The Best Workday Is as The Best Workday Does

November 15, 2013November 14, 2013 ~ John W. Howell ~ 20 Comments

Friday is the day we have been waiting for. We started out the week on Monday and made some personal notes to self that we would never ever party like a rock star again. Look at us today. We are working our duff off so we can go out tonight for another meeting of the Bacchus Brothers Social Club. WHAT IS WRONG WITH US ANYWAY? Did we not learn a valuable lesson last week? Did we not make it home in one piece? Did we not swear to the ceramic deity that we would never cast major dispersion onto the still waters again? Yet here we are looking anxiously forward to another Friday night and weekend. I think insanity has been described as repeating the same action expecting a different outcome. Okay so here is a question:

How many think that the number of drinks we had last week will not produce the same effect as before is we do it again this week? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? *Crickets*

I thought not. Of course the answer is, the same number of drinks in the same amount of time will produce the same results. You know the results:

Speaking into the ceramic microphone.
Calling train arrivals such as, “Poughkeepsie,” and “Pittsburg.”
Walking around with a headache so big you wish for bolt of lightning to take you out.
Hands shaking so bad people think you’ve got at least three of each.

Well, since we never learn, here is a little Haiku to help you through the weekend.

Find the light today,

Yesterday is not too clear. . .

Tomorrow is life.

Have a great weekend.

Lucy is as Lucy Does

August 7, 2013August 6, 2013 ~ John W. Howell ~ 23 Comments

I wrote this poem a while ago when we rescued our Boxer named Lucy. She had been run over by a car and needed tender care. Today she is a happy, healthy, joy filled dog. She loves life and humans and I have always wondered why someone would turn her loose. So this poem is my humble way of recognizing the strong heart of this beautiful fur child. There is no special reason to post it now other than I feel very fortunate to have her in my life.

She started her life as a battered child,

Let loose on the streets and hit by a car.

It was not her fault since she knew nothing,

Of what a ton of steel on wheels could do.

She is all white with two brown spots,

And recovered with the best of care.

She is friendly and kind without a single trace,

Of the hatred that she could rightfully show.

Whoever turned her out to live or die on the street,

Is the unfortunate one for not having her love each day.

They are the poorer for having been denied,

The joy, love, happiness and life of Lucy.

Every day she is ready to share in living,

With the innocence born of security and love.

Eternal is as Eternal Does

July 23, 2013July 22, 2013 ~ John W. Howell ~ 20 Comments

This is not meant to be a dark post and no one has died causing a prompt. I was sitting editing my book and started to think on some of the burning questions of the day. One question which mankind has been asking ever since crawling out of the swamp, “is this all there is?” So here is the same question but adding in the subtle ritual that we have come to know so well. Hope you like it.

When people pass from the living to non,

To comfort ourselves we have ways.

We meet to talk about the one not there,

And convince ourselves of a life well lived.

It is not enough to simply believe,

That the time on Earth is all there is.

We talk of the soul as if it is real,

And feel it is with us as we talk.

We implore that the spirit will gently slip,

To eternal rest for well-earned peace.

We believe a higher purpose is in store,

By Subscribing to a more righteous plan.

We pause and consider destiny as,

More than just living on this Earth.

Is it? You ask with hopeful eyes,

No one knows how to answer you.

Dream is as Dream Does

July 19, 2013July 18, 2013 ~ John W. Howell ~ 19 Comments

I have always been fascinated by the power of dreams. Many of my short stories deal with the idea that the dream takes on very realistic attributes. Sometime we are not sure if it was real or not. This little poem attempts to capture the feeling. I hope you like it.

You wake up and are sure it was real,

A forgotten paper that was due in Psychology.

As hard as you try there is no way to explain,

It is fifty percent of the grade for the term.

You feel panic as the realization hits,

There is no way to recover this error.

A story is made up to explain,

That the paper was mailed and must be late.

Situations in dreams make a lot of sense,

In real life, dream logic folds like a circus tent.

The professor accepts the mailed in story,

But then asks for a copy of that cursed report.