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Poems and Thoughts by Frank Maurer

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Humor

Who's Really in Charge? opus 40

Oh, we humans are so clever
With our ability to precisely measure
Altitude or depth (anywhere)
Distance (down the road or the distance to Mars)
Time (sundials, a pocket watch, or a precise atomic clock)
Temperature (of the body or of a physical location)
Speed (of a Tesla or of a space station)
Ballots cast (hmm, well perhaps not this one!)
And so many more, but the question is

Why is there only a good but limited ten day weather forecast?

Who's really in charge?

A Jester opus 73

I have always wished to be a jester--
A clever jester who could guide the king
With such veiled honesty
That I would not lose my head,

But with such an advisory tact that the outcome
Would benefit the king and those in his kingdom.

It would be nice to have a few more jesters
Who might be heeded by our 'kingly' leaders,
Guiding us to a long reign of peace in our troubled world.

Turning the Tables on a Mess Together opus 195

Paul: Morning Frank. Sorry to mess you around,
But I need to push our lunch meet
Back to as far as 2 PM.
Does that still work for you?

Frank: How wonderful to have mess with you,
Breaking my fast from last night
At a more civilized hour!

Roadkill opus 261

Human deaths and roadkill involving deer
Are continually occurring with our invading highways
Into the unbounded wilderness which once reigned.
Many warning signs increased, declaring 'Deer Crossing'.
One woman in Michigan, who had collided with several deer,
Vociferously opposed these signs saying,
"The signs are only instructing deer to cross at a specific place,
And therefore should be removed to lessen these accidents." (!)

Oh, dear god, why can our early education
Not be more logically inclusive??

(Read 'Crossings' on roadkill by Ben Goldfarb.)

To Don, My Brother-in-Law opus 263

(A silly little verse to amuse him in his confinement.)

So you request sipping some vodka with tea,
Which you say must be imbibed together with me.
We have a long history of ups and downs together,
So we have much to chew on--and not just the weather.
It is nice to have revived our former involvement
And thus allow us ensemble, to fade into the firmament.

Two Possibilities opus 265

Headstones

    If the dates show
    the husband died
    shortly after the wife--

    first Gladys then Harry,
    Betty followed by Tim--

    the cause is often
    gradual starvation
    and not a broken heart.

So wrote Billy Collins
And I added:

And if the sequence occurs opposite--
Harry then Gladys,
Tim followed by Betty--

The cause is often sadness,
With no one to feed,
Or relief that the meat and
Potatoes man is gone
And she can now delve
Into more interesting recipes.

(Billy Collins, Musical Tables, 2022.)

A Saturday Morning Spass opus 491

I collect Neanderthal stone tools of various ilks.
I received, in the mail from France,
A chalcedony stone scraper
Which, with its pie-shaped 'sliver' and color,
Looked almost like the real thing!
Jessie, my helper, arrived to work,
Waiting for our planning chat.
I presented him with the cut 'pie piece'
On a plate accompanied with a fork.
He said, "Thank you', grabbed the fork
And 'cut' into the stone.
Of course, he realized it was a rock
And giggled with joy.
We all need more such experiences
To lighten our often mundane lives.

A New Country Called California! opus 512

Since I have come to California in 1978,
I have seen two attempts to divide the state
Into two or three separate and independent states.
Now there is a new initiative,
Signature collecting starting 23 January 2025,
That proposes a vote on whether or not California
Should become a free and independent country!
(This has also occurred in the history of this state.)
Perhaps some fear for the possible future of California,
Being part of an ever-more conservative world.
This is, of course, serious business for the state;
But to add a touch of humor to this pending vote,
I am wondering if the new national anthem
Will be officially sung in English or in Spanish?
Might it also mention that this territory is being
Now turned back to its original "European' owners?

A Child's Mind! 3 opus 515

Once again, my 4-year-old grandson, Rowan,
Asked me, as we were sitting in my cozy bedroom,
To make him his favorite 'cocktail' which only Papa Frank could make!
I am walking much slower now, following health issues and aging.
I got up and slowly walked to the kitchen to prepare his drink--
A mix of part water, part cranberry juice, and part orange drink.
(The only ingredient missing, which I make for his father,
Pierre, and for me is citrus-flavored vodka.)
Rowan followed me to the kitchen,
Where he watched me make his concoction.
Rowan again followed behind me, when he blurted out,
"Papa Frank, you walk as slow as a tortoise!"
I couldn't help but laugh and then turned to him, chuckling, saying,
"I love tortoises; I live with tortoises; and I am happy to walk like one!"

It is Saturday opus 531

Hey! It is Saturday!
Which is just like Wednesday.
Which is just like Friday.
Which is just like Monday.
Which is just like Thursday.
Which is just like Tuesday
Which is just like Sunday.

There comes a time in life,
When an imaginary day of 'freedom'
Is no better than any of the rest.
Are you at that time in your life?
You will know when it arrives.

PREDATE--a Josh opus 542

A strange thought occurred to me
About predation or to preDATE.
If one looks in a dictionary, predate
Means only to 'come before' (PREdate).
On deeper research one can finally find
'To prey' or 'to hunt for'.
Thinking about both these meanings:
Is a date with a person then meaning
'A time before a date with a person' (PREdate)
Or 'a meeting with a person
Who will be preyed upon' (preDATE))?
Do watch out--all you young dudes!
It all depends upon the accentuation.

Bundles of Flowers opus 543

An afternoon at the dentist's office.
Had promised four bundles of my narcissus or daffodils
To the lovely ladies at reception and at the 'chair'--
Liz, Chantobel, Olivia, and the top dog, Dr Dominessey.
But what now? A Monica had slipped in, so now five.
Led into the 'chair', tooth drilled, interesting chat.
Had no time to bundle from my bucket,
Until in the aftermath and the bill paid.
In the lobby, I commenced bundling--not four, now five.
Then a patient came by--a sweet older eastern Indian.
She admired the flowers--
Probably originally came from her part of the world.
So now it was six--I had just enough.
Usha--meaning 'sunset' received a spontaneous bundle--
So, still, I had enough for five more (like the loaves and fishes).
I walked out six bundles fewer, but a heart full of multiple bundles!

Will TACO Make a Difference? opus 581

I have realized that our neighbors to the south have invaded us with revenge,
Not with might, but with their alluring food--
One being the ubiquitous TACO.
It has come so far that our leadership here has gone totally TACO.
Lips extended over, and drawing in that crispy, stuffed goody,
All manner of thought has left his body
And in his gourmand madness, he has succumbed,
Belittling all his subjects, that none do matter--
Only his fellow Oligarchs with yachts from which,
They can disgorge any excess, unwanted, and unnecessary frivolous TACOs.

(Written for a presentation on the web.)

Can a Monkey Really Read? opus 592

In Hong Kong, monkeys have been witnessed
Destroying something very relevant to their outreach--
Namely, signs which read: 'Do Not Feed the Monkeys!'

Me or I? opus 632

My CPA (a young man) emailed me an invitation--
"Can you come to a meeting with Marc and I on Friday at 2?"
I answered: "Yes, Me will be there at 2 on Friday."
Then: "If you can substitute a nominative (I)
For an accusative (me), (. . . with Marc and I . . . ),
So am I able to substitute an accusative (me)
For a nominative (I), (. . . Me will. . .)"

("Just emulating your grammar!")
"All in fun,"  Frank.

The Taco Bell / Voice opus 638

Taco Bell has installed hundreds of AI devices,
In their Drive Thru windows, much to the dismay of customers.
Besides trying to get the AI to comprehend a verbalized order,
Several customers are fighting back.
To get a human to intervene with the AI / customer interaction,
One customer asked the AI for an order of 18,000 paper cups!
No one knows if that customer did drive away with all those cups.

One Ear and the Other opus 694

There once was a little boy in Switzerland, near Zurich.
If it had been three generations ago, that could have been me;
But it wasn't.  But it could have been.
Anyway, he was an active child,
With only one major flaw;  he didn't listen;
Didn't listen to parents, for instance,
When instructing this or that-- 
You know, the day's agenda, or duties, like 'clean up your room'.

The boy had minor ear problems;
Like too much earwax, which had little to do with not listening;
Or maybe it did.  No one really made any connection.
At any rate, the problem got acute enough
That he and his mother had an appointment with the ear doctor.
After some looking and probing,
The doctor said, "We will flush the ear for excess wax."
He gave the boy a bowl to hold under his bad ear
To catch the flushing water with the wax.
The boy began holding the bowl just under his ear.
Suddenly, without warning, he switched the bowl from one ear to the other,
As the doctor was mumbling further instructions.
The doctor asked, a little annoyed, "Why did you do that?"
The child answered, a little surprised,
"Well, you were instructing me to do things,
And mother told me to pay attention all the time."
She always says, "With you, 'Everything goes in one ear and out the other,' "
"I was trying to pay attention to you and to catch anything you might say.
I didn't want it to go in one ear and out the other--and be lost!"

(As told to me by Marianne, from Switzerland.)

Invaders!? opus 715

Today, 24 December 2025, after decades 
Of having bird feeders on my farm,
Two male House Sparrows came, for the first time, 
To feed with my other native sparrows.
As a biologist, so many thoughts and emotions went through me--
Non-native introductions, non-native competition,
Which ravage our state (and the world).
The ever-changing world through a biologist's eyes;
Visions of a hundred years from today and its then, reality.
New dynamics are ever-looming, most out of my control.

Surveying a Pond Base opus 733

After my dear mother died, I inherited her house on our farm.
It was smallish, but tidy with a few solar embellishments.
The four huge wooden house rafters extended eight feet outside,
Creating a rustic ambiance.
The roof (and ceiling!) and beams were absolutely horizontal.
As well, the tiny main porch was unimpressive with a concrete flooring.
This was all nice, until we had our first severe rains--
The badly sealed flat beams guided water inside to leak in the rooms.
The porch guided water back to the inner house wall,
Because some idiot had not checked the slope before pouring concrete!

Each time I cope with these 'flat' problems,
I am reminded of my fish pond constructions and surveying.
I created ponds from deserted quarry mining,
Shaping, molding and carefully building each pond, 1/2 to 2 acres.
Unlike the builders of my mother's house,
I carefully surveyed the floor of each pond,
Allowing not less than a three inch drop,
From the furthest end, to the opposite drain pipe area.
I built the ponds long before my house inheritance,
But now, with each rainy California winter, as the house has its minor floods,
I recall the diligence I mustered to slope my ponds just right,
And continually wonder why the builders of a house for humans,
Couldn't have been as careful as I, constructing a home for plain old fish!

Pierre's Pancake opus 748

Pierre, my son, was coming with his son, Rowan,
To visit our farm as occurs every month or so. 
As we planned the visit, they would leave to come,
Soon after he made a pancake breakfast for Rowan. 
I knew how delicious his pancakes were,
So I asked him if he would bring a couple for me as well.
This he did:  a beautiful evenly browned cake,
Tucked in a Ziplock bag to keep it moist.
There was only one because, as he explained, 
The rest were just gobbled up.
I drew it partly out of the bag to give it a test.
Even though it had been created a few hours previously,
The sweet, pancake aroma struck my nostrils.
The brown pattern was perfect, the thickness was even and delicate.
I sank my lips around it and utilized my incisores through it.
Oh, my, the moisture, the mellifluous taste, 
Just lifted my emotions almost to a state of imbibition!
Just a 'plain' pancake--no syrup nor butter,
Stood alone as a gourmet achievement par excellence!
My son, Pierre, has indeed perfected the 'art of the pancake'!