Isn’t it strange that here in America,
our flag and our culture offend
so many different people,
but not so our benefits?

this causes one to wonder
how someone can proudly wave
the flag of another country,
but consider it punishment
to be sent back there.



your motives for doing

whatever good deed

you may have in mind will be

misinterpreted by somebody

then you will be misunderstood

by all those who always hold

their hopes under their hats

while circumstances being what they are

admitting failure would be of little benefit

yet many prefer that state


only a few hours remain ’til midnight
celebrations already underway ’round
our world as that special hour arrives
many countries and assorted cultures
look with anticipation to this year
that has come upon all ready or not
regardless of what religion we profess
or what superstitions control our lives
a new year is here that we must accept
by simply wishing everyone every where




our minds reach out hungrily for learning
often finding too little upon which to feed
memory holds more than many expect
knowing words is not knowing thoughts

when one lays awake at night
he thinks of many things
seeing one dream slide away
down distant hills and another born
some dreams come again and again

we walk upon lofty mountains at night
I bring sticks for our affectionate fire
we watch while flames embrace them
destroying that which they need and love

horse talk

Below is a sonnet taken from Cervantes’
classic work “Don Quixote of the Mancha”
A dialogue between Babieca,
Horse to the Cid, a Famous Conquerer of Spain;
and Rozinante, Don Quixote’s Courser

Bab: How haps it, Rozinante, thou art so lean?
Roz: Because I travel still and never eat:
Bab: Thy want of barley and straw, what does it mean?
Roz: That of my lord, a bit I cannot get.
Bab: Away, sir jade! You are ill-mannered,
Whose ass’s tongue your lord does thus abase.
Roz: If you did see how he’s enamoured,
You would conclude that he’s the greater ass.
Bab: Is love a folly?—Roz: Sure it is no wit.
Bab: Thou art a metaphysician.—Roz: For want of meat
Bab: Complain upon the squire.—Roz: What profits it?
Or how shall I my woful plaints repeat?
Since, though the world imputes slowness to me,
Yet greater jades my lord and Sancho be.