The Thinker

 Of all the men I ever knew
The tinkingest was Uncle Jim;
If there were any chores to do
We couldn't figure much on him.

He'd have a thinking job on hand,
And on the rocking-chair he'd sit,
And think and think to beat the band,
And snap his galusus and spit.


We kids regarded him with awe -
His beard browned by tobacco stains,
His hayseed had of faded straw
The covered such a bunch of brains.

When some big problem claimed his mind
He'd wrestle with it for a fall;
But some solution he would find,
To be on hand for supper call.


A mute, inglorious Einstein he,
A rocking-chair philosopher;
I often wondered what, maybe,
His mighty meditations were.

No weighty work he left behind,
No words of wisdom or of wit;
Yet how I see him in my mind
Snap on his galusus and spit.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...