Love is a choice, not a feeling, At least that Love which will endure. Feelings are transient, really, and feelings, like sand, are unsure. Love which endures will be patient, Love works to improve every day. Love is a choice, please remember this, should the stars in her eyes fade away.
based on an article I read recently about marriage and divorce
Someone has cut off my hands, not that it caused any pain. Look upon me, a proud man’s daughter, enjoy then what remains. My eyes will stare into your soul. My lips bear the trace of smile. My portrait has lent immortality to this woman who never had child.. I was both a wife and a lover, this painting was made for my swain, But he had both a wife and a mistress. In Florence he couldn’t remain. In me you will see light and darkness. Sadness is there in my eyes. My family has made me an older man’s bride; my circumstance breeds my disguise.
Her portrait hangs in the national gallery in Washington D.C. Her portrait painter made quite the name for himself when, thirty years later, he gave us the Mona Lisa
It’s a sad, sad scene on a Saturday night; a lady sits at the bar with no lover in sight. Stirring her drink with the straw in their hand, bemoaning the lack of a suitable man. She’s long since been abandoned by her ”Mister Right”, Now the magic never lasts for more than one night. She’s a leftover lover on the wrong side of thirty. Feeling sad for herself; not the least bit flirty. She has a good job and a place here downtown But a true mate and friend is nowhere to be found. No one to go home to, except for her kitty, A sad denouement for one once thought to be pretty. “Either they’re momma’s boys or they’re ***” She thinks of the “talent” she sees on display. She knows all too well that, in a drink or two, She’ll be stumbling home with Mister He’ll do.
Inspired by an article that posits that singles over the age of thirty are mostly damaged goods being picked over like items in a thrift store
A House divided cannot stand, though we try to preserve it no one can. Uncivil discourse leads to civil unrest. Both sides dig their heels in But no one is impressed. I recall this all happened once before when rancor escalated into civil war. Six hundred thousand died by the end and the weapons they used were inferior then. What will the butcher’s bill cost us this time? The hate of disunion- It Approaches
A play on words about the State of the Union address which will not be delievered
Sam Adams beer masters see there’s trouble brewing: This governmental shutdown is nothing of their doing. Still, their beer is piling up in barrels on the floor. For without Federal approval beer cannot be sold, by law. They crafted a delicious brew for bottles and for cans, But, due to the political climate change, they must make other plans. They’re stuck with vats of golden brew, the nectar of the gods But this shutdowns ending no time soon, per the bookies who quote odds To prevent their beers from going stale while the politicians clash They’re paying the workers by the ounce in lieu of paying cash.
Beer is piling up in the warehouses of Samuel Adam's Boston beer company. Apparently the Federal government beer inspectors are on hiatus.