The First Armored Division

The First Armored Division
(sung to the tune of: As Time Goes By)

This is about my four sisters and my mom, of whom it was said by a brother-in-law:
"I didn't realize that I was marrying into the first armored division!"
Verse

The army I was born into was raised with great precision.
A "first armored division", with me the one revision.
But, this isn't brag or bluster, I barely answered muster,
While the ladies who preceeded me rode off like General Custer.
Their battle pennants flying, they offer no surcease.
I guess there's no denying that I’ll have to sue for peace.

Refrain

And, I’ll remember this, each time I reminisce, a guy is just a guy,
The matriarchal rules apply, as time goes by.
I got up off all fours by opening the doors for ladies passing by.
A custom that remains today, as time goes by.
They need no amendment, need no E R A,
They're independant, and I’m here to say,
I love them all and that's how it will stay
Until the day I die.

So, I propose a toast, to those I honor most,
I raise my glass on high.
The girls have earned their "victory medals"
As time goes by.

OF AG, AU AND PB

In sharing my philosophy
I find that I am able
to use, in my phraseology,
The Periodic Table.

When we are in the bloom of youth
our thoughts and words are bold.
The future seems to be, in truth,
a highway paved with AU.

Each night presents a star-filled sky,
each day the sun is shining.
And every cloud that passes by
contains an AG lining.

Such sentiments can help us win
when aiming for the moon.
But, if we let depression in,
we ride a PB ballon.

And so, my friend, when all is told,
there's this much to be said:
The cup of life is made of AU,
a coffin's lined with PB.

bILL wARREN

12/21/31

THE PAPER TRAIL (in honor of my sister, Dottie)

Yours a Hickey/Warren tradition,
rife with scholarly ambiton.
Ever gathering essentials
toward attaining your credentials.

On in hope you've struggled forward.
PhD became your coreword.
Brains and money, both required
for that prize that you desired.

But as time and luck would have it,
health would take that pair, and halve it.
For, when brains were in supply,
then, the money pool was dry.

When at last the money pool
would allow for time in school,
then the gray cell count went broke,
bankrupt by a crippling stroke.

Nothing daunted, on you've read.
Someone lesser would have said:
" 'though my quest has been denied,
none can say I haven't tried."

But, for you it doesn't end here.
'though the old gray cells won't mend, dear,
in my mind you'll always be:
D. G. Talbot, PhD.

Bill Warren

12/21/31

LONGEVITY

LONGEVITY

Three men on a veranda sat,
an old age home, where they were at.
Rocked in their chairs, and chewed the fat
about longevity.

One said he'd led a simple life,
adored his children, loved his wife,
kept his emotions free of strife,
and he was eighty-three.

The next averred that he had found
the teachings of the prophets sound
for keeping both feet on the ground,
and three score-ten was he.

The third had listened all the while.
Bemused,with a sardonic smile
upon a face that could beguile
the devil and his minions.

And when his turn came round, said he:
The simple life?, no not for me.
Religion?, not my cup of tea
I don't share your opinions.

For I am of a different ilk,
rye whiskey is my mothers milk.
I've clothed myself in shirts of silk,
and spent all I could borrow.

And 'though I may have hell to pay
for living in a reckless way,
if I can make it through today,
I'm twenty-eight tomorrow!

BILL WARREN

12/21/31

A CAT'S CRADLE (AND COFFIN)

A CAT'S CRADLE  (AND COFFIN)

A CAT WAS PLACED INTO A BOX
THAT WAS FITTED WITH NUCLEAR LOCKS.
IF A WAY OUT IT FIGURED
A BOMB WOULD BE TRIGGERED
AND BLOW IT CLEAN OUT OF IT'S SOCKS.

BUT, IF IN THE BOX IT REMAINED,
THE OXYGEN THEREIN CONTAINED
WOULD SLOWLY DIMINISH
AND LEAD TO IT'S FINISH,
NO WAY OF ESCAPE COULD BE GAINED.

"IN THEORY", A PHYSICIST SAID,
"ONCE PLACED IN THE BOX, IT IS DEAD."
WHILE I DOUBT NOT HIS THEORY,
I DO HAVE THIS QUERRY:
DOES THAT LEAVE IT EIGHT LIVES AHEAD?



BILL WARREN

12/21/31

THE DIVINE SARAH

THE DIVINE SARAH

THE ELECTIONS OF TWO THOUSAND-EIGHT
WERE COMPRISED OF A SPECTRUM-LIKE SLATE.
THERE WAS AGE, THERE WAS YOUTH.
THE URBANE, THE UNCOUTH
JOINED THE RACE TO REPLACE GEORGE THE GREAT.

I TRULY ADMIRED MC CAIN.
HE CAME THROUGH IT ALL WITHOUT STAIN.
HIS CHOICE OF THAT GAL IN
ALASKA, MS. PALIN,
ENSURED THAT NO CHOICE  WOULD REMAIN.

HE SAVED US FROM “PRESIDENT SARAH”
A FEMININE TYPE YOGI BERRA.
WITH HER KNOWLEDGE OF FOREIGN
WE’D BE HELD UP TO SCORN
FROM SPITZBERGEN SOUTH TO TIERRA.

ALAS, I HAVE ONE OF THOSE FEARS,
SHE MIGHT TRY AGAIN IN FOUR YEARS.
AND WITH HOURS TO BURN,
“GUNS AND LIPSTICK” MIGHT LEARN
THAT AFRICA’S NOT IN ALGIERS!     

BILL WARREN

  NOVEMBER 30, 2008                                                                                                                                                                          

BARRED AS A BARD

BARRED AS A BARD

RETIREMENT?, SUBLIME!
BUT, WHAT TO DO WITH TIME?
I THOUGHT A BIT,
CAME UP WITH IT ,
I'D SPEND MY DAYS IN RHYME.

IT SEEMED, IN MY NAIVETY
CONCERNING THAT ACTIVITY,
JUST PEN AND INK
AND TIME TO THINK
SHOULD LEAD TO CREATIVITY.

HOW LITTLE I THEN KNEW!
WHEN I SET OUT TO DO
WORD SYMETERY
BEFUDDLED ME,
I DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE.

A FRIEND  (WHO HAD SOME BREEDING),
SAID:  WRITING COMES FROM READING.
AND SO I'D PORE
O'ER FABLED LORE,
'TIL EVERY PORE WAS BLEEDING.

I READ OF GRECIAN URNS.
WILL SHAKESPERE'S TWISTS AND TURNS.
AND, IN MY SLEEP
I'D PROBE THE DEEP
WHERE DANTE'S FIRE BURNS.

THEN, WHEN I'D HAD MY BELLY
FULL OF KEATS AND SHEELEY,
I'D TRY AGAIN
BUT, FROM MY PEN
LEAKED VINTAGE EMMETT KELLY.

MY POETRY WAS CLOWNISH,
MY COUNTENANCE GREW FROWNISH.
I TOOK TO BOOZE,
AND SANG THE BLUES,
ALAS, MY BLUES WERE BROWNISH.

MY RHYMING EFFORTS FAILED.
I'LL NEVER BE REGALED.
THE BARD, 'TIS SURE,
CAN REST SECURE.
I'M ON MY PEN IMPALED.

I'VE LABORED QUITE A SPELL WITH IT,
AND HAVEN'T DONE TOO WELL WITH IT.
PERHAPS SOMEDAY I'LL TRY A PLAY.
FOR NOW, I SAY: TA HELL WITH IT!

BILL WARREN      NOVEMBER 30, 2008