Poems and Stories

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Penn State's Shame_Joe Paterno's Blame

No one who was involved with even ONE incident like these should escape responsibility.  I don’t care who he is.  This is disgusting and an outrage.  I hope that when Sandusky gets to prison he is welcomed appropriately...  If Joe Paterno knew anything, at any time, he should have reported it to the school, the police, and fired Sandusky on the spot.  This may be a sad end to Joe Paterno’s career, but just imagine how bad it will be if the media finds that 10 year old boy who was in the shower.  There is no comparison.  Joe must go.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Big Red's Gift

Big Red's Gift

We have been given a strange and wonderful gift.
 A gift we have cherished privately and even jealously.
The gift of being with your father for the last few months of his life,
Both good and bad,
I would never have wanted it any other way. 
I would never have wanted to miss a single second of contact with him. 
I am glad we were the last people he saw and heard on this earth.
It was truly a gift from God.

Tom
10/5/11

Monday, September 12, 2011

What do we do now?

I hope we do not think that Al Qaeda cares about the date 9-11 like we care about birthdays and anniversaries.  Our media has done this to us.  We must remain ever vigilant regardless of the date!

Saturday, January 29, 2011

The Blue Boat


  The Blue Boat 

He wanted a boat
But he never knew
That the boat he would find
Would be painted blue.

It was blue on the outside
And blue inside too
He wondered why anyone
Would paint his boat blue.

Perhaps blue paint was free
On the day it was done
Or perhaps he used blue
Because it was fun.

He had 3 little girls
And they all liked blue
But they didn’t like boats
And this he well knew

So he painted it blue
To get them inside
And out to the river
To go for a ride.

The day came at last
His blue boat was through
So he called all the girls
And his wife, named Sue, too.

They stared at the boat
“Dad! You painted it BLUE!”
He smiled at them all
As they climbed in “2 by 2”

 The river was high
The water cold, too
The girls all just shivered
As their lips turned blue.

“Dad! we love the boat
And we love you, too.
But we are all freezing
So this ride is through!”

So he put it away
In his barn for awhile
And whenever he saw it
He couldn’t help but smile.

Ten years passed
And a young man came by
“That boat for sale?”
He asked, rather shy.

“Depends”. Said the boatman
On what you might do
With a nice boat like this
That’s blue, through and through.

I’d row it to town
And back again, too
I don’t own a car
And I kinda like blue.

Well, that’s just fine
This boat is for you!
I’m glad that you like it
And that you like blue, too.

            Alright then said the boy
I’ll go get my girl
We’ll take her to the river
And give her a whirl!

Hmmm.  I hope it works
Better for you.
Than it did for me
When I did the same, too.

They both came back
The very next day
Jumped in the boat
And rowed her away

The boat came back
With boy and girl too
Laughing and joking
As young people do.


They had a fine time
In fact, she rowed it too
Because her favorite color was
You guessed it – BLUE!

The morale of this story
If one needs one at all
Is to count your blessings
Whenever you fall.

God loves us all
And that means YOU!
And he doesn’t even care
If your skin is BLUE!


F. Thomas – 1/25/11


















Sunday, January 23, 2011

Roadtown Races

When I was 20
I lived on a barge
in Roadtown, BVI.
for awhile.

One day I heard about
the Races and had to go
It was a hot day
in December, 1968.

I swam ashore
clothes held over my head
to keep them dry
and dressed on the beach.

I hitched a ride to the Races
Thinking about free food and drink
and fancy people with
fast horses.

I walked the last 2 miles
dry, coral dusty throat
parched but waiting
for a cold one.

There were no fancy people,
no fast horses,
no food and nothing to drink
for me.

It was Sunday
and everyone from town
was there
and then, there was me.

The only white boy
in a crowd of happy blacks
laughing, singing, and having fun.
I was ashamed of my thoughts.

I turned around
and walked back to my beach
undressed and swam home
to my barge.

I never told this story before
because of what I thought
and why I did what I did
and I am sorry I did not
walk up and meet those people.

Tom Crowley, 1/23/2011
about a day back in
December, 1968
on Tortola, BVI

Snow Carvings


Snow Carvings

I thought we would miss winter this year.
There was no snow in November
And I was sorry I hauled the boat.

There was no snow in December
And I was sorry Christmas wasn’t white.
In January, we froze and pipes burst
But it still didn’t snow.

In February, the winds came
And they brought the snow.
Dusting to powder to inches to feet,
Drifts covered the dinghy.

The snow was so deep that it slid
Off the roof of the woodshed
Onto the stone patio
Where the winds carved words
I did not understand.

I tried to read them before the winds
Changed them, or me.
I thought we would miss winter this year
But now I know that I would really
Miss winter if winter missed me.

Tom Crowley, Winter, 2010-11