Once Upon a Time . . . Undefeated

By Joseph J. Fontana

Joseph John Fontana (1935-2021) was born in Chicago, Illinois. He was raised by a large, close-knit, Sicilian-American family, which included working in his father’s shoe shop as he was growing up. Joe was a loving husband, father, and grandfather, a devoted and beloved pastor, and a gifted poet, publishing four books and earning several awards. He was an avid Chicago Cubs fan, a skilled poker player, and a semi-pro catcher and second baseman in his younger years.
As an old friend said, “His poetry, his wit, his caring and compassion and his friendship will be remembered by all of us whose life he touched.”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664184282

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Joseph J. Fontana.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 07/09/2021

Xlibris

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Contents

Speak To Me

Old Man Rollins

Once Upon A Time . . . Undefeated

Sunday Worship

On The Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Of My First Kiss

The Clock

Tears

Thank God

It Can’t Be Spring Already?

He Never Ate A Persimmon

A Summer Place

The Great American Sport

Air Raid Drill

Time And I

Don’t Lacquer The Buttercup

Old Men Need The Sun

Just Making A Living

The End Of Winter

A Moment In Passion Park

Bitter Honey

Mother Nature

In The Morning, Let’s Become Knights

Silver Jubilee: A Reunion

On Reading Your Strategies For Survival

White Carnation

Is

Echoes Of A Dream

And The Old Lady Laughs

In Memory Of My Godfather

The Nature Of Prayer

Autumn

Hail The Week-End Voyeur

All Emperors Have A Glass Jaw

He’s My Son

Rabbits Can’t Play Football, No How

The Echoes Of A Dream

To The Woman Who Is Marrying My Friend

Tutors And Friends

Children Need Heroes, It Says Here

I Have Something To Say

On Reading Her Measures

The Ritual

Hitchhiker

At The Risk Of Polluting Your Environment

Hamburger Square

Old Woman, Old Man, Old Love

The Ragsniron Man, R.I.P.

In The Distance Between

I Rode The Back Of A Turtle

Gibran

I’ll Never Fly Again

Thursday Evening

Blues

Last Night I Had A Very Private Dream

Come In, Unity

Farewell, Chicago

Every October We Make Wine

Flip Flop

Handwriting On The Wall

Grounded

Valentine’s Day For Nancy

Somewhere

I Have Something To Say

The Last Prophet

Whatever It Is

Merry Christmas

About The Author

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Speak To Me

I talk you

talk I

question you

respond I

frown I

cry I

guess we are

animals

with speech

but choose

not to understand

our language. . .

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Old Man Rollins

B. 1890 - D. 1970

Here lies Rollins the Hermit

He Lived Off The Land

Kept To His Own

                                Tombstone in Peoria County, Illinois

Yes sir old man

Rollins the Hermit

he I s dead

I found him

in his pasture

tending his cow

I guess he knew it

was coming

back of that old

mulberry tree

the one lightning

hit in ’46 you recall

we were friends

you might say I was

the only one

who talked to him

besides Samuel

once a week

Old Rollins came

to town to buy

a bit of goods

and that old timer

kept his house

in order I’ll tell you

since his folks

died he lived

off the land

about forty years

he never married

too ordinary a man

he’d say to me

too ordinary

a man

he went out in style

new pants and shirt

from Samuel I s store

a genuine cedar box

with a purple sheet Mrs.

Adams dyed

one time he said

he l d ride out of town

in style and class

in a Caddie

though he never rode in

a car in his life

he saved up

about two hundred fifty

dollars for that ride

old man Jones

went clear out

to Peoria to rent

a new Caddie

but he couldn’t

get but a ’48 Nash

seems a big politician

in Springfield

wanted to go out

in style himself

and his folks

rented every Caddie

in sight

I’ll miss Old Rollins

yes sir he was a good

old fellow. . . never asking

for nothing and kept

out of people I s ways

Rollins the Hermit. . .

He lived off the land

and kept to his own

I’m surely going

to miss him ... you hear

he left the farm to me?

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Once Upon A Time . . . Undefeated

The grizzly paces her cage.

Another day, another rain.

Pacing, pacing, nails clicking

in ceaseless cadence, turns,

nose twitching, no sense left,

wandering blind

in measured steps,

fearless yet

fearful, on guard,

for the next sound,

could be real,

An old man, once a giant himself

Stops before her,

once fearless himself,

yet fearful,

remembering . . .

Old bear, you smell old to me.

Listen, if you can hear,

We share the miseries,

old bear, you and me.

Gray and grim, terrible

what’s left of