The Strangely Pink Kayak: And Other Words from an Old Man's Mind

By Robert Lynch

This book of poems is, at times, a journal of some of my experiences, although sometimes it is tongue-in-cheek, or wishful thinking. It probably reflects accurately how an older person with years under his belt assesses life. (though, sometimes, its just goofiness). That’s what life should be.. serious, happy, and silly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Nov 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781489731807

Robert Lynch

Bob is 85 years old, but still growing up, hopefully never reaching that point where he is content, and feeling that he now knows everything. All his adult life he worked for IBM as a large system computer serviceman. The most important parts of his life are/were his two wives, one still living, and his children. Bob is happy to still be here, and is looking forward to more good stuff that will happen.

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Copyright © 2020 Robert Lynch.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-3178-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3179-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-3180-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020921669

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 11/17/2020

CONTENTS

The Strangely Pink Kayak

Perceived Pretentiousness

The Strangely Pink Kayak

A Kiss To Make It Better

The Old Man’s Walk

Advice To People Shaped Like Me

Tippy Lizards

An Insomniac’s Nightmare

Come, Dine With Me

The Tree That Would Not Move

Armadillidiidae

Sculpted Clouds

Wind Chimes And Wind Spinners

Blorp

The Man With An Abundance

Of Nostril Hair

A Man And His Duck

Cats

Round Things Roll

The Short Stay

A Second Coat Of Color

Excerpt From The Diary Of A Young Lad

Across The River

Beware The Man

Dead Worm

The Superannuated Man

Twiddle

A Bad Day For Creatures

Between Eternities

A Perky Day

French Snails

Expressed Opinion

Pin Holes

Airplane

Beauty In The Wood

Are We Just A Dream ?

Clouds

How Did I Get Inside Of Me

Note To The Robin In My Patio

The Candle

School Crossing-Guard

A Spring Day

Things Old

Singing Just For Me

I Love Ya, Tomorrow

It’s On My List

At A Loss For Words

Alzheimer’s Ghost

This Nearly Perfect Day

Barber Shop Sweepings

Apostle, Epistle

My Life Rhymes

Talking To Myself

Always Learning

Close Your Eyes

Faster And Faster

Who

Moments

Artists

Morning Glories

I Would

The Lonely Owl

Cherries

Autumn Walk

I Hop

A Slice Of Time

Bite Me Gently

Sweet Summer, Please Don’t Go

An Old Man’s Fancy

A Gift

I’d Know Most Everything

Baby Spiders

Close Shave

Dust Mite Droppings

One Walker

Thou Noble Knight

Autumn

Curtain Falling

Impatient Cashier

Dress Socks And Jeans

A River’s Story

Battling Clothes Hangers

God’s Free Time

The Reincarnation Of Yu Sing Hi

Exotica

Chrysalis

The Wooden Duck

Eighty-Six Steps

El Barko!

Blessed

Black On White Or White On Black

Giant

Yea, Verily (Yes, In Truth)

Autumn’s Blackbirds

Head Of Bone

Nudity And The Goldfish

Blue Heron From The Sky

The Loon’s Song

Bones

An Ozark Mountain Love Poem

Father Time

Black-Eyed Susan

I Need A Poem Tonight

Woodpecker

Cheerfuls

Two Gardens

Foggy Morning

Clumsy Man

I Feel It

I’d Like To

Home Improvement

Complicated Forms Are We

My Friend, The Chipmunk

Black Sky

My Private Zoo

My Wiener Dog And Me

I Am Ant

Little Boy’s Journal

Now You’ve Done It, You Old Fool !

Cold

Worm Honeymoons

Conversation With A Green Grasshopper

Rain

Nursing Home Lady

The Gravitational Man

I’ve Seen Your Wings

Hello Stranger

A Brief Trip To Another World

I Yam What I Yam

The Newly Attentive Parrot

Which Is Real

Winter’s Smile

Cool Of The Night

Searching For God

Crooked Tree

The Talking Mime

Of Things Which Came To Pass

Lucky Birds

If You Fall

Nighttime Visitors

Just Wait

Turmoil

Ducklings, In A Row

Contentment

A Moving Experience

I’ll Stay Here

The Slow Lane

One Autumn’s Night

Introspection

I’ll Sit Here

Fruit Flies As Pets

The Wiener

Bullfrog

Gargoyle

Wisdom

The Park Bench Full Of Dreams

In My Arms

All

The Dancing, Seductive Cream Puff

Imagine

The Pessimist

Diamonds In The Northwoods

Cold Reality

Lonely Tree

Words Of Rhyme

Sequence Sensitive

Some Pants

Rhymes In The Heart

Leonardo And I

The Naive Monk

Life’s Stoplight

Dragonfly

Lilliput

Toenails

The Outdoor Hot Tub

Hoppity Squirrel

Doing Nothing, In A Dream

Love Is A Rose

Inspiration

The Provider

Night Lights

The Barnyard Debate

Thirst

Doggerel

Marshmallows In Hot Chocolate

The Smiling Mirror

At Last, He Can Fly

Colors Lent

Disgruntled And Disturbed

Dream Polisher

Northwoods Musical

Moon Shadows

Down’s Syndrome

Dream Catcher

Where Do I Begin

Evermore

You Don’t Have To Follow Me

Except The Breeze

Mind’s Kaleidoscope

Existence

Yesteryear

Winter Thieves

Gps Lady

Stardust

The Big Lie

Grooming

No More ?

An Old Man’s Poem

Winter Scene

Green Tea And Sugar Cookies

Pinch The Moon

I, Reaper

Letting Go

Jack-O-Lantern

Winter Storm

In The Garden

The Assemblers

Mental Winds Of Time

Rabbit

I’m Glad I’m Me

Old Mind

Ogg, In Love

Metamorphosis

Phrogs And Phlegm

Image

Pampas Grass

The Breeze That Warmed Our Stuff

The Caterpillar Kind

Thieves

The Intelligent Lemming

The Handyman, Crouching, With Cleft In His

The Dream

My Shirt And Pants

Someday, I Will Fly

My List Of Things To Do Today

The Old Man On The Bench

In Silence

Obviously

The Picture On The Wall

Not Yet

It’s Been So Dry

Raspberry’s From My Pants

Winter Of My Dreams

Old Shadow

The Casino

The Heroic Ant

Little Girl, At Appleton’s Farmer’s Market

Tonight’s Symphony

The Chicken Egg Poem

The Path

Shy Words

Where Dreams Begin

Poppies

The Lake

Of Late, I Have Spent

Some Time Thinking

Religious Pie

The Wild Seed

On College Avenue

Pictures On My Lawn

The Pickled Man

Stationary Ants

Snowfall

The Old Man

Sleepy Poem

The Conversation

Oasis In The Sands Of Time

Shakespeare, And The

Advantage Of Being Chubby

The Reaper

Life’s Truth, Distilled

Teaching Baby To Walk

The Secretive Trees

The Butterfly

Doing My Part To Make A Happier World

Mosquito In The Outhouse

Underwear Dance

Another Dimension

Patterns

Renaissance Man

The Purpose Of Navels

The Supremely Accurate Old Rifleman

Abstract Art

Superman

The Unique Bug

Sun And Moon And Shadows And Shoes

The Missing Fig Leaf

Perhaps This Is My Final Day

Perhaps

The Bird

Perspective

The Cat Whispered

Old Man’s Words

Terse Verse

This Useful Tree

Smiling, Just For Fun

When I, My Baked Potato Eat

Our Search

Slowly

Upside-Down

Philosophy 101

The Fortune Teller

Painting The Sky

Which Are Flowers?

People And People And People

This Perfect Night

Shadow Patterns On My Wall

Reincarnation

Souls Completed

Seagulls

Posterior Pulchritude

The Bug

Sibilantly Speaking

To Each His Own

Superman’s Baby

Take My Breath Away

Summer`S Rain

Wandering Spirit

Time Travelers

Vulgar

Snowflakes

Summer’s Pictures

Our Song

Bernie’s Name

Footprints In The Snow

You Are My Poem

Shadows

When God Smiled In This Place

Hello, Pretty Lady

Because I Gave My Heart Away

Rhyme Or Reason

A Term Of Endearment

Soon, All New Things We Have To Say

Mary’s Things

Night’s Silence

What Shall We Do Tonight?

THE STRANGELY PINK KAYAK

And Other Words From An Old Man’s Mind

This book is dedicated to my first wife, Bernice, who made my

life worthwhile, and who is responsible for the way our children

became the amazing people they became - and to these children,

in the order of their appearance on earth:

Karen, Thomas, Richard, and James.

It is also dedicated to my second wife, Mary, who made me

happy again, and her children, (my stepchildren), who are also

amazing, in the order of their appearance:

Laureen, Lynn, David, William, Steven, and Bryan

Also, an honorable mention to all who have read my emailed

poems, and for some strange reason suggested that I publish

them. (you know who you are) In fact, the only reason that

I am publishing them is because those suggestions were made.

Because the poems I write are oftentimes my journal, the words

and phraseology that I use are clear to me. I do hope that they

are the same for you. To my relief, there is such a thing known

as ‘poetic license’, which allows me to put comas in the wrong

places, make up words, and violate rules of good grammar.

My license is applied for.

Before I was old enough to read, my mother would read stories

and poems to me, and I was surprised at how the rhymes would

have much more flavor than the non-rhyming stories. Maybe

this explains why I like rhymes so much.

By the way, I got a 30 percent discount on that pink kayak,

because no one else would buy one of that color.

PERCEIVED PRETENTIOUSNESS

My keyboard keys now go to sleep,

as I, my eager fingers keep

from pressing tempting letters which lie on them.

Perceived pretentiousness, I fear,

from those who’ve let those letters near,

in rhyming words I’ve somehow based upon them.

But I am not a pompous one

who revels in the snobbish fun

of making others feel they are beneath me.

But I am one who finds a smile

in shiny words, of sparkly style,

which brighten gloomy shadows underneath me.

The cooler corners in my mind

still warm, when glowing words I find

can shed their kindly light, and make them gladder.

So still I search, but keep inside,

these stylish words which I have tried

to use, to keep my mind from growing sadder.

Though now I think, perhaps, that I

will take the chance, and sharing, try

to let some others know what feelings guide me.

They should not see pretension there,

but just my need to write, and share

my rhyming words, which cause the smiles inside me.

THE STRANGELY PINK KAYAK

(true story)

There, upon lake water black,

drifts a strangely pink kayak.

Old man wearing hair of gray,

slowly paddles time away.

Slowly, slowly, time he takes,

paddles dip, leave silver wakes.

Shoreline’s green moves past him now,

lonely loon drifts near his bow.

Quiet, solitary loon,

long time sung his looney tune.

Matching well the old man’s pace,

seeking company with chase ?

Here no current, here no breeze,

old man strokes along with ease.

Loon seems quite at ease as well,

webbed feet, underneath, propel.

Side by side, the new friends ride,

there, on water’s surface glide.

Then the loon slips down below,

where small, tasty fishes go.

Man becomes alone again,

till the loon returns and then,

with no effort, both pretend

this kind day will never end.

A KISS TO MAKE IT BETTER

A little boy, when once was I,

and tears grew wet.. and wetter..

my mother took away my cry

with kiss to make it better.

But older, soon from young fear freed,

this fact did not upset her..

that when pain came, I did not need

her kiss to make it better.

Now older yet, though she’s not here,

how eagerly I’d let her..

make all my sadness disappear,

with kiss to make it better.

THE OLD MAN’S WALK

This Fall day would invite a walk

on city sidewalks, scrawled with chalk..

marks faded from the warmer day

when warmer children stopped to play.

The old man watched the concrete stroll

of caterpillars, with one goal..

to cross this concrete desert, wide,

and find warmth on the other side.

And each one seemed to be inclined

to travel with that thought in mind,

though one came back, to news confide

that cold’s still cold on other side.

All nature told itself, and man,

that they must do the best they can

to be prepared for winter’s wrath,

and seek themselves a warmer path.

So geese formed V’s from boisterous crowd,

and psyched themselves with shouting, loud,

and old man covered up his ears,

for hearing aids aid what he hears.

And now, the edge of town appeared,

and man upon a new path, steered

his feet and thoughts, to country things

to find things, on his wanderings.

His path led toward some dried-up weeds,

who long ago gave up their seeds

and flowers to this time of year,

when wild things, in their brown appear.

But they held beauty in his eyes,

and he considered them a prize

to pick, and share with wife at home,

who this day, did not share his roam.

Then, just before his walk was through,

he found a place where milkweeds grew,

and stems were dry, so snapped and clicked

when happily, a pod was picked.

Some viewers just might think it odd

that this old man, with milkweed pod,