March 25, 2010

Metal Detector

The Metal Detector (6/7/08)
BY John R. Greenwood

I am sure at first glance; you thought this piece was about airport security. The truth is I am in the Guinness Book of World Records as the only living man with gray hair and grandchildren that has never been up in an airplane or in an airport. No, this story is about something every male from nine to ninety-nine has dreamed about at some point in his life. That dream is to own a metal detector. You know, one of those long black handled devices with the large round disk on the end. Some have earphones. All have little boy dreams of buried treasure; gold rings and valuable coins just below the earth’s surface just waiting for someone to make that life altering discovery. It is a universal dream that never wanes. The anticipation is the hook; much like spending hour after hour in a rowboat waiting for that elusive trout to bite. Well, my generous wife on the 53rd anniversary of my birth presented the greatest gift a man could ever receive to me. She got me good! I had no clue. Who would? I always thought the only people who owned metal detectors were wealthy lottery winners who had nothing better to spend their money on. You know, money goes where money is. Win some money dig up more money. Find a little buried treasure; it is the All American Dream. Four and a half minutes later, I was stripping the smoke detectors of their 9-volt batteries and firing up the black beauty. Vast wealth and riches were just a beep…beep…beep… away. Forty-five minutes later, my backyard is a mortar-riddled expanse of craters and dirt piles. Not to worry, the rewards are already piling up. Over on the picnic table, spread out like the treasures of a sunken Spanish galleon are clumps of old rusted stove pipe, three bottle caps, an old screwdriver I left on the rear bumper of my pickup truck back in 1983 and this was just the beginning! Somewhere in the world there is a man dreaming of finding the Holy Grail in the sands of the town beach. Thanks to my beautiful wife for giving me, the gift men’s dreams are made of.

March 23, 2010

Crow Balls

















Crow Balls

By John R. Greenwood


As I drove to work one day

An observation came my way


Fearless crow of football size

In the road, eating fries


The stance defiant, no urge for flight

As if, I was wrong, and he was right


No beg for mercy

No panicked look


Crow’s got balls

Crow wrote the book


J.R.G.6.14.2009

March 20, 2010

Moving Day

Moving Day

Two sons
Many moves
Zip code changes
Sofas heavy
Stairs maneuvered
Particleboard dressers
Pickup trucks borrowed
Rented moving vans
Stiffened backs
Blistered hands
Friends invisible
Twine and bungee
Bed frames
Unbolt
Bolt
Shelf paper change
Excitement high
New sights
Sounds
Smells
Masking tape rolls
Boxes
Sizes many
Dishes
Pictures
Each move
Diminished smiles

J.R.G.4.25.2009

Submitted to : The Poetry Pantry #88

Our Hudson River

















Our Hudson River
By John R. Greenwood

From the moss laden woods of Marcy
To the cliffs of West Point high
Flows an artery of life
That quenches you and I

A slice of Hudson
With ledges blue
Where rainbow trout
Once greeted you

Camps built simple with
Boats tied loosely
Bobbing happily
In soft waves
Brought on by
Tender winds

Riverbank beaches
Strewn with blankets
Children playing in the sand
Wiggle toes of happiness
From baby-size
To full-grown man

Ducks float quiet
Dipping heads
Sipping dinner
Through water soaked bills

Water reflections
Of campfires glow
Add silent beauty
To a wet gentle flow

I’ll teach my sons
As you taught me

Water is life
Life is good
Protect the Hudson
Like a good father should

Photograph - That is my father in the foreground and me as a little boy behind him. The beach was owned by Charlie Atwell and was located on the east side of the Hudson about half-way between Corinth and Lake Luzerne. I learned to swim at that beach.

J.R.G.11.27.09

March 17, 2010

Microwave Madness

Microwave Madness

By John R. Greenwood


One minute

Or less


Fast food

Too slow


Right on red

Roll on through


Bumper to bumper

Dawn till dusk


One-hour photo

Where did you go


Wait - a word

We learn to hate


Savor - a word

Fallen out of favor


Quick to judge

Slow to praise


Pray microwave madness

Is just a phase



J.R.G.3.16.2009