Monday, June 26, 2017



Gentle Reader,

What you’ll find below is an upside-down anthology of sorts: a journal of my frequent morning musings from January 2008 till now, in reverse order.

Much of what I write here is verse in traditional rhymed iambic pentameters, old fashioned in form but contemporary in topics and idiom. It asks to be read aloud so that the effects of rhyme and meter may be felt.

Sometimes I write brief prose essays, but even my verses are essays, or attempts, pursuing a line of thought to some conclusion, though more sonorously than those in prose: discursive verses, I call them.

In either case, you are the reader over my shoulder as I write, which makes my writing different than when I have no audience in mind but only a vague urge to express. So I thank you for whatever attention you give my words and thoughts and feelings because you might so easily attend to something else, and you soon will.

To beguile you to linger longer, though, I’ve coupled most of my compositions with a photo or image I’ve taken or borrowed, which often corresponds with my words of that day.

Thank you for visiting here.  I hope you enjoy your stay and are moved to come back soon.

                                                                                                                                            —Alan Nordstrom




                    Ten years from now, what issues in our news
                     Will disappear, no longer troubling us?
                     If I could pick, there’s one foremost I’d choose
                     So we’d no longer have such strain and fuss.
                     First off, of course, I’d start with dreadful war,
                     The worst of all the evils in the world,
                      Which only lunatics would not deplore,
                      A state where we’re in endless terror hurled,
                      A fundamental cause of which is greed,
                      The lust for power and supremacy,
                       From which by only love may we be freed
                       So we may live in health and harmony.
                            What would it take to bring about this state?
                             The sanity to choose love over hate.


Sunday, June 25, 2017


                                  “When e’re he made a meme,
                                   It raised his self esteem.”
                    The quote above occurred to me last night
                    While I had pen and paper near to write
                    Beside my bed, as often I will do
                    When thoughts occur that later I’ll pursue,
                    Though sometimes what I meant is enigmatic,
                    Like radio transmissions marred by static.
                    While often inconvenient, still these clues
                    Are messages to treasure from my Muse
                    And by the light of day to weave into
                    The fabric of a verse for pleasing you,
                    Dear reader, meant to elevate your mood.

                   (This meme, though, had been better unpursued.)


Saturday, June 24, 2017


                    For all that we’ve discovered and invented
                    Throughout the course of human history,
                    Though some of it must surely be lamented,
                    Much will be praised by all posterity.
                    Whatever’s served the purposes of war
                    And other kinds of deviant aggression
                    We must amend and earnestly deplore,
                    While making love our paramount profession.
                    That sapience for which we’re doubly named
                     Has yet to manifest itself outright,
                     And till we well express what we’ve proclaimed,
                     We shall remain our planet’s shameful blight.
                          Now is the time for humans to arrive
                          At wisdom that can keep us all alive.


Friday, June 23, 2017


                    The “VIDEO” bird is chirping lustily,
                    While up above a Cessna’s drone drifts off,
                    And now a 707 descends toward me
                    With others soon to follow, still aloft,
                    And all this morning ruckus keeps me from
                     Discovering a poem of any worth,
                     Leaving my stifled Muse abused and dumb,
                     Once copious but now, alas, in dearth.
                     But hark!  A sudden stillness has descended,
                    And maybe now my Muse may reappear—
                    Perhaps this vast cacophony has ended
                    And now a channel to the Source is clear.
                       A single warbler tweets, as if to say,
                       “The stage is yours: you may begin your play.”


Wednesday, June 21, 2017


                    What next in evolution might emerge
                    On planet Earth will doubtless be our doing,
                    And maybe even now we’re on the verge
                    Of what is worthiest for our pursuing.
                    What would that be but further to enhance
                    That sapience for which we’re doubly named,
                     Amounting to our noblest advance
                     Beyond the follies for which we’ve been blamed.
                     Wisdom indeed is our implicit goal,
                     What every human should be striving for;
                     Without attaining that we can’t be whole,
                     Yet finally achieving it, we’ll soar,
                          The highest state we hope to realize
                          Is mastering the art of being wise.


Monday, June 19, 2017


                                There was a Nova Scotian
                                Who sailed across the ocean
                                To reach the land of Goshen
                                Because he had a notion
                                He might there find a potion
                                To make into a lotion
                                 And thus earn a promotion.