Saturday, October 30, 2010

A Little Hill in Arlington

It is about 10 days past the anniversary of the report of my father's missing plane.  I have posted this poem before but think it appropriate to re-post it around this anniversary every time.  It took 50 years for us kids to get closure on his departure.

There’s a little hill in Arlington
Where no bodies are interred
Yet crosses dot the hillside
And Taps are sometimes heard

Unlike the Unknown Soldier
With “unknowns” in the ground
This little hill in Arlington
Is for soldiers never found

I grew up without a father
He was gone when I was four
Flying for the Air Force
Back in the Korean War

His plane was ore’ the Azores
When communications ceased
The search went on for days and days
They never found a piece
My mother raised four children
Each day she learned to cope
She said until a body’s found
We’d never give up hope

The years went by just waiting
And my mother, bless her soul
Held on until her very end
To a grieving widow’s role

For fifty years we children
Had no resting place for Dad
No gravesite and no marker
No closure ever had

Then on little hill in Arlington
Where no bodies are interred
We raised a simple white cross
Dad’s Taps were finally heard

My big sister got the folded flag
And we all shed the tears
That had been bottled up inside us
For all those fifty years

Now Dad, he has a resting place
With other fallen sons
On a quiet little hillside
Right here in Arlington

Mdailey  01/27/09

NC Fall

On an early morning walk just the other day, I took a look around and composed this poem.  I hope someone likes it.  It was published in the Brunswick New Comers newsletter this past month.

The fog and the mist on a cool crispy morn
Rising off of the pond as a new day is born
The birds in the trees and the squirrels on the ground
Know deep in their hearts that Fall is around
Gazing out at the course from an old wooden bridge
That’s how my day starts here at Ocean Ridge
The golf carts are humming all qued up in line
As golfers await their early tee time
There are walkers and joggers and people on bikes
To name just a few of my favorite likes
If given a choice, it’s great to be here
In North Carolina this time of year

Mdailey 10/18/10


My brother-in-law passed away several years ago on 29 October.  I wrote this poem for my wife and the rest of his family.

They met somewhat late in life
She no husband, he no wife
Neither one that lost or lonely
Neither one the one and only
His friends said here’s your chance
Get on out and join the dance
There’s no telling what you’ll find
When you open up your mind

He said “Say a prayer for me”
They said – go on seize the day
See how happy you can be
And his spirits soared away

Their romance was slow at start
But their love grew deep at heart
Each one learning more to care
They made such a perfect pair
A backyard wedding came their way
On some say that year’s hottest day
But their love was plain to see
They were somehow meant to be

He said “Say a prayer for me”
She knelt by his side to pray
Whispered “Oh how I love you”
And their spirits soared that day

But then one day he said “Dear
I feel weak - please hold me near
I don’t know what it’s about
But I know we’ll work this out”
Oh the years were way too short
Came the doctor’s last report
“Go and stay close by his side,
He is on his final ride”

And then standing by his bed
With no tears left to be shed
The kids now gathered round
Showing all the love he’d found
They all said their last good byes
As they wiped their crying eyes
She said, “Dear what can I do
To help you make it through?”

He said “Say a prayer for me”
She knelt by his side to pray
Whispered “Oh how I love you”
As his spirit slipped away

Mdailey   12/23/07

Friday, October 29, 2010

Hawaii - a day to day diary of our vacation


Day 1

We flew into Hawaii, my head was all stuffed
My eyes were all red and if that’s not enough
I sneezed, my nose ran, I sat by a large man
Welcome to Hawaii

We were greeted by rainbows, the biggest I’ve seen
While caught up in the traffic somewhere in between
The plane, the airport and where we were staying
But we were all safe and sound and done with our praying
Our room in the hotel was all grand enough
A great ocean view but my head was still stuffed
It was time for a meal so down to the street
We walked the block twice for something to eat
Got into bed and turned out the lamps
Drifted off to sleep and my leg muscles cramped
The pain was intense and I thought I would die
Bit down on a pillow so I wouldn’t cry
Welcome to Hawaii

Day 2
Alarm rang at 4, the sun’s not yet up
We walked over to Denny’s for our first morning cup
We then toured Pearl Harbor and the great Punch Bowl
Delight for the eyes and comfort for the soul

Day 3
Day three was for boarding and stowing our gear
Exploring the ship from front bow to rear
Finding our table down on deck two
And reading Fun Times to see what to do

Day 4
Day four – Honolulu – no excursions planned
So we hopped a trolley for the lay of the land
We ended up shopping at a big Hilo Hattie
One more day in this town and I will go batty
We finally set sail for our next island hop
To Nawiliwili, the small island’s stop
We signed up to snorkel in a quiet island bay
In wet suits and masks we were set for the day
But the waves just grew bigger – now 4 or 5 feet
And just getting past them some fell in defeat
The fish, they were few – breathing made my mouth sore
And two of us had to sit out on the shore
So back to the boat to rest and relax
Then get dressed for dinner in good shoes and slacks
And after our meal we sat down for the show
Then early to bed, we were tired you know
Welcome to Hawaii

Day 5
We woke up in Hilo for our day’s planned event
To the top Mauna Kea, up – up – up we went
Up at the top – 14 thousand high feet
The air was so thin our hearts fought to beat
The clouds were below us, obscuring our view
Cold, very cold, and the wind how it blew
The land all barren with rocks strewn all over
This was where NASA trained on the moon rover

Day 6
The next stop was Kona and you know that song
With the “Little Grass Shack”, well we all sang along
We passed by the bay where Captain Cook fell
And heard why it happened as the natives could tell
This was Hawaii as we thought it should be
Great views, great beaches with the graceful palm trees
Kings names and key places I couldn’t pronounce
And famed island coffee too costly per ounce
The “Palace of Refuge” where all could be safe
Walled off to separate great kings from the waif
And waves that came crashing up over the wall
That had to be one of the best ports of call
Welcome to Hawaii

Day 7 & 8
Day seven in Maui for two days of fun
From rainforest shade to white beaches sun
Day one found us hiking through a forest of green
Passing flowers and bushes like I’ve never seen
Avocadoes and guava just fell from the trees
But the slick muddy trails were hard on old knees
And after a hike of maybe a mile
We came to a spot where we’d rest for a while
A high waterfall with water so cold
That few ventured in, just the brave and the bold
Under the falls you could not see a thing
The water was blinding and carried a sting
Back to the van and a drive down the coast
We came, we swam, and on that we could boast
Day two there on Maui and another high peak
A 3000 foot crater – a view quite unique
Down, down from the mountain, through Maui’s great plain
Passed miles and miles of sweet sugarcane
To the great Iao Valley with its walls green and steep
A valley of kings where their ancestors sleep
And miles and miles of great sandy shores
Where surfers and campers enjoy the outdoors

Day 9 & Beyond
Day nine, we’re at sea – leaving islands behind
The week now a blur, a great one-of-a-kind
Now it’s eating and games and eating again
And blue that surrounds us with a constant east wind
Aloha to Hawaii

In the middle of nowhere but still right on track
We just passed the point where there’s no turning back
When the captain comes on and says travelers beware
The swells will get bigger – hang on on the stairs
We were clipping along right at 22 knots
And losing our balance in all the rough spots
But there’s a passenger needing immediate care
So we’ll be at full throttle in a rush to get there
Soon we dropped off the patient – southern Cal – in the bay
Then cruised south of the border that very same day
And in Encinitas our cruise came to an end
And I thought I was through with all that I’d penned
But we got up at four – on the buses by seven
Hit the Mexican border by maybe eleven
And then we just sat as the cars inched up the line
And crossing the border took way too much time
Our director was nervous – about going insane
We were greatly in danger of missing our plane
But we got to the airport and sorted out bags
Got them weighed, x-rayed, and labeled with tags
And finally we’re down to a 1 hour flight
You’d better believe we slept soundly that night

So let me recap – we did lots of stuff
And a week in Hawaii just isn’t enough
And five days at sea might be three days too long
But with family and friends, how could we go wrong
So maybe someday I’ll go back – get a lei
Drape it over my head and hear island folks say
Welcome to Hawaii

Mdailey 10/18/10

My Daddy Was a Fly Boy

My Daddy Was a Fly Boy
October was an important month to me.  It was my parents wedding anniversary and the month my father was reporting missing in action.  Here is a poem I wrote about my mom and dad.

My Daddy was a fly boy
My Mom an Army nurse
They met back in the second war
When the world was at its worse

She was stationed in the Philippians
He was stationed in the air
They somehow found each other
And became a loving pair

They were married in October
When the war was through
She planned to raise a family
And that’s just what she would do

And he kept right on flying
Then Korea came around
He said my place is in the air
Not down here on the ground

So she stayed safely grounded
While he flew off to war
And in-between those secrete flights
Came children numbered four

Then one night in October
His plane did not return
They searched his route from end to end
Yet nothing could they learn

No oil slick upon the sea
No debris anywhere
No sign of him or of his plane
He just vanished from the air

But Mom, she never gave up hope
That someday he’d be found
She waited for her fly-boy
Till she was heaven bound

We pray they’re back together
As true lovers all should be
And that they go on loving
For all eternity

Yes - my Daddy was a fly boy
Back in the 2nd war
We lost him in Korea
When I was only four
My Momma was an Army nurse
Served in the Philippians
They married when the war was ‘ore
Fulfilling perfect dreams

Mdailey 12/29/09

Tuesday, October 19, 2010


My parents wedding anniversary was 18 Oct (I think that is right).  After Mom passed away, we found a poem she had written for her 5th wedding anniversary.  As usual, my father was flying somewhere on a mission so she wrote him the poem.  You can see from the poem where I might have gotten what little talent I have for poems and the same ideas on humor.  I hope some of you like this poem from back in the 40s.

Happy Anniversary   /  Florence Dailey

I’ve studies the angles from hither and yon
And here are the conclusions that I have drawn:
Our marital status is a bit of a mess
It’s rough to admit it, but, honey, confess
If laid end to end was the time you spent flittin’
On trips or in school, or as AO just sittin’
Tain’t Anniversary Five that we honor with glee
Might stand in the books but it isn’t for me
It should be the second or at most the third
Cause I married a man who makes like a bird!
“How to be Single tho’ Married” – Remember?
The book I was writing way back in November?
When I was at Howard and you in BA
(The trip was 5 days; 5 weeks you did stay)
Then there was Rio, Lima and Guat
And mucho mucho mas – in fact, quite a lot
Of places you mentioned that now skip my mind
At Bourinquine the pattern varied little I find
Your trips were still often, the hours home but few
By then we had animals and kids – we had two
Then we came stateside to the damn frozen north
You see the sun ‘cause you go back and go forth
To Texas and Florida, as well as across
The icy Atlantic – on one engine, of course
Now the children are three – a damn Yankee is here
To add to the din and the mess till I fear
I’m mad as a hatter, the place is a fright
And I’m fit to be tied when you come home at night
But don’t get me wrong – change places I’d not
(Tho’ I’ll probably end up as a drunken old sot)
Happy October 18th – and may we have more
I’d like maybe a million, but at least fifty-four
I love you, old goat, and no doubt always will
‘Cause where I’m concerned you sure fill the bill
As in each of my letters – you don’t write – you meanie
I’ll send this as usual – you’ve all my love – Greenie

NOTES:  Howard was in Panama City where my older sister Margie was born.  Bourinquine was the base in Puerto Rico where I was born.  The Damn Yankee refers to my sister Kathy.  Of course my father came back and they had one more child - Jinx (also a Damn Yankee).  My father's plane disappeared when I was four and I never got to know him at all other than letters he wrote to my Mom and stories she told us.

Monday, September 20, 2010


Allen Pearson's pictures of clouds inspired this poem.

We sit and stare as clouds drift by
Moving pictures in the sky
Here and there a Teddy Bear
Drifting off to who knows where
All it takes - an open mind
Go see what other things you’ll find

Mdailey 9/18/10

Blue Shenandoah Morning

My friend Allen Pearson took this picture - I wrote the poem.
A Shenandoah morning
The fog still hugs the ground
The blue of sky reflected
In everything around
The fog, the hills, the valley
And even nearby trees
Are simply different hues of blue
I Love mornings like these

Mdailey 9/18/10

The Osprey

We had a pair of Osprey make a nest down the road from us.  They were the inspiration for this poem.  I started the poem, let it sit for awhile then added two new verses today.

A regal
Sea eagle
The Osprey
Who builds their nest high in the trees
With a beautiful view
Seen by so few
As they rest
In their nest
In the breeze.

They’ll be seen floating by
High in the sky
Over an Ocean Ridge pond
Then drop from the sky
Like a missile they’ll fly
For this dish of a fish they are fond

To their nest they’ll retreat
With a fish in their feet
To share with the young in their nest
Then it’s back on a limb
Both the her and the him
To enjoy a well needed rest

Mdailey 7/3/10 – 9/20/10

Duck Calls

If you are a hunter, you know all about duck calls and duck stamps.  If you want to shoot ducks you have to purchase a duck stamp.  Well, a few years ago there was a little problem with the phone number published in all the federal regulations and websites.  Instead of a government office, people calling a federal phone number to order duck stamps were instead greeted by a phone-sex line because of a printing error the government says would be too expensive to correct. Duck stamps are required to hunt migratory waterfowl and that year’s stamps feature a pair of pintail ducks.
Here is the conversation that might have taken place back then.  WARNING - this is not a PC poem.

I was calling to get a few duck stamps
I got a young girl on the line
I said I was hoping for pintails
She said she could get me that kind
I told her I did not want to lick them
I want the kind sticky on back
She said that was rather an odd call
But she’d find someone with just that knack
I told her that I was a novice
And this was my first real hunt
She said to sit back and enjoy it
She had everything I’d ever want
I asked would it be check or credit
She said credit was all they would take
I gave her my number and waited
But I must have made some mistake
She started to talk real dirty
And by dirty, I mean real DIRT
I hung up the phone in a hurry
I hope the girl’s feelings weren’t hurt

So maybe I won’t go duck hunting
As I had originally planned
I’ve got beavers I ought to take care of
In my stream that they recently dammed



With football season now in full swing and basketball not far behind, I thought it good to give Denver it's due.  When the upgraded their stadiums a few years back, they had the ladies comfort in mind.
In Denver the women have spoken
They won themselves more than a token
They have twice the seating
Whenever they’re meeting
The old one-for-one ratio’s been broken

We’re not talking about seats on the floor
But those behind closed restroom doors
They chose to consider
The “stander” - the “sitter”
And how long it takes for those chores

The women had power to wield
And in Denver the builders did yield
They didn’t encumber
Gals by the number
Of rest rooms at Invesco Field

And girls when they enter
The new Pepsi Center
Have less waiting when their nature calls
They took into account
Your attire and amount
Of time you take in restroom stalls.

So gals quit your griping
Your digs and your sniping
To your wishes we have requisted
You have plenty of room
To relieve or to groom
At the convention you should be well rested


Talk Like a Pirate

It was national "Talk like a Pirate" day and I had to wirite about it.
Me parrots on shoulder
Me hooks on my wrist
Me legs an old peg
You get the gist
Shiver me timbers
ARRGG – come aboard
I’ll tell you the secret
Of my pirate hoard
If you can’t keep the secret
Off the plank you will walk
For I’m a believer
In walking the talk
And speaking of talking
I’ve just this to say
It’s National “Talk
Like a Pirate” today.

Mdailey 9/19/10

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Happy Birthday

Tomorrow - 1 September - is my wife's birthday.  I wrote this for her last year.

Here’s wishing you a birthday wish
A home-made cake, a lover’s kiss
A day that you can spend with friends
From sunrise till the sunset ends
This is just my way to say
Hope you have a glorious day
Here is one for this year - - -
When I lie down with you each night
I hope and pray with all my might
That in the morning when I wake
You'll still be there for heaven's sake

Monday, August 30, 2010


This feels like a good to post a couple of sport related poems.  We have a newcomers group down here that gets together once a month to bowl.  You never know who you will bowl with and it is all in fun.  I have bowled very little in my life but have tried it now that I am retired.
Bowling’s just bowling
Unless it’s with us
Then bowling is bowling
A bit more robust
It’s an evening with friends
And sharing your story
And when bowling’s done
You can bask in the glory
Of seeing your name
In the overhead light
And improving your game
And it’s all in one night
Oh, it doesn’t matter
What you finally score
It isn’t the scoring
That you go there for
No, you go there for friendship
You go there for fun
And when bowling is over
Your evening’s not done
We’re all going out
For a drink and a bite
That’s Newcomers’ bowling
On fabulous night

Mdailey 6/3/10


I saw a notice on Orchids and felt compelled to respond. While I think all golfers have a hole like that every once in a while, very few announce it publically on Orchids. This golfer has made all other golfers feel good about their game with that confession. I hope you enjoy the little poem I wrote for you on it.


Woe is the golfer who after two strokes
Is not passed the tee of the feminine folks
Whose drive hits the marker and takes a right turn
And his shot from the rough is a major concern
So he’s sitting at three and not yet passed the tee
Woe is a golfer like that

Can there be any penalty greater than shame
An open confession on Orchids with name
Don’t be hard on yourself, there is no one to blame
A hole such as that is just part of the game

Mdailey 8/30/10


Orchid notice - - -
What good is retirement living, if you can't occasionally laugh at yourself. I find myself in uncharted waters and I need wisdom. We all know what the generally accepted penalty is for men who fail to hit their drive past the women's tee. My question is what is the penalty when after hitting your drive and then your second shot (not from the tee) you still are not past the women's tee.

Yes, on hole 17 of Panthers (I know it’s a Par 3) my 5 iron drive hit the yellow tee marker and went right over the cart path in the direction of "The Schuster's) but was still in play. My 7 iron second shot was out of "the Dante's Inferno" rough and landed short of the women's tee and I took a 6. I then went on to bogey the 18th and post a marvelous 101. If anyone has knowledge as to the appropriate penalty, or has experienced a similar fate I would appreciate their input.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Better With Age

And again this friend of mine was bragging about how she thought she was getting better with age and since I am nearing her same age, I thought to myself that I too could utter that phrase with conficence as long as I looked at myself from a certain perspective.

I’m actually getting better with age
To illustrate this, here is my gauge
The spots on my skin – think of a young leopard
The cane in my hand – think of a young Sheppard
And now that I squint – think of a young Clint (Eastwood)
The grey in my hair – now I look debonair
Though my jowls droop a little I feel fit as a fiddle
And though I wear glasses, the gals still make passes
My six-pack’s matured to a tight mini-keg
And I could run miles (except for one leg)
There’s a skip in my steps like I’m dancing on air
(It’s just orthopedics – I now wear a pair)
And the creaks and the groans that you hear when I move
Is the gypsy in me getting down with the groove
When I look in the mirror I still see someone young
And my memory sticks on the tip of my tongue
Yes, I’m actually getting better with age
If I recalibrate what I use for a gauge

Mdailey 8/27/10

Age = Karma

This friend of mine posted a story of how she beat a bunch of senior citizens to the prescription counter in a CVS and how bad she fealt after she cut them off.

The bus pulled in the parking lot
The seniors all got out
Like a bunch of slow old turtles
They began to move about
They were headed into CVS
To get prescriptions filled
They were bound to slow me down no doubt
My own resolve was chilled
I tried to get around them
But I couldn’t find a path
If each one took five minutes
I mean – you do the math
So I took another isle
I knew they wouldn’t take
Greeting cards and pampers
So these old folks I did shake
I skidded into first place
At that prescription desk
I had beat those blue-haired ladies
With my medical request
And then it finally hit me
How shameful I had been
To make these blue-haired ladies wait
While I just butted in
So sheepishly I slunk away
Ahead, but clothed in guilt
And thought about the Karma
That I, myself, just built
How long until some youngster
His own story told
How he cut in front of me
Cause I’d grown slow and old

Mdailey 8/26/10

I’m Not That Old – Am I?

I had a friend turn 62 last week and she was bragging about how young she really was.

No cane or walker have I
No tank of oxygen
No grey hairs show upon my head
I don’t feel old – but then
I remember my last birthday
How the candles burned so bright
I think they counted sixty-two
I know that can’t be right
Then I look around me
As one often does
And see my kids are at that age
That I thought I still was
When I look into a mirror
See age I can’t surmount
There is still that one advantage though
I get a senior-age discount

Mdailey 8/26/10

Margarita or Cheeseburger

The Jimmy Buffett website posted a question - this was my response.
Margarita or a cheeseburger
What a choice to make
One will make your belly full
One your head to ache
One will tingle taste buds
One will tingle toes
One leads to another
So I’ll have two of those
One will go down easy
One will take some time
One I could write poems about
One I just can’t rhyme
Margarita or a cheeseburger
Which one would I choose
The one that’s paradise on bun
Or the one delightful booze

Mdailey 8/26/10


I have this friend that does not have good luck with seagulls at the beach.  I have not used his name in this poem as it might embarrace him.

I was with my girlfriend
One day down on the beach
When a flock of seagulls
Flew just beyond our reach
At first we didn’t see them
Then all at once one swooped
And when he was right above us
That nasty bird just pooped
It splattered on my forehead
It splattered on my shirt
It splattered on my self esteem
The embarrassment sure hurt
And then the very next day
Down on that same old beach
Again I saw the seagulls
Again I heard their screech
Again one flew right at us
Again one’s bowels let go
Again my shirt was soiled
My last clean one you know
So now when we go to the shore
I bring along three shirts or more
And when I see those fricken birds
I duck for cover from those turds

Mdailey 8/26/10


Dateline: 19 August, 2008 – Sun Times Headline - Man says 9-foot tapeworm came from undercooked salmon salad.  I am posting this as close to the anniversary of the event as I could remember.  These things come and go and everyone needs to be aware of the symptoms and sequence of events leading to their demise.

I felt the movement deep inside
And as it passed I almost died
To see a creature 9-foot long
Come out of me – it’s wrong – IT’S WRONG!

It came, I think, from Salmon Salad
I was sick for days and somewhat pallid
But the feeling passed, I carried on
Not knowing there was something wrong
Then a wiggle here, a wiggle there
Eating more and passing air
Then dizziness and vertigo
Cramps and colic and a need to go
Combined with weight loss, muscle pain
Brought it all back once again

I didn’t catch the tell-tale signs
Until at last my system binds
Nothing coming – nothing going
Until at last a tail is showing

I don’t know why it lost its grip
Or when it all began to slip
All I know is a tapeworm
Will lose its grip and start to squirm

I felt the movement deep inside
And as it passed I almost died
To see a creature 9-foot long
Come out of me – it’s wrong – IT’S WRONG!

Mdailey    08/20/08

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Long Hot Summer

Based on reactions I got from the last two poems - I felt obliged to write one more on the subject.  Maybe I should just do a whole booklet on the subject.  I think I have about a half a dozen poems on it by now.  What do you think?

The Doc says there’s no rhyme or reason
For my wife’s long “summer season”
It started many years ago
She fears it still has years to go
Her hormone levels are near normal
Her clothes at home grow more informal
With the AC blasting out cold air
She’s burning like a roadside flare
No matter what the time of year
When little beads of sweat appear
She picks up anything that’s flat
And tries to fan herself with that
So now her shoulder’s sore from fanning
She even gave up summer tanning
It’s hard to look cool and collected
While burning up like she’s infected
She says her thermostat is broken
In words that I have seldom spoken
She says I should be understanding
It comes across more like demanding
But even as I duck for cover
I can’t help but think I love her
So even if her temp gets steeper
I still think I’ll likely keep her

Mdailey 8/16/10

Hot Chick

After failing to write a poem on hot chicks as I did on the Menopause prayer below, I felt I still owed it to the challenge to really try to do one about the hot chick i live with.

When I lay down with this hot chick
Her reactions came real quick
She loosed the buttons on her gown
She threw the covers on the ground
I saw a glimmer in her eyes
That told me clothing was unwise
Don’t you know I was impressed
To see how quickly she undressed
She showed me how her body sweat
And I hadn’t even touched her yet
You know what I was thinking then
She’ hot – yea, she’s so hot again
Then we both knew it’s just because
She’s in the throes of menopause
So here I lie with this hot chick
And pray I get to sleep real quick.

Mdailey 8/15/10

Menopause Prayer

The discussion on menopause last evening left one gentleman to challenge me to write another poem on the subject.  It was supposed to be about hot chicks but it took a different turn right from the start.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord for no more heat
For if it comes, I’ll be awake
I pray the Lord, don’t make me bake
I’ll even get down on my knees
And pray the Lord “Lord, pretty please”
Please don’t turn my furnace on
My flesh is weak, my patience’s gone
I haven’t had a good night’s sleep
Since menopause turned on the heat
And it’s no good Lord, counting sheep
If into fire, Lord they leap
So Lord, please grant me this request
And take this fire from my chest
Let someone else be thusly blessed
And let me finally get some rest


Mdailey 8/15/10

My Face is Like a Furnace

We were at dinner the other day with friends and the talk came around to menopause.  and then someone ( I don't think it was me) said I had a poem on it so I had to dig this one out and share it with them.

My face is like a furnace
And so I start to fan
Then just when I am cooling off
The heat comes on again
I have buttons to unbutton
I want to take things off
Then I realize, I’m still at work
My co-workers all will scoff
So once again I fan myself
My arms now get so tired
I’ve explained this to my doctor
She said my warranty’s expired
As a woman’s age increases
The temperatures she’s getting
Fluctuates from hot to cold
And really is upsetting
So the covers I will kick off
And in private clothes are shed
To cool the raging furnace
That is not just in my head
We women bring life into the world
What does that privilege earn us
Hormones that with age break down
And a face just like a furnace

Mdailey     04/27/09

Broken Windows

We have a system of messages down here on the plantation where anyone can post a question or an observation that they think someone can address.  Well, this guy Nolan (who I don't know) posted a question on how to protect his windows as he had been in his house only two weeks and already had two broken windows from errant golf balls.  Local friends said it sounded like something worthy of a poem.  So I wrote it.

We built here on the golf course
For the view from our back yard
We couldn’t find a drawback
Though we thought it through real hard
And now that we have moved in
Our view, the fairway grass
We hadn’t thought of errant hooks
Or the fragileness of glass
Two weeks and now two windows
The victims of these hooks
Two weeks and we are flustered
And have dented our checkbooks
Has anyone an answer
Has anyone a fix
Has anyone yet solved this
We’d love to learn the tricks.

Nolan, here’s the problem
Golfers can’t hit straight
And windows on a golf course
Are simply left to fate
Some folks have tried a trellis
Some folks just hung a net
Some folks put plastic film up
That’s all I heard of yet
You could maybe add some bushes
Or perhaps a tree or two
That might stop the golf balls
But screw up your great view
I wish I had an answer
But my yard is ball free
My backyard is directly
Tween a hole and the next tee

Mdailey 8/14/10

Friday, August 13, 2010


I am not political by nature but some things lend them selves to poems.  I started this back when Bush was in power and ended it with all the good Barack has brought to the game of economy.

They say that with the surplus that Bill Clinton left George Bush
He was firmly planted on third base just waiting for the push
That would have him score the winning run – George Bush that run did squoosh

For the intelligence that got him there was gone without a trace
And George Bush had a brain storm that left him staring into space
Then George Bush thinking for himself, ran back to second base

And when the dust was settled and his plan had emersed
It was clear to all of us, these moves were not rehearsed
And then twas no surprise to us, George Bush stole back to first

So there he stands and so stand us
Not knowing who to hear or trust
With economy that has gone bust

Then up at bat now comes Barack
Who says Bush plan was just a crock
It’s now my game so watch we rock

And now Barack has had his day
He stepped right up into the fray
What do you know – a triple play!

Game Over!

Mdailey     08/13/10

Steve Slater / Jet Blue

I could not help myself.  This guy was all over the news and everyone was polorized as to what they thought of him.  I can see it from both sides but this one makes the better poem.

Just who is this guy – Steve Slater
You know the guy from Jet Blue
Who just had enough
Of their BS and stuff
And told all those travelers “F You!”

Now Trump says this guy is a wacko
To others a hero they say
He just made it clear
He had it “to here”
And just popped at the end of the day

Once landed and on the loud speaker
He gave them a piece of his mind
Grabbed some beer from the cart
And made his depart
Down the chute sliding on his behind

Jet Blue will now fire this attendant
For letting things get out of hand
For the chute he deployed
That got them annoyed
Will cost them at least 20 grand

Mdailey 8/12/10


I wrote this for a friend of mine when she posted something on facebook saying she needed a reality check.

Just how do you plan to check it
Reality, what’s it to you
The things you can touch
The things that you hear
The things that come into view
But you and I live different places
You and I lead different lives
So what’s real to you
To me just isn’t true
And there-in reality lies
Don’t worry – don’t bother to check it
Just sit back – enjoy the ride
You’ve youth and good health
And an good sense of self
Let reality simply subside

Mdailey 8/12/10

Where have all the good jobs gone?

The paper said that we can't fix the economy until we all get jobs.  So where are all the jobs today?  this was written from a women's point of view since they use a lot more products and the rhymes worked better from that perspective.
My Japanese Alarm clock woke me right at six
My Chinese coffeepot kicked in to brew my morning fix
And with a Hong Kong razor I deafly shaved my shin
Wearing my Sri Lanka skirt, my day could now begin
My jeans I got from Singapore, Korea made my shoes
My TV (Indonesia), gave me my morning news
In a skillet made in India, I cooked my morning bacon
With my GPS from old Taiwan, I checked the route I'm taken
I turn on my computer, Malaysian is my guess
To check the old stock market that's really quite a mess
I calculate my losses with a machine from Mexico
And check my Swedish time piece and see its time to go
Then in my German auto, filled up with Saudi gas
I slip on Brazilian sandals and leave the house at last
I listen to the radio - India made this one
And head out on my job search; my day has now begun
I keep up my appearance, my hair's cut by some sweet
With a catchy British accent, Vietnam gals do my feet
My purse from Costa Rica, my hat from Ecuador
My belt's from Puerto Rico or some other foreign shore
I've got an education and I'm not a worthless slob
But somehow I can't seem to find a good paying US job

I blame it on recession; I haven't got a chance
I drown my sorrow every day with wine I bought from France

MDailey     11/21/08

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


I just posted 6 poems written a couple of years ago - all related to baseball in one way or another.  I am sure not all of you are fans of the sport but if you are reading this posting, you are at least somewhat a fan of my poems so go ahead and browse through them.  If you have comments, I would love to hear them.


Can You Make the Game Tonight

The following is a series of short poems I wrote to the manager of our church league softball team.  It seems my daughter told him or showed him that I wrote poems and he challenged me to respond to his weekly request for players in rhyme.  I did my best to accommodate him each week.  Here is the colledtion of responses - - -

From:John [Softball Team Manager] Sent: Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Subject: Games Thursday
I am aware that you write poems. I would like your responses to come in the form of a poem for the rest of the season.

My Response - - -
Who told you that story – it must be my daughter
I’ll be at the games, come hell or high water
But writing a poem to you week after week
My daughter and I need to sit down and speak
Writing in rhyme sometimes is quite taxing
I’m not just sitting here all bored and relaxing
I’ve work to do and I’m earning my pay
Not writing poems for you day after day
Since you’re management, I’d like to do what you like
But writing you poems, we’ll just see (that’s all – Mike)
I’m just an old man from Ox Hill
Who’s lost speed but still has some skill
And you ask if I might
Play the games Monday night
If the good Lord is willing, I will
Last night it appears the Good Lord wasn’t willing
The wind and the rain that he sent was quite thrilling
It ruined the evening for barbeque grilling
Now we have to play Friday night games

But from what I have seen, the “NO” list is growing
There’s a whole lot of guys that are simply not showing
And I know how you hate on the game day not knowing
So count me in if there no rains

But maybe the other team’s hurting like us
Maybe these Friday night games are a bust
Call them and cancel the games if you must
But count me in if you need names
As an old man from Ox Hill I care
To play the game cleanly and fair
And to play all the games
Be it sunshine or rains
If the Lord will allow, I’ll be there
Miss a game with my buddies, well there just ain’t no way
No matter the stress or the strain of the day
Only Good Lord and traffic can keep me at bay
Count me in coach, I’m ready to play
But the game on the 7th – I won’t make the pair
Missing a game for me is quite rare
But I’m off on vacation – the mid-west somewhere
So I’ll keep the guys and the game in my prayers
When it comes to position, the coach has his picks
When it comes to pure hitting, I still have some sticks
When it comes to the lineup, don’t play any tricks
When it comes to tonight’s game, I’ll be there at 6
mdailey - summer of 08


Even Barry Bonds was in the news back then.  Will he ever be enshrined in Cooperstown?
If Bonds hits more homers than Hank
Who has he got to thank
Is it Daddy dear
Or that salve he calls clear
Either way his reps in the tank

Mdailey     01/09/08

Baseball Talks

I wrote this about the same time I wrote "Baseball at the Bat". This is more a dig at Congressonal hearings than at baseball.  As you can see, I was upset with both sides of this issue.
What’s this world coming to – with a war going on
And Congressional testimony going on for so long
Just talking Baseball and who’s doing drugs
Wasting their time with crooks, lawyers, and thugs
They’re worried about Baseball’s great mystique
With nary a word on the lives lost each week
Or how about the recession – folks out on the street
With no roof ore’ their head and no food left to eat
No, they’re worried about players and how they’re poor models
Getting their records through syringes and bottles
They fear that the message conveyed to their kid
That if records are set, it’s OK what they did
To smear on “the clear” and go out and play
And when they grow up they’ll opt for a shot
To let them get muscles that they haven’t yet got
But who really cares – I mean WHO REALLY CARES
If they’re taking steroids and they’re loosing their hairs
And they set all the records that can ever be set
It won’t impact anyone that I know I bet
But with congressmen wasting all of their time
On all of this nonsense making my blood pressure climb
I want them devoting their time to “Just” causes
Not wasting it all on sporting rules clauses
And now they want “Justice” to waste their time too
To determine if what they heard was all true
If maybe some players had lied under oath
Wasting more time, and this time by both
And what’s the role model they’ve taught kids to see
It’s not about ball players if you’re asking me
It’s how once elected you can call to the table
Anyone, any time and then put it on cable
And sit there all mighty and bask in the glory
Of breaking a hero down with his very own story
And maybe you get 15 minutes of fame
And on every front page you can see your own name
And one other thing its really good for
It makes Congress forget that we’re all in a war!

Mdailey     2/29/08


Back a few years ago, baseball was going through some hard times.  There were doping scandles, poor attendance, investigations from Congress and it did not look like the brains that ran baseball knew what they were doing.   So I wrote about it.  Of course I stole a little from Casey at the Bat but my heart was in the right place. 

The Outlook isn't brilliant in Cooperstown these days:
The score shows Congress leading and players all but played.
And with Bonds under indictment and Clemens soon the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the breast;
They thought, if only Baseball could make some sense of that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Baseball at the bat.
But Mitchell named Canseco and Canseco squealed on more,
Tom Davis and then Waxman said lets even up the score;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Baseball fixing that.
But Bonds stuck to his story, to the wonderment of all,
And Clemens, though its shaky has refused to take a fall;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Pettit safe in New York and Tejada playing third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Baseball, mighty Baseball, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Baseball's manner as they stepped into the place;
There was pride in Baseball's bearing and a smile on Baseball's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, they lightly took their seat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Baseball they can’t beat.
Ten thousand eyes were on them as they blamed Radoenski;
Five thousand tongues applauded when they named Brian McMamee.
Then while Congress sat their cringing, their hands upon their hips,
Defiance gleamed in Baseball's eye, a sneer curled Baseball's lips.

And now the Congress questions came hurtling through the air,
And Baseball stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by old stately Baseball questions unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Baseball. "Strike one," the Congress said.
From the trenches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill them! Kill the Congress!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed them had not Baseball raised a hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Baseball's visage shone;
It stilled the rising tumult; it bade the talks go on;
It signaled to the Congress, and once more the questions flew;
But Baseball still ignored it, and the Congress said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Baseball and the audience was awed.
They saw Baseball’s face grow stern and cold, as they all racked their brain,
And they knew that Baseball wouldn't let that chance go by again.
The sneer is gone from Baseball's lip, their teeth are clenched in hate;
They pounds with cruel violence at the questions on their plate.
And now the Congress holds the cards, and now they lets them go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Baseball's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Cooperstown - mighty Baseball has struck out.

Mdailey     2/29/08

Yankee Fan

When I was working, we had a transplanted new Yorker who just loved the Yankees.  He kept us posted on who was pitching each game, who was hot with a bat and who was sitting the bench and why.  He watched every game he could - even going up to NY in the evening for a game.  Of course, he had to leave work early if he wanted to go from DC to NY in time for a game.
Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His curveball’s so tight
Yankee Fan

Be it Clemens, Mussina or Meyers
Pettitte, Rivera, Villone
He’s willing to bet on his pitcher
Especially if pitching at home

Jeater – now he’s really something
And A Rod – no equal is found
They cover the left in the infield
And Boy! How they cover that ground

Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His fastball is so out of sight
Yankee Fan

Pin stripes are high fashion to him
Even fat guys look kind of slim
With the pants ending just at shin
In fashion they always win

He’s been in the House that Ruth Built
He’d sit there though heat made him wilt
He’s loyal without any guilt
He’s Yankee clean up to the hilt

Team roster? He knows every man
The batboy? He’ll name him – he can
This isn’t some fair weather fan
George Steinbrenner – yea – He’s da man

Who’s pitching tonight?
Him? – Oh he’ll do alright
His slider is simply a fright
Yankee Fan

Sure there’s work to be done by this evening
There are papers to read and to write
And it’s early but still he is leaving
The Yankees are playing tonight!

Who’s pitching today?
Doesn’t matter – no way
Yanks are playing hooray!
Yankee Fan!

Mdailey     6/29/07

Rocket Man

With the talk about who just made it into the Hall of Fame and who still deserves or does not deserve to be in, I thought I would post a poem I wrote a couple of years ago on Roger Clements.  Is that how you spell his name?
He’s headed for the Hall of Fame
Cooperstown – America’s game
Then all at once we start to hear
He’s taken needles in the rear
All to make his muscles grow
When asked in court, he told them “NO”
But evidence was gaining speed
To lots of folks, that’s all they need
To keep him from the Hall of Fame
For disrespect to America’s game

Then just as this was dying down
Another flaw in him was found
This pitcher with the rocket arm
Had fallen for a young girl’s charm
She’s a singer of some note
There’s evidence of checks he wrote
He’s known her since she was fifteen
Statutory – some folks scream
She claims it all has been platonic
His downfall’s now gone supersonic

Others now are speaking up
He doesn’t keep it in his cup
The man with children numbered four
Ain’t all defense – sometimes he’ll score
It’s said he’ll leave keys in the lobby
For women friends to share his hobby
This talk is getting out of hand
This isn’t how he had it planned
He fears he’ll make the Hall of Shame
Not Cooperstown – the Hall of Fame

Mdailey     5/01/08

Friday, August 6, 2010

Tar Balls

I wrote this a rew weeks ago - I don't know why I didn't post it then.
The tar balls are coming
To a beach near you soon
They’ll float in on the tide
They’ll be sticky by noon
The marshlands and wildlife
Are facing their doom
The tar balls are coming
To a beach near you soon

This oil spill is big
They say bigger than most
The oil has spread out now
From pillar to post
They are trying to stop it
So don’t give up the ghost
But the tar balls are forming
Down in the Gulf coast

The when and the where
Is a factor of weather
The wind and the rain
Will soon come together
To scatter the oil spill
To who knows wherever
No fur coat is safe
No birds of a feather

I don’t know about you
Or just what your stance is
On oil from the land
Or off coast expanses
Let’s just hope soon
There’ll be drilling advances
Cause the way it now stands
We take too many chances

Mdailey 6/8/10

The Alamo

We have a History Club here on the plantation and the topic of last month's meeting was the Alamo.  I wrote a little poem that was sent out as a reminider for the meeting - just like I used to do when I was the XO at work and needed to remind the workforce of some coming event.
You’ve heard the story
You’ve seen the show
So you think you know
The real Alamo?
But it wasn’t exactly
As Disney portrayed
They took all the truth
And from it they strayed
You see, Texas back then
Was just North Mexico
Where riff-raff and restless
Americans go
And when they wanted out
From the Mexican rules
They needed a war
And political tools
The fight that took place there
Was just what was needed
The “bad guys” were ruthless
The “good guys” defeated
Sure there were heroics
But not all of them heroes
Some of them nothing but
Thugs, thieves and zeroes
Who happened to be there
When Mexico fought
To keep what was their’s
And America sought
If you care to discuss this
The who, what and why
Come to our meeting
On the 28th of July

Mdailey 6/24/10

My Blessed House

We just moved into our new house this past week.  Needless to say, things have been a bit hectic around here. 
I don’t know about your house
But I know about mine
I’m not all that religious
But I now live in a shrine
This wasn’t how we planned it
But when things got out of hand
My wife “God Blessed” everything in sight
I hope He’ll understand

Mdailey 8/5/10

Twenty-Six Cheerleaders

Did you ever wonder how many bodies it would take to overload an elevator - or what would happen if you did overload it.  Today is the anniversary of an event that happened at the University of Texas back in 08.

Twenty-six girls thought they would all fit within
Twenty-six girls both the fat and the thin
Twenty-six girls and there could have been more
But the twenty-sixth girl had to close the damn door

The lights were too hot so the girls said to dim it
But not before one of them read the lift’s limit
And using round figures they added up weight
But got to the answer a little too late

So twenty-six girls in a box fast descended
Till they hit the ground floor and their fall quickly ended
Shaken, not stirred, they all wanted out
But the door wouldn’t budge so they started to shout

Twenty-six girls in a movable box
They’re on the ground floor and the door somehow locks
They shimmy and shake till a cell phone appears
911 is soon called so they practiced some cheers

And the serious firemen all had to grin
Thinking twenty-six cheerleaders all crammed within
Twenty-six bodies pressed all to the wall
And all of this happened in old Jester Hall

Mdailey     08/07/08
Police free 26 cheerleaders from elevator at University of Texas' Jester Hall
11:19 AM CDT on Wednesday, August 6, 2008 - - - By RACHEL SLADE / The Dallas Morning News
Police and firefighters were called to the University of Texas' Jester Hall to free 26 cheerleaders who had crammed themselves into an elevator. A group of 14- to 17-year-olds attending Texas Cheer Camp in Austin decided to see how many girls they could squeeze into the elevator around 6 p.m. Tuesday, campus police said. The elevator successfully descended from the fourth floor to the first, but the doors refused to open. The panicked girls managed to wiggle a few cell phones free to call for help. But it took about 25 minutes before a repairman was able to fix the door, police said. “It’s dangerous actually,” said Rhonda Weldon, director of communications for the UT Police Department. "They’re lucky that that’s all that happened." One teen fainted and was treated and released from a nearby hospital. Two others were treated at the scene. “Take the sign seriously,” Ms. Weldon said. “There are signs everywhere: No more than 15 people or 3,000 pounds.” (those 26 cheerleaders had to average under 115 lbs to stay within the load limit of the elevator)

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Catching Up - Again

I had to do a little catching up again.  With the move to the new house, I just have not gotten around to posting poems as I would like to.  So I added 4-5 tonight.  Let me know what you think of them.

Down on the Gulf

No explanation needed for this latest poem on the oil spill.

Down on the gulf
A storm is a brew’en
The pipeline is broken
The oil just a spwe’en
No matter the fix
Those folks are pursue’en
It doesn’t look like
They know what they’re do’en

Yea, down on the gulf
The boats aren’t a fish’en
The oil’s in the way
On the waves it’s a swish’en
So fish are all dying
And it ain’t from attrition
And cleaning the gulf’s
Now a world-wide mission

Yea, down on the gulf
The world is just waiting
While those in high places
Are simply debating
The blame for the spill
And what it’s creating
To tell you the truth
This is just so frustrating

Mdailey 7/1/10

The Osprey

We have an Osprey nest down by one of the club houses and I try to see what is in it every time I drive by.  just the other day, one of the parents flew down our street - maybe 100 feet off the ground - with a fish in its talons on the way back to the nest and the two young ospreys.

A regal
Sea eagle
The Osprey
Who builds their nest high in the trees
With a beautiful view
Seen by so few
As they rest
In their nest
In the breeze.

Mdailey 7/3/10

Obama Claimed Success

Just a little political note.  While I am not a very political person, I love to poke fun at those in office - no matter the party - when I see or hear about things that just don't seem right to me.  there was a headline in the paper the other day about how the econlmy has finally come around and Obama himself seemed to be claiming credit.

Obama himself claimed success
The economy’s fixed, no more mess
But most still have the fears
That it’s all smoke and mirrors
And this claim they can’t quite injest

With employment hitting new lows
What we earn, well it so quickly goes
If this is success
Then I must confess
I don’t know success when it shows

Mdailey 7/16/10

Gator Rules

The newest edition of the Ocean Ridge Newsletter just came out and it had an article on aligators sighted in OR.  It also had one of my gator poems in it.  But I decided that the newsletter did not tell the complete story on how to react to gators seen within the plantation so I wrote the following and had it sent out to all the residents via an internal distribution system.

Please don’t feed the gators
They eat enough as is
Though they may look real peaceful
They’ll gladly eat your kids
Save your crumbs for seagulls
Or turtles by the pools
But please don’t feed the gators
It’s so against the rules.

And golfers, while we’re at it
Don’t poke them with your clubs
That might just sound like fun to you
Ah, but here’s the rub
They’re quicker than you think they are
Don’t poke the resting giant
You might end up a mid-day snack
Come on guys, be compliant

Mdailey 8/2/10

Our New House

We finally completed the building of our new house and I wrote this poem about the experience.  Please keep in mind that I have adopted various traits of the poetic license I maintain.  some things are streteched - some are diminished.  All lines have a grain of truth to them but everything is written tongue-in-cheek.  This poem may not be completely factual.

If you’ve got a marriage
That you think is strong
Just build your own house
I mean, what could go wrong
Well, listen my friend
And heed my advice
That angel you married
Might not be that nice
There are so many decisions
That you’ll have to make
And no matter your choices
She’ll say that’s a mistake
Oh, she’ll tell you she loves you
And she values your thoughts
But will question decisions
As each thing is bought
It’s not that I’m perfect
There is room to improve
But I’m not second guessing
Each move after move.
She’ll ask does this counter
Go with this faucet – this sink?
Is this color too dark?
Dear, what do you think?
She’ll drag you around
To sub-contractors each day
But won’t really care
What you have to say
She has final control
Of what isn’t – what is
Then complains to her friends
“This house is all his.
Let’s put in shutters
No – let’s put in blinds.
Let’s change the colors
That’s dull – but that shines.
I think that the floor
Should be shiny – no flat!
And how bout this chair,
Does this go with that?
We have to buy mirrors
But your choice is too round
I went antique hunting
Dear, look what I found.
Let’s take that one back
Can’t you find the receipt?”
And day after day
It’s repeat and repeat
Now the house is complete
And I’m pleased as can be
But I don’t think my angel
Is speaking to me
Oh, I’m not that worried
And you too will find
She’ll come back around
Once she changes her mind


Mdailey 8/2/10

Male Rights

My former co-workers were questioning possible changes in me since retirement and stressing the need to maintain the evolutionary advantaages man has acquired over women through the ages.  I replied with "I get it" and this poem.

It's the male of the species
Whose rights we must address
He's lost so much of maleness
All under sheer duress
It's the female of the species
(The ones that wear a dress)
That have the rights once solely male
And poor man has got so less

We men must stand together
For this is not a game
Women's rights are all the rage now
And the government's to blame
If we let them harm the species
We should hang our heads in shame
Those rights through evolution
We must fight so they remain

Mdailey 8/3/10

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Catching Up

I have just posted about a dozen poems that I had previously posted on facebook.  Once through the new posts of 20 July, you will find poems that have not been posted anywhere else.

BTW - I appear to be stuck on 17 followers.  Isn't there anyone you can tell about this site that will sign up to be a follower?  AND I really want some feedback.  If not on this site, send me an e-mail or post something on my facebook.


Selling Off Roy Rogers

this is another poem first published on facebook on the day the auction was announced.

They’re selling off Roy Rogers
His stuff is Christie’s bound
They had moved it all to Branson
Now they’ve shut the museum down
You know they stuffed old Trigger
Then Bullet was stuffed too
They didn’t stuff Roy Rogers
They heard it was taboo
And even Dale’s sweet Buttercup
Is on the auction block
Someone may want them in their den
And there’s other stuff in stock
Remember how Pat Brady
Chased Roy in Nellybelle
Well that jeep’s now on sale
You can bid on that as well
Or how bout Roy’s cowboy boots
They’re bronzed – about $4 grand
And pictures of our Roy and Dale
Taken on their land
And if you’re into baseball
Roy had signed balls
By many Hall of famers
In shelves upon his walls
If you want a piece of Roy
Or the horse he rode in on
Get your bids somehow to Christie’s
Before the stuff is gone

Happy Trails to you
Until we meet again

Mdailey 7/13/10

Astronaut: Aliens Are Real

Well, the conspiracy had to crack sometime. Edgar Mitchell, an astronaut on Apollo 14 and the sixth man to walk on the moon, told Kerrang Radio that we're not alone in the universe and the government knows all about it.

I tell you they’re real
My mind’s sharp and clear
They’re real and unearthly
And they’ve landed right here
I’ve been to the moon
And I know what I’m saying
I’ve been down in Roswell
And I know where they’re staying
I’ve been on the inside
The few who - - - well, knew
Real contacts been made
The stories are true
The Air Force and NASA
Want to keep under cover
The fact that their aircraft
At times sit and hover
Or follow our planes
And cruise by our space station
And they’ve done it for years
Maybe since the creation
And I’ll tell the whole story
And raise quite a racket
If I can get out of
This frickin straight jacket

By Edgar Mitchell (Apollo 14)
Mdailey    07/31/08


July 14 is the anniversary of the sale of Budweiser Beer to one of the big European beer companies.

America’s lost a great Icon
We sold Busch, our own “king of Beers”
An American tradition been ended
That lasted for one fifty years
St. Louis is feeling love lost
The senior Busch spins in his grave
But the 52 billion they offered

Caused the Busch family owners to cave
Not sure how this will impact the beer taste
Not sure that we’ll notice the change
But Bud’s now a foreign domestic
A non-sequitur title quite strange

Mdailey   07/14/08

Advice from Uncle Mike

Posted on facebook when the weather turned hot.

The current wet bulb globe temperature
Is 93.5
A reading where the experts say
It’s hard just to survive
Their warnings start at 82
And end at 88
If you’re outside at 93
It probably is too late
Avoid outside activities
Don’t work out in the sun
And if you’ve any brains at all
Don’t stay out there for fun
Find someplace air conditioned
While we’re saddled with this spike
Be safe, stay in, stay cool
That’s advice from Uncle Mike

Mdailey     06/10/08

Billions of Dollars

Defense Department cannot fully account for $7.8B spent in Iraq By Dan Friedman CongressDaily May 22, 2008. that was the headline a couple of years ago.  This week we had almost the same headline but for Afaganastan and the money has gone up.

We’ve paid Billions of Dollars out there in Iraq
Billions of dollars we’ll never get back
Billions of dollars whose papers we lack
Billions of dollars they say
Billions of dollars for service and goods
Billions of dollars of what ifs and coulds
Billions of dollars in bad neighborhoods
Billions of dollars they say

We’ve got guys out there toting suitcases of cash
Handing out money both ruthless and rash
Money that’s going away in a flash
Billions of dollars they say

And we haven’t got paperwork to back up these buys
Haven’t got paperwork to explain whats and whys
Haven’t got paperwork from none of these guys
Billions of dollars they say

The GAO IG just threw up his hands
Threw out the cases, threw out the plans
Billions, like water thrown out on the sands
Billions of dollars they say

Are there steps being taken to stem this cash flow
Steps being taken to soften the blow
Steps being taken (the answer is NO)
Billions of dollars they say

Mdailey    05/23/08


When given a copy of a report on collecting methane gas from cows as a renewable source of energy, one of our action officers mentioned that - - - As a mater of fact, I was involved in a similar project about 15 years ago, although we were using chicken shit and pig shit. Lots of that in Eastern shore and N. Carolina. World wasn't ready for the project, which we imported from the UK, and it died. No support from Corporate or Ag department, although did get a grant from state of West Virginia, and installed a pilot project there for $300k which rapidly turned into a $1.2M project and that's why Corp pulled the plug. And in true real business fashion, all parties involved except me were "let go" after squandering $900k dollars of profit.

Be it cow, pig or chicken
A poop pile will thicken
When left out too long in the sun
As the crap decomposes
It makes one supposes
Just what all these gasses could run
Well it seem our own Jack
Has knowledge and knack
On research that's already done
So it's obvious to me
He's our Poop Pile POC
For in crap, he is second to none!

Golden Glaze Donuts

I posted this on facebook when a lot of the St. Joe folks said that Golden Glaze donuts were better than the Krispy Kreme glazed I had written about a day ago.

All though I’ve been gone for many a days
I fondly recall those great Golden Glaze
Warm from the oven; they melt on your tongue
Oh, to be back there with donuts (and young)
Though I haven’t had them for ages it seems
My pallet for Golden Glaze donuts still screams
And I only taste them in my fondest dreams
Till back in St. Joe, I’ll eat glazed Krispy Kremes.

Mdailey 7/16/10

Raleigh – we have a problem

As part of state energy laws, electrical power companies are required to generate nearly 0.1% of North Carolina’s total retail electricity sales from swine waste by 2012.

Raleigh, we have a problem - our pigs are contributing poop
But none of it generates power that enters our energy loop
The pigs do their best, to do what you ask
From the smell of the farms, they are good at the task
But the holdup’s converting to burnable gas
Raleigh, we have a problem

So what do you do when the law says you must
Produce saleable energy from poop or go bust
Maybe pigs aren’t the answer and you have to adjust
Raleigh, do we have a problem

If it’s power you want from new energy sources
You have to throw in all the cows and the horses
That is if the House and Senate endorses
Raleigh, do we have a problem

Or maybe you’d better just turn to the hills
Where folks in the state have perfected the skills
Of producible burnable fuel from stills
Raleigh, do we have a problem

Mdailey 7/16/10

As part of state energy laws, electrical power companies are required to generate nearly 0.1% of North Carolina’s total retail electricity sales from swine waste by 2012.

California Cows Start Passing Gas to the Grid

I posted this on facebook the other day but facebook posts seem to go away after awhile so I am reposting this here.

Imagine a vast vat of liquid
Covering 5 football fields
33 feet deep in manure
Think of the energy yields

When big piles are seen
Of manure all green
Most people just see piles of crap
But if truth be told
It's a pile of pure gold
When you siphon off gasses you trap

On a dairy farm in Golden State
Experts on gas sit and wait
They push poop in a hole
Cover it like a bowl
And just let the gas ruminate

With nearly 2 million cows in this far western state
You have to admit the potential is great
Just getting these cows to be hole-potty trained
Will yield a great deal of cow-poop methane

And the methane gas gathered this way
Can be sold to the grid so they say
So the smell's not quite honey
It's the smell of good money
And we've finally made gas passing pay

So that's what this company did
With some cows and a hole with a lid
With a scoop and a scrub
And this gigantic tub
Cows are now passing gas to the Grid

Mdailey   03/05/08

Red Lights Turn Green

I just read an article in the Audubon magazine on how a brothel in Berlin, Germany’s red light district is going green by offering a five-euro discount (about $7 American) to any client that arrives via bike or public transportation and can prove it with a helmet, lock, or valid ticket. The incentive is bringing in 3-5 new clients daily as well as decreasing traffic congestion in the area.
Red lights have gone dim on their street
And the girls have few patrons to greet
They must get the hoi polloi
To the things they enjoy
If they’re going to make both ends meet
To battle economy blues
A brothel in Berlin did choose
To give a discount
To those who did mount
A bike just to get to their muse

The bikers’ reaction was quick
Every Tom, every Harry and Dick
Now the red light’s turned green
And success can be seen
The incentive is turning the trick

Mdailey 7/18/10

Friday, July 16, 2010

I Believe in Angels

Hello - anyone out there reading these?  Please let me know.

I believe in angels
My mom was one I swear
She raised a loving family
With tender love and care
She wasn’t always perfect
But few have ever been
But I believe in angels
For I saw one glow within

I believe in angels
I even married one
Until the day I met her

My life was just ho-hum
But once she said she loved me
My life began again
So I believe in angels
For I’ve seen one glow within

I believe in angels
I saw one just today
Sleeping in her mother’s arms
In a most angelic way
She hasn’t got her wings yet
But when I see her grin
I so believe in angels
For I see the glow within

Angels are around us
If you open up your eyes
They’re not the kind with big wings
That just hovers in the skies
They simply walk among us
So why not on a whim
Look around for angels
You’ll see them glow within

Mdailey 6/19/10

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Say What?

Speaking of the new immigration laws like the one just put in place in Arizona -  here is a poem I wrote a year or so ago to try to put into understanding a blurb I read on what the feds wanted to do to a previous law on the books.  first is the blurb then what I think it was really saying...
DHS seeks approval on employment verification rule fix By Kasie Hunt, CongressDaily
The Homeland Security Department made changes this week to rules governing how employers must respond when a worker provides employment information that does not match government records, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff said today. The changes are designed to address the concerns of Judge Charles Breyer of San Francisco, who last year blocked the department's no-match program -- an initiative that would open companies employing illegal immigrants to criminal prosecution if they receive a no-match letter from the government. Chertoff said the department will take the new rules back to the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California and ask Breyer to lift the injunction. "This week, I signed the final rule that revises the original rule and addresses the issues that the court raised," Chertoff said. "We will ask the court to lift the injunction and let us proceed with implementation of the rule."

I read this news article and loved the gobbledygook way they tried to explain what they did. I still do not completely understand what was said and I probably got it all wrong but I loved playing with their words. Again – sorry it is not very PC

I signed the rule
That revised the tool
That addressed all the issues raised
We must lift the injunction
That impedes the function
That Homeland Security praised
And those paperwork shirkers
With illegal workers
Will not be subjected to fines
And the wet-back Hispanic
Do not need to panic
When standing in employment lines
To solve illegal migration
We as a nation
Must go back to Congress once more
And ask that our border
Be brought back to order
And end it with a “Por Favor”.


Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Thinking of You

Here is another poem I wrote for my wife that she has yet to see.  I wonder how long it will be before she stumbles on this or one of you tell her to check out my blog. As you can see by the date, I wrote it quite some time ago but never found the right time or place to give it to my wife.   I like to post things like this every once in a while just to see if anyone at all is reading them and if they are, do they share them with anyone else - to include my wife.

I lie in bed thinking of you
About how much I love you
Was it love at first sight
That gets renewed every night
I lie in bed thinking of you

We were young and fool hardy
Thinking life was just a party
Didn’t know it would last
That was way in the past
When we were young and fool hardy

I found me a treasure
So much I couldn’t measure
We’ve been through thick and thin
And I would do it all again
Cause I found me a treasure

I lie in bed thinking of you
About how much I love you
Was it love at first sight
That gets renewed every night
I lie in bed thinking of you

Mdailey 8/31/09

Border Crossings

With the advent of the new Arizona law, the subject of borders and the crossing thereof is back in the news.
"Every person in Congress has an idea of how we can secure our border." "Some say, 'Well, all we have to do is build a fence.' At first they wanted to do a 10-foot fence. Now it's 16 feet. Now people come with a 17-foot ladder. So somebody said, 'Well, why don't we put a moat around it and rebuild it and put alligators in it, and that will make it more secure." 
Of course I had to weigh in with my thoughts on the subject as well.

Border Crossings

We’ve got a border to secure
To keep bad folks out I’m sure
But a fence it must endure repeated breechings
And every him and her
In Congress with a cure
Says our plans are immature and keep on screeching
A 10 foot fence is no deterrent
Sixteen’s the thinking current
But bring a ladder and that’s all she wrote
So maybe alligators
Water too high for hip-waders
We’re thinking maybe we should build a moat

So let’s just build the fence in pairs
In between we’ll stuff with bears
Who’ll scare off most and eat up all the rest
And electrify the wire
Turn the power each day higher
Survival of the fittest at its best
So what’s each mile going to cost?
The calculations all been lost
But they say they’re going to figure out the bill
It started out at three
But grew from there you see
The latest number’s something like 6 Mil

And 6 million for each mile
Will add up after while
I mean the border’s 700 miles long
But that’s just the Southern fence line
We’ve a North one to build in kind
Can’t we see that something has gone wrong?
Just what are we protecting?
What lose are we projecting
And every day the cost just seems to double
No matter what we do or say
They’ll get across them anyway
Why should we even go to all this trouble?


Tuesday, July 13, 2010

A John Named George

Did you ever notice that once someone big leaves political office, someone in each state finds something to name after that person.  Some of the proposals are right on the money and so very appropriate.  Here is one that some might question while others applaud.

Movement to Rename Sewage Plant After Bush Gains Steam in San Francisco  ~ A renegade voter movement to rename a San Francisco Sewage Plant after President Bush is flush with support - -

As Presidents go, this one has been blessed
With grassroots support from the guys in the West
They want to highlight the highs of his former reign
By putting his name on their State-of-Art drain
They want this on a ballot and expect it to pass
This movement is fluid, this movement has gas
“This makes every toilet a shrine to George Bush
A salute to the man with each plant of your tush”
Affluent – effluent, both linked to his rule
Which better describes him, the tool or the stool?
Insult or praise from the Looney-bin folks
It will go on the ballot, will it get enough votes?
While his pundits don’t describe him as dapper
Can we still put his name on this San Fran crapper?
The sewage plant owners get the joke so they say
They just wish this movement could just slip away
They know there’ll be rumblings but they don’t want to stain
This man’s contributions with his name on their drain