal that I was thinking about him on the exact day that he passed...this salient fact does make me believe that we're "all  connected" somehow...

I will never forget his incredible generosity in giving me his stereo system and two prized albums [Rolling Stones' Let it Bleed ; Cream's 'Best of Cream vol.2'] in the long ago summer of 1974.

I played those albums non-stop!


You are now joined with [mother] Dot, 'Old Grandma', [your sisters] Jean, Joanne, Joye, and Judy as well as [your dear niece] Pam.

**************************

P.S. Who could ever forget that scruffy dog of yours you humorously named 'Swindle" !

And I'm sure New York is a bit more lonely now...

Thursday, July 24, 2025

TRAGIC: YES, TO ME IT IS...

             

    Tragically, many Americans have come to 'bend a knee' at the altar of Mammon... i.e., an alter presided over by con artists, hucksters and outright crooks who hoodwink the ignorant via bogus promises of "wealth", security, and unfettered authority.


Yet, wandering through the travails of life, let us be forever mindful of creating more goodness than evil. As well, the "powers that be" should kindly dispense more happiness than gloom and more laughter than despair... [ just as the clown prayer says]. Indeed, I hope never to grow so 'big' as to not see wonderment in the eyes of an innocent child, or sparkle in the smiles of the aged. And if we are to become 'joyful clowns', it must be without silliness or mere frivolity....

Grant us the capacity to spread kindness, to bring authentic cheer, to make people happy, to dry their tears and make them briefly forget all the unpleasant things inescapably unfolding in their frantic lives...                       


    
 Also, may we place the trappings of life into proper perspective, including blind ambition and financial success. Humility is not a weakness, no matter what some deluded folks may tell you. Acknowledge those who have provided comfort and respite in the darkest of hours. We'll all come to our 'final moment' in life. And wouldn't it be magnificent to hear this sentiment whispered into the wind as we finally cross over: "When you made others smile, you made ME smile" ...

R.I.P.    R.G.P.

Born 5-1-1929; crossed over on 7-24-2009

Tuesday, July 1, 2025

UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR:

                        

There are no 'true' winners here

I've added my own version [below] to the throwback lyrics of the Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young hit; in other words, it's no longer about Kent State:

 

 [Chorus]:


Rage smolders and Bryan's gunning,

He truly acts on his own;

Come morning, the scene is stunning:

'Four Dead in Idaho'

[Verse]

When you get down to it,
Incel is partly to blame:

Should have been trashed long ago;
What if you knew him,
Then witnessed that scene:
How can you run once you know?

When you get down to it,
Anger is also to blame:
Should have been dashed long ago...
One mental illness; now,

"Four dead on the ground"

How can we hide once we know?


[Chorus]

Rage smoldered and Bryan listened;

He finally felt all alone;

This summer he cut a plea deal:


Four Dead in Idaho

Four dead in Idaho

Four dead in Idaho
**********************

Four dead in Idaho
Four dead in Idaho