Day: November 27, 2019

 Grandpa went to church that day
 And said I’m sure I’m lucky
 Found a penny right on the road
 A lucky, shinning penny
  
 As if that’s not enough, 
 he said with a grin
 I later found a dime
 Just a block away 
 from St. Jude’s Church
 No rain on my parade
  
 Later that day he got a call
 A couple of bikes for sale
 Only five dollars each
 He bought them both
 Said it was a very good haul
  
 Things are going my way
 And my garden is doing great
 Just looked at it today
 Some of the best lettuce 
 I’ve ever grown
 If you could come in a week
 I will show you
  
 Grandpa grew apple balsam, too
 Mixed a little pulp with whiskey
 It’s the best darn stuff for anything
 But it was really used for dropsy
  
 Grandpa’s gone, but his stories live
 He was really quite the guy
 If only he was here to share
 I can only dream and sigh
  
 Stanski
 November27, 2019

 Writing without blogging 
 Stanski took a vacation
 A visit to his brother 
 in Punta Gorda, Florida 
 where he and his wife 
 will spend a couple of months
 For me it was just a few beautiful days
 We had a great time and 
 I was able to write quite a few musings
 I am back home and have a lot of typing to do
 My blog is back in action just in time, too
 I was beginning to miss you and for today
 I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving 
  
 Stanski
 November 27, 2019 ^ 

  
  
 Picker
 Packer
 Barker
 Plumber 
 Pauper
 Pirate
 Puppet
 Player
 Preacher
 Cowboy
 Doctor
 Chef
 Banker
 Logger
 President
 Poet
 Pawn
 King
 Farmer
 Sailor
 Pilot
 Conductor
 Engineer
  
 Who do you want to be?
 Be yourself
 Be the best you can be
 Keep dreaming
  
 Don’t give up
  
 Stay real
  
  
 Stanski
 November 27, 2019
   

 Pictures worth a thousand words
 Tantalize our imaginations
 Some appear almost absurd
 Conditions around our nation
 Anonymous, the name of the artist,
 Left treasurers to test us
  
 Often we have a retold story
 Memories and aspects of the past
 Humans in the height of glory
 Not knowing how long it will last
 Photos themselves, irreplaceable
 We wondering if we would be capable
  
 Should we even be looking?
 Surely not meant for us
 Whose lives are we forsaking?
 Was there ever a sacred trust?
 Artistic goals were once in mind
 Now no owners, no claims to find
  
 Shots seem objective, but just illusion
 Personalities, a form of diction
 Nothing left of the spirit save confusion
 Whole of the process, a book of fiction
 The why, the where, the time not known
 Results, however, are so profound
  
 Our longing just to be shown
 Knowing we’re going to be let down
 Nothing seen by us is known
 People, places, sky and ground
 Discovery and transformation becomes art
 We dream like those who did their part
  
 By Steve Haarman aka Stanski
 November 27, 2019