Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Magpie Tales #284 "THREE"

Please come have fun on Tess's
Magpie Tales More info 
It's EASY!!!


Once upon a time there were three gates.
Big gate was for Poppa Bear.
Middle gate was for Momma Bear.
Tailgate was for Baby Bear.

On their trek home after a bit of foraging around the countryside, they were Hungry, Tired and Confident. Their world tonight was going to be a peaceful one. Nothing could or would mar their serenity, solitude, THIS evening.......what?  It looked as if they'd forgotten to turn out the lights in their kitchen and bedrooms--


Saturday, September 5, 2015



The score was 42-0, Naples High's Golden Eagles on top of a Cape Coral team. Final TD count:  NINE, score 63-0
At 42-0, the game was only half over! I would have stayed but in a place which has the best cheeseburgers in Naples, I forgot to bring any money, not even $1 for a program. SHEEESH!

Thank you Tom High for giving me two tickets, so I had TWO seats to myself (and NO cheeseburger(s). After 51 years as a Naples citizen, I finally got to my first games this year. I believe EVERY older person should attend some of these H.S. games, it brings back some fond memories. Always I've heard myself saying that those early years were hell, alone and lonely, misunderstood, etc., etc.  But in reality (which arrives slowly for me!) there had been a truckload of GOOD times. 

One of those was playing trumpet in the marching band. The sports guys used to tease me, saying, "Oh! Stevie is not allowed to play football, he might hurt his "pretty little violinist's fingers!" But I loved the trumpet--GAWD!--it was SO much easier to play than a violin. And marching and playing music in 15ยบ temperatures on a Thanksgiving morning. OH, WHAT FUN--smiles! So, Peeps...I need occasions like this night of "boring touchdowns, NINE of them, to remind me that any doom-and-gloom was inside ME, NOT caused by others.  It is ever thus!

PEACE and LOVE, Peeps,

Photo below is of the FIRST of nine TD's last night!

Monday, August 17, 2015


That ANYBODY might find interesting what an 82-yr old man fixes himself for breakfast I cannot imagine. But it is the only significant activity of mine so far today--EXCEPT I loaded up a new computer with WINDOWS 10.

Into mixing glass: half frozen banana, part of peach, little handfuls of raspberries, blueberries...OH! and three strawberries for flavor. ON TOP of all that I sprinkle my "secret diet" ingredient--OKAY, SINCE YOU ASKED: Chocolate flavored Medifast powder. This...EVERY morning and night. LOTS of water throughout day, Brand Name of water FOLGERS--grin!

NOW gotta get out and mow some grass, pull some weeds, install some (about 40) apps on my new "baby" HP, get to an 8 PM meeting at St. John's tonight

It's a SHAME we retired folks have nothing to do all day. Hmmmm!

PEACE and LOVE, Peeps

Wednesday, August 5, 2015


Upon Meeting a Friend

Heard an old (well, young!) friend was visiting in Weston, FL this week, so I rode over and lunched with him, his lovely young wife and two growing sons. . SO MUCH FUN! The meeting validated my belief that a good friend is one with whom there had been no communication for three years--and yet, when we met, it was as if we had been living next door to each other for these thousand days. Brian Miller is an amazing poet, writer and general wit--met him as a blogging mate about 6-7 years ago.

Thank You, God...for allowing me the joy to see again a family (two sons) grow in style, grace, and love. I was their house guest twice in Lynchburg VA (Home of the FABULOUS Liberty University!)

Image below is of two friends meeting, noticing how each have changed--grin!

Monday, August 3, 2015


Image(s) feral fae by fangedfem3
in Deviant Art

SOMETIMES, like a good book
Things are not as they look...

I learn to act nice
observe scene twice

admit what I "saw" was mistook.


Thursday, July 30, 2015

The Turning Point

Turn Around, Boy

As wild child
he rode the trails on
horse named “Silver”
Yup, as in Hi-Ho

After--still a wild bloke
first of his peers
to drink booze, smoke,
and enjoy solo sex.

In first grade, engaged
in the second, it was said
...he wed.

Skip many years
thousands tears.
Bodies, hearts,
bloodied, broken,
mended not...

One fine morning
in strange city
after playing several days
with chic kitty,

Sadly rode away once more.
Silver now had two wheels
upon which he soared,
leaving behind a sweetness.

Into mobile he mouthed
“I wish to come back.”
She--”Where do you live?”
“In the south”, spoke he.

“Sir, turn your bike around,
 face the southern sun.
And RIDE, Clyde—RIDE!
Never you roam from home.”

Wild child no more 
rode 'til his ass was sore.
In every life, strife...
In decision, indecision.

AH! Those turning points--
which way to go?
To the north a cliff
straight down to hell?

Kept on keeping on.
Still sober in October
To face sun's heat
...and more.

True life
is of the soul--
not of self, now old
as chunk of mold.

Former deviant,
my body a gift 
which GOD had sent;
a thing borrowed...
and lent....


Wednesday, July 29, 2015



What else so vital

as that which is the only?
And unrequited

Does Creator feel?

He--Who gives and gives as we
live lives unreal?

--steveroni, July 29, 2015

Thursday, May 21, 2015


Originally posted Friday, June 26, 2009  on


Now that it is Friday, I am particularly glad to be home, for it is my night to attend a small meeting at "detox". This is a locked area of room-and-board in Naples where people go to slowly have removed from their bodies whatever they were using to make themselves 'feel good' (Detoxification!).

Average stay is usually 4-6 days, and so if I see any of them more than once it would be at an AA meeting, or when I pick them up to go to a meeting. A guy asked me this morning (at 6:30 AM) "Why do you take meetings to Detox--after you've been sober 35 years?"

Good question! "I really don't know. I've stopped asking 'Why' about AA work. It's simpler to just do it, whatever it is."

(LATER, to myself) Wait! I DO know why I feel drawn to detox for a meeting. That is where it seems to begin, for some. For me, I need to observe that beginning stage of "soberism".  Many years of sobriety can create a tendency to become distant from "What it was like".

Sure, I attend usually two meetings a day, Big Book, Step, and Tradition meetings each week.  Even with some service work, I still find that NOTHING brings my chronic, fatal disease so close to home--to reality--as meeting those suffering their first days and nights in a Detox unit.

This is where the hair of the bow meets the violin strings. WITHOUT that 'meeting' there will be no music played. THAT'S why I feel blest to be allowed to share my Experience, Strength and Hope with newcomers.

At Detox tonight were 6 patients, and six of us from outside. Of the incarcerated six, two slept, one said he never had a drink in his liar--oops, I meant LIFE! And three seemed as if they thought we'd meet again.

After the meeting--outside--the six of us (I recall Megan and Alma and Jerry) shared another thought--we knew we had been where we were supposed to be for that hour tonight! Thank You, God. Thank you, AA. Thank you, Blogger Peeps!

In love and service,
Steve E

Tuesday, May 19, 2015



by Anthony De Mello is less about acquiring, more about "letting go", ALL about love. Several of us meet each Tuesday or Wednesday at Starbucks for a read-and-study session of this wisdom of “Letting Go”.

I love what this book has taught me and others, defining what love IS and what it is NOT. And OH! How wrong I--and others-- have been! In fact, I SO believe in the message this small book contains, that I keep two of them (new) in my bike trunk for many months. (SOME day, I'll be inspired to bestow ownership on someone else.)

The scene this morning...We sit outside. I am the last one to leave our small group this morning about 9:15 AM. My bike starts nice, helmet on, ready to go....and a car pulls up RIGHT IN FRONT of me. Immediately I'm having bad thoughts, as a girl gets out of car to go into Starbucks, and she and the driver have me locked in the prison of a parking space. UGH!

What happens next, she walks in front of her car, and stoops down to pick up something, then walks over to me and hands me my treasured book, which I must have dropped--”The Way To Love”.

Only moments before we guys were reading in De Mello that, “...love is an attitude, a disposition (and) this kind of love radiates outward to the world of things—and persons.”

I wait for the “girl” and her companion to park and walk past my bike. I climb off and hand her a new, clean copy of the book. She seems overjoyed! We shall never cross paths again.

In closing this short story I MUST write, “There is NOTHING on earth which contributes more to a joyous heart than to have given a gift...anonymously.”

(I tried to relate this blip of a happening without pride, real or false. Hope it worked—I'll never know!)



Wednesday, May 13, 2015


or is it "learn...and LIVE?"

--a short story. Young man came into a meeting last night, his first in three weeks! Always the "quiet one"...sober a couple months.  He sat there for the hour meeting and he who never says a word, began to speak:

"I listen to what you people tell me, but...two nights ago I had dinner with my girlfriend. SHE ordered for herself a margarita, and for me a nice Lowenbrau (beer). I stared at the bottle of beer for how long I don't know, was ready to reach out and quell my fire, when I heard the words.

"It was a story in our Big Book, about a sober guy who felt so strong, and "healed" that he ordered a scotch to dump into his milk. Then one more, because the first went down fine. He was found three weeks later in a trash can in New York...and woke up in a hospital.

"Few sentences after that story was a line which read, 'An alcoholic...will be absolutely unable to stop drinking on the basis of self-knowledge...'

"Well, I want you people to know I thought about all that, and just reached out and pushed that beer away." (End of story)

Some will know of what I write. Others will not but I experienced a strong pushing feeling to get it out there on my blog. It's called "live and learn"...I call it "learn...and LIVE!"  (I did!)

(NOTE: I've changed a few facts to avoid copyright problems, and breaking of anonymity, but the conversation is intact.)

May 13, 2015

Monday, May 11, 2015


I'm Two days late in posting, so I missed OLN.
But readers can still check on others'poetry:
by clicking d'verse poets pub's

A Marcy Purdy photograph

During year 1941 I was chosen to read a poem (because I played a violin)--and the words had no meaning whatever for me.

SEVENTY years later I read the same poem to a group of 150 sober alcoholics--and I cried, (could hardly finish reading) realizing the recovered miracles sitting in front of me in that room...


Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin.
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who'll make it two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
going for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
came forward and picked up the bow;
then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
and tightening up the strings,
he played a melody, pure and sweet,
as sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
with a voice that was quiet and low,
said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
and going - and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand -
what changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the masters hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,
and battered and torn with sin,
is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
a game, and he travels on;
he's going once, and going twice -
he's going - and almost gone!

But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd
never can quite understand

The worth of a soul, the change that's wrought
by the touch of the MASTER'S hand.

~Myra B. Welch

Monday, October 13, 2014

Vivian Maier "A FANTASY" for Magpie 141

Click HERE
for Magpie Tales


"Not yet", said he--to the one named Vivian
who had just dis'barked her amphibian, 
(her private way to travel
without all the public babble.)

Inspector Maier, frequently called 
upon to investigate solutions of "the
insolvable" crimes, gathered evidence
through use of smoky mirrors.  Also a

Kodak Brownie, and strong reflecting light
completed her bag of tools.  
Set free to investigate and roam
She'd solve the crime--then rob the home.

A professional sleuth no longer...
Vivian Maier died a pauper.
Trapped by her own mirrors and light
Viv shot her last shot...gave up the fight.

NOTE: Suspecting Police 
had installed a Brownie 
behind each reflective glass
to catch this famous dowdy...


Sunday, October 5, 2014


Magpie Tales is HERE


Burning desire
Way back there my house on fire
Men shooting their guns.

I remember when
There was no fence here at all.
Men set posts at night.

Why this barby wire?
Keep bad men out--or me in?
Neither accomplished...

Those people back there
Have no clue whut's gonna happen
(Mountain will blow up...)

Explosives planted
Everywhere. Yes, I did it.
Fireworks at nine.

--steveroni Oct 2014

Wednesday, October 1, 2014



Slowly you walk with old man,
in city where both live,
through greens and trees
in a park

Listen. Shhhhh. In breeze,
leaves, whispering 
accompaniment to lovely song
of a lark.

Sitting on wooden bench,
with ancient, trusty knife--
for just the two of you he
carves II...your mark.

Other things happen,
Hot dogs with relish, 
ice cream, chocolate.
Ah! A spark...

"Dear Madam, you have
made bright my day.
We walked, we talked,
you held this withered hand,
and now..........time 
to debark.
It is dark."


Sunday, September 28, 2014

The Neighborhood.


The Neighborhood

They said,
(By the way, 
who IS "they"?)
Anyway, they say,
"The Terraplane will 
fit like an aeroplane". 

The condo 'hood
above ground stood--
Plenty space to play.
Underground pipe
for children who like 
to seek...and to hide
(Don't have to find!)

In time (after) great flood
a subdivision built
Big boat, lots animals
with Noah settled nearby
in mud, muck, and mire,
discovered again
How to make--grin-- fire!

Now, only problem left--
be certain--make a list
and check it twice, thrice.
For the 
Is far