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Most of you, I don’t suppose, devote a lot of time to wond’ring ‘bout your death, but, now and then, I begin imagining some pretty strange scenarios. Of course I’m going to die, but - how and when Has me fairly worried, and I’d love to know for certain how I will, at some point, lose my life? But five ‘ll get you twenty-five that - when I fin’ly do…..the one who’ll know the facts will be my wife! Of late she’s dropping little hints she’s bored with how things are, and often says, “I miss the good old days.” She talks about the guys she used to date before I met her…referencing the many different ways Former beaus would try to woo her. Spending tons of money, all in hopes of making her their bride. Looks to me like - when she said, “I’ll love you ‘til I die,” - as far as I’m concerned…the woman lied! Despite the fact I bust my butt to try to keep her happy and satisfy her every chance I get, Almost once a week she claims she’s going to throw me out, and warns, “…and - that’s a promise…not a threat!” Just last night I watched her sprinkling something white and sparkly all across the dinner on my plate! Didn’t think nothin’ of it ‘til I noticed that…not once…did she apply the same to what she ate! Then, while walking past, as she was scraping out the skillet of no more than a bite of roast beef hash… There - in our compactor - lay an empty can of Drano, staring up from just on top the trash! “What was that you sprinkled on my dinner, dear?” I asked. “Oh…that was just a dose of ‘special salt’. It’s s’posed to help with constipation. You know…flush you out. But if it doesn’t work, it’s not my fault. “Helen Baxter swore to me it helped her husband, Stanley, more than any medicines they tried. Sadly, three days later…from a bout with diarrhea - despite some real improvement - Stanley died! “She claims he had a bowel movement every twenty minutes. I’m guessing that she must have used too much. But don’t you worry, sugar pie, I’m being very careful…..I’ve never put on more than just a touch!” Later on that evening I again became befuddled - unsure of what to make of what I’d seen: Why - I had to ask myself - would Velma take my slippers - and coat the undersides with Vaseline? And why, inside our shower, did she jimmy-rig a plug-in…without a box…and hang it from a shelf, Then claim I’d have less stubble if I showered while I shaved? Good grief…I could electrocute myself! And just before I went to bed I saw her doing something that gave me what I’d have to call - the shakes! I caught her on her backside, in the shop, beneath my classic, messing around - I’m guessin’ - with the brakes! “Whatcha doin’, honey?” I inquired. Her reply…“Oh…I just thought I’d better take a peek. I know you’re goin’ cruisin’ soon, and cars, of course, like these…will sometimes throw a bolt…or spring a leak.” “Counter-clockwise loosens thing, remember, dear,” I quipped. My mind went cold as I began to fret. “Make another crack like that - I swear, I’ll ring your neck,” she snarled…“and that’s a promise, not a threat!” Didn’t sleep a wink all night, and I’m not really certain just what’s going on, but…like I said… Somehow - when it fin’ly happens - Velma’s going to know…and likely play a part in…why I’m dead! PS: I've now got 4 new Audio-CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied pieces). They’re listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - or available by simply contacting me at -- mark@writerofbooks.com -- should those of you who enjoy listening to poems as well as reading them - and particularly those of you that travel - care to be so entertained. (We use safe and simple - PayPal) Cheers, Mark

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That's a Promise -- Not a Threat

Most of you, I don’t suppose, devote a lot of time to wond’ring ‘bout your death, but, now and then, I begin imagining some pretty strange scenarios. Of course I’m going to die, but - how and when Has me fairly worried, and I’d love to know for certain how I will, at some point, lose my life? But five ‘ll get you twenty-five that - when I fin’ly do…..the one who’ll know the facts will be my wife! Of late she’s dropping little hints she’s bored with how things are, and often says, “I miss the good old days.” She talks about the guys she used to date before I met her…referencing the many different ways Former beaus would try to woo her. Spending tons of money, all in hopes of making her their bride. Looks to me like - when she said, “I’ll love you ‘til I die,” - as far as I’m concerned…the woman lied! Despite the fact I bust my butt to try to keep her happy and satisfy her every chance I get, Almost once a week she claims she’s going to throw me out, and warns, “…and - that’s a promise…not a threat!” Just last night I watched her sprinkling something white and sparkly all across the dinner on my plate! Didn’t think nothin’ of it ‘til I noticed that…not once…did she apply the same to what she ate! Then, while walking past, as she was scraping out the skillet of no more than a bite of roast beef hash… There - in our compactor - lay an empty can of Drano, staring up from just on top the trash! “What was that you sprinkled on my dinner, dear?” I asked. “Oh…that was just a dose of ‘special salt’. It’s s’posed to help with constipation. You know…flush you out. But if it doesn’t work, it’s not my fault. “Helen Baxter swore to me it helped her husband, Stanley, more than any medicines they tried. Sadly, three days later…from a bout with diarrhea - despite some real improvement - Stanley died! “She claims he had a bowel movement every twenty minutes. I’m guessing that she must have used too much. But don’t you worry, sugar pie, I’m being very careful…..I’ve never put on more than just a touch!” Later on that evening I again became befuddled - unsure of what to make of what I’d seen: Why - I had to ask myself - would Velma take my slippers - and coat the undersides with Vaseline? And why, inside our shower, did she jimmy-rig a plug-in…without a box…and hang it from a shelf, Then claim I’d have less stubble if I showered while I shaved? Good grief…I could electrocute myself! And just before I went to bed I saw her doing something that gave me what I’d have to call - the shakes! I caught her on her backside, in the shop, beneath my classic, messing around - I’m guessin’ - with the brakes! “Whatcha doin’, honey?” I inquired. Her reply…“Oh…I just thought I’d better take a peek. I know you’re goin’ cruisin’ soon, and cars, of course, like these…will sometimes throw a bolt…or spring a leak.” “Counter-clockwise loosens thing, remember, dear,” I quipped. My mind went cold as I began to fret. “Make another crack like that - I swear, I’ll ring your neck,” she snarled…“and that’s a promise, not a threat!” Didn’t sleep a wink all night, and I’m not really certain just what’s going on, but…like I said… Somehow - when it fin’ly happens - Velma’s going to know…and likely play a part in…why I’m dead! PS: I've now got 4 new Audio-CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied pieces). They’re listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - or available by simply contacting me at -- mark@writerofbooks.com -- should those of you who enjoy listening to poems as well as reading them - and particularly those of you that travel - care to be so entertained. (We use safe and simple - PayPal) Cheers, Mark