Friday, April 16, 2021

Artist Owl Lover & his Sacred Yellow Cat


Dorian McGowan, from his Owl & Pussycat by Edward Lear

A Diddly Poem for Dorian & Glover

O dear dear Cuddly marmoset
So fun to watch your mermen dance
Tumbling rumbling in the sea
Holding, boiling, roiling laughter bac
to keep the fish at bay

spitting suds and bubbles
Jumping up upon the cockleshells
Angry barnacles breathe back
striking out their feathery tongues
begging, yelling with watery spleen
"N'er err to dare come back!"
seething seashell venom
in twisted greenly crackly wrack

They sailed off in briny oyster shell
with oar of runcible spoon
And owl and cat in primate gowns
pretending dreams of silvery moons
laughing gulls and crooning loons

A day, a night, a wild cold tale
a chocolate bar of joy to share
in a champagne bath of glee
Invincible we think all hope
forever and a day!

"James" by Dorian McGowan

 © j.m.frase-white May 2019

Monday, February 15, 2021

A Valentine for Mom and (step)Dad . . . nostalgia in a bag of clothes


In the Mood


In the new house

Down in the basement

In front of the fallout shelter

hung a line of plastic bags

clear soldiers guarding in a row

These bags once hidden away

Intrigued my adolescent mind

Mysteries of days gone by

Pirating for treasure, unzipping for the dig


First, standing at attention

Was Daddy’s sailor suit

A uniform handsome in solid navy blue

To my surprise it fit like a caress

I was my father’s trim young form

Taken far from home

Across the continent

And  unpacified Pacific

The fight Japan, in water and in flight

A gunner’s mate on battle ship

Off to win the war, on sea and in the air


Admiring me in woolen blue

The mirror reflected red

I turned, unzipped the bag

A full skirt dress danced out

Clenching the frock unto my front

My mother appeared inside


I pulled it close and held her dear

Mother no longer Ma

Not the widow with five children

 struggling to survive


She was that young farm girl

A Saturday night revived

Blossoming with a taste of freedom

A red rose in a dress


My arm raised holding one red sleeve

In a salute to love

the other I  flipped on shoulder

My left hand on her back


From my standing trombone case

Glenn Miller came out to play

Together we began to dance

Bright rose upon midnight blue


A Moonlight Serenade


Daddy and Mama were no more

We two-stepped back in time

Fanciful young creatures

Danced the world alive

War sunk into the ocean deep

 widow black dispersed in to night

Maud’s hair so long and beautiful

Swirling, whirling with the dance

Joe’s eyes lit with stars of joy

The radiant grace of ethereal light . . .

Young again forever more . . .



©james m. frase-white 2/14/2021


Sunday, February 14, 2021

The Dream that was Genie


A Love Song for Genie Good (1946-2012)


Genie, the first time I fell in love with you

Naw, it wasn’t the Saturday night date

 to see “Blue Hawaii”

For the first time, your love of the flick

made Elvis tolerable, not venerable, but getting closer


It wasn’t when we first made out

For if we did I don’t remember


No, ‘twas surreptitious

bypassing Denton Drive-In  

 across state lines, Atlantic bound

50 miles to Rehoboth Beach,


'twas serendipitous . . .

   Walking along the breathing shore

We found a rowboat half-drown in sand

to sit, to talk with our souls, our desires

hearts and hopes and dreams sailing

as the ocean caressed the sands

stars appeared in the East

All was well and promising upon earth

Yes, Genie you taught me love then


Not on the shore of matrimony

The social step to take

To lose our lives in babyhood

Perpetuating the race


In college you wrote you had a lover

My heart was not between my thighs

Not in your beautiful body and deep red hair

No, washed out to sea in that sandbound boat

filled full of hopes and dreams, and art and blood

Up in the starry sky carried out to See, See, See

Bless you Regina Good, 

for that you shall always be

Good, so Good, a Genie indeed for me    

                                       early winter 2020 ©j.m.frase-white

Photo taken at North Caroline High School, Ridgely, MD in June 1965

Thursday, February 11, 2021

Nigel Paints a Portrait

Drawing Show & Tell Tuesdays


The painting was by Nigel
 His brush was fast and quick 
the face was quite distorted
 the nose looked like a dick!

I showed it to my partner
whose eyes said
‘I think he’s down the crick”
I blurted out to Nigel
“Is this a joke or trick?”

“Oh no”, he said, wildly laughing
“It’s my crazy brother Rick
He took 12 tabs of acid then 
his mind went click click click


Ma said the Devil’s got him
dancing in his bag of tricks
& now he just another
socially misfit prick.”

From a dream of 11/03/2020

Drawing/Poem 11/8/2020 & 2/7/2021

©j.m. frase-white 2/9/2021


Tuesday, January 12, 2021

Maturity Epiphany 2021


Maturity 10 January 2021


Dream Last Night:

Awaking with my words

 “Alex Prue, Shame On You”

Having just pried aforesaid Mr. Prue

Now sitting in a sunlit pool in deep chagrin 

after his impulsive kissing embrace of

Professor Donahue’s pixie vixen wife

 of an absent teacher-friend

who’d be in flames of fury

if he’d been in my place instead


Helen, the goddess offended

blushed hand over mouth

containing bubbling giggles

eyes twinkling with merriment

at the presumptuous affair,

Prue, a pink embarrassed mess

his curly yellow wig-hair disheveled

black moustache twitching as if itching

hardly a reprehensible foe

hardly a sensible joe

head bowed, hands between his knees

in childish retribution, scolded like a child


In earlier selections of this jolly

dream school memoire

I renewed student acquaintances

a mutual delightful reunion

I thought them not so small

(seated at the reading table

not one of us seemed tall)

 Here we taught each other,

 in our own beguiling journey

words are roads that lead the way

we discovered worlds aplenty.


Felt honored by polite demeanors

with bows and cordial shake of hands


In other parts of our big world

Adults scattered to repair

the bombed-brain mess we made

refurnishing broken, slashed walls

glittering shards of broken glass

books thrown upon the floor

disheveled without remorse

repainting graffiti walls that had no Banksy wit


A seeming cafeteria explosion

littered chocolate chips upon the floor

on feeding  tables overabundant with food


the presumptive behavior of grown ups

lay in tattered lies

the natural grace of children

bounced this thought into my head

“maturity is but a myth”

                                                                                                Dreamt on Sunday 1/10/2021

Revised Tuesday 1/12/2021


 "Untitled" Graphite drawing by Teresa Celemin (happily owned by jmf-w)

Wednesday, January 6, 2021

13th Birthday Dream for Jonny

 A 13th Birthday Dream for Jonny

Higglety-Picklety, bigadee-boo

I met a lion that looked like you

Lying by the backyard fence

It really didn’t make much sense

Not hard to see, I admit it’s true

A gingham coat in rainbow hue

 bright and sassy, mornin’ news!

With golden hair and fancy shoes

Pigglety-pup and figgelty fig

Memmbe he is wearin’  a wig

Biggity pump and pickelty-poo

He even smelled a bit like you


You must think I’m lying now

But do believe it anyhow

He asked for you by yer name

Said he wants to be just the same

Biddly bum and tigger too

I swear he really looked like you

Surely He’s a dandy lion

For all his cryin’ and his sighin’

There is just no denying

Why he acts just like you

Trickster master of disguise

He’d even got your bright brown eyes


Fiddly fum and bounce and boo!

What am I ever, ever to do?

In a mirror straight and tall

I’m such a silly monkey-poo is all

Well pee my pants is what I’ll do

Why, Lord in heaven, it is YOU!

  ©j.m.frase-white 2021

Happy Birthday Jonny!


Grandpa Jim

Sunday, July 28, 2019