Often, I get frustrated
When things just won’t go my way.
I get so aggravated
That I’m in a funk all day.


Guess it’s best to stay in bed,
And avoid what might go wrong;
But each day I rise instead,
And somehow muddle along.


With problems, we’re all beset,
For life gets complicated,
And the more things that we get,
More chance to get frustrated.


Cavemen really had it made,
No appliances and such,
Never a bill to be paid -
They didn’t require much.


Food and drink and sex, I guess,
Were all that were on their mind.
That surely reduces stress.
Fools! We left that life behind.

By RickMack (rmrickmack@aol.com)

A pal is a trusted friend,
With whom you can bare your soul.
One on whom you can depend,
When your problems take their toll.


A true pal is always there,
Ready to put your needs first,
Perfectly willing to share
Bad times, when life does its worst.


It’s difficult to believe
There exists such loyalty,
The finest gift one can receive;
And it was granted to me.


With such a friend, I was blessed,
For all of my adult life,
Until she was laid to rest.
How I miss my pal and wife.

By RickMack (rmrickmack@aol.com)

He climbed the ladder in tight trunks,
Strutting on the high-dive platform.
Girls admired this hunk of hunks,
As he flexed muscles in each arm.


He did a sort of stretching dance,
Twisting and bending for awhile,
Warming to every gal’s glance,
Impressing them all with his style.


At last, he moved out to the rim,
Carefully aligning his toes.
Knowing all eyes were now on him,
He assumed a champion’s pose.


He knew to tuck his chin in tight,
And on his toes rose up just so.
Pushing off with all of his might,
Into his routine did he go.


Two full flips and a swan dive too;
And for a moment time did stop.
His trunks had torn and well he knew
This dive would be a total flop.

By RickMack (rmrickmack@aol.com)

The gambler now needed more chips,
For he was on a losing streak,
On one of those casino ships,
Where he’d booked passage for a week.


From the start, a run of bad luck,
Had seen him lose every hand.
Soon, with no money, he’d be stuck,
Until again they sighted land.


Nothing, he thought, could be much worse
Than broke and bored way out to sea.
Then he spotted the lady’s silk purse,
Sliding to the floor from her knee.


She had been the winner, till now -
Next to him, her chips were piled high.
More luck than Dame Chance should allow,
He thought to himself with a sigh.


Right there on the floor her purse lay,
Unnoticed, and all his to take.
He’d seen the wad she’d stashed away,
And this could be his lucky break.


He let his last chips fall to the floor,
And then, to retrieve them, reached down.
In his sock he quick stuffed his haul -
Along with the hem of her gown.


He rose to walk away, quite smug,
Taking two steps from the table,
When the purse fell out with a tug.
To explain, he was unable.


He shrugged and felt his cheeks redden,
Knowing this had been a bad day.
To the hoosegow he was heading,
But let the chips fall where they may.

By RickMack (rmrickmack@aol.com)