Titles of my poems and songs that are shown on this webpage are…

— Young and Old
— Old Age
— The History of Correlation
— Grandparents’ Goodbye Song
— The Queen
— A Love-Hate Relationship
— Backyard Gardening in Houston
— What is sex?
— The Times They are a-Changing (my version)
— Yesterday (my version)

A word before your read…

Anthony Zorich was Tony to me,
a brother whose paintings were never quite done.
Same can be said of my poetry:
ever improving, ‘cause to me it is fun,
and therefore they’ve changed on dates 1, 2, and 3.
The version shown here is but the latest one.

==========================

YOUNG AND OLD
version 2024-12-01
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

The Young, their youth they sadly do waste,
because, real life they have not yet faced.
The Old, their know is valued as naught
by Young, who know with barely a thought.

The answer some say: to reincarnate.
But no creed on Earth predicts such a fate
for Wisdom to grow like layers of paint
from one life to next, be it ever so faint.

What can be done to improve future years,
when national debts do bring us to tears,
and school of hard knocks is rated the best,
and guide from the Old is considered a jest?

What can be done to improve future's look?
Give speeches or sermons or publish a book?
Will any Young listen or read thoughtfully?
All Old can do is to pray hopefully.

Let Old be consistent in word and in deed;
that is the way to plant a wise seed
that someday may sprout in some fertile mind,
sooner or later, when Old's left behind.

==========================

OLD AGE
version 2024-12-05
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

Retirement is awesome, or that’s what you hear.
Work on a hobby instead of career.
For a non-profit, you can volunteer.
Or travel the world, the far and the near.

Having no paycheck they say is not tough,
if size of your savings is more than enough.
Your major complaints: “Golf ball’s in the rough”
and “Days are too short to do all my stuff”.

If planning for money was not your forté,
what you call home may shrink in some way,
and bills that are basic you’ll struggle to pay
with income that’s ample for only today.

When reach you the years of sixty plus ten,
cancers more likely, the ones that don’t mend.
Wherever they start, in liver they end,
yellowing your closure with family and friend.

The greatest of fears approaches so gentle,
jumbling the mind and everything mental.
Don’t dare say the word; no memory
of one that begins: A, L, and a Z.

The end it is nearing; there’s nowhere to hide
when looking backwards with hopefully pride.
Why fear you death? No mental strife
if always you tried to lead a good life.

============================

THE HISTORY OF CORRELATION
version 2024-10-16
This is the version that appears in the Preface of my book with the same title.
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

Researching my book was very much fun,
altho I admit, I'm happy it's done.
Old textbooks I hunted, and purchased a ton;
in Stanford Archives were many more ones.

Internet sites I found to be great
for finding old books and papers of late.
Thousands of pages I did read and quotate;
comments from me, to those I did mate.

Writing my book took many a year.
Would it be published? "Never, I fear!"
Twenty refusals were painful to hear;
the next was accepted, and it felt like a cheer.

The draft I submitted was far from a mess,
but “changes are needed” came the request
from Taylor & Francis and CRC Press;
not wanting to fight, I did acquiesce.

Now it’s for sale on Amazon mobile,
the Routledge website, and Barnes & Noble,
with Access to Open and distribute it global;
maybe someday it will even be vocal.

HINTS FOR UNDERSTANDING:
— After my book was rejected by 20 publishing editors, the 21st accepted it.
— CRC Press is a group within the Taylor & Francis Publishing Group, one of the “Big Four” publishers of STEM journals and books; they are marketing the book on their “Routledge.com” website.
— Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble sell books.
— My book will eventually be released on "Open Access", which is one way to publish online that allows for free reading by anyone in the world.
— A “vocal” book is an audiobook.

============================

GRANDPARENT’S GOODBYE SONG
v. 2024-09-20
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

When we hear you cry,
it breaks our heart,
'cause we're going bye-bye
and be far apart.

We hope you know
what you mean to us;
but we gotta go,
so don't make a fuss.

We'll see you next time
when we come again.
You'll be on our mind
every day 'till then.

FYI — at the very bottom of this webpage, I’ve placed a link to a recording of my singing this song.

============================

THE QUEEN
version 2024-11-07
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

The whole world of Science she royally rules,
with theorems and methods and other such tools.
Some of her numbers are special to me
’cause nature more clearly they allow me to see.

π  is a number that didn't faze me
until I discovered it's truly crazy.
How long is it really? Don't even try —
failed have we all, computers and I.  

i is a number whose meaning is clear
only to those who imagine it here.
They find it useful in wires and space,
but others conclude: "too complex for my taste".

e is a number whose discovery was fate —
derived from a study of bank interest rate.
To i and to π,  e can relate,
’cause Euler did prove all three can equate.

There are many more numbers, important ones too,
about which more poems could be coming from you.
One last question to you I do bring:
If math be the queen, then who be the king?


HINTS FOR UNDERSTANDING:
— π  is an “irrational” number, and people who are not rational are sometimes called "crazy"
— In the 18th century,  Leonhard Euler showed that e to the power of i  times pi equals negative 1, that is...
e^( i π ) = −1
— i is called an “imaginary” number, versus “real” numbers; however, this number has found practical applications in astronomy and electrical engineering (i.e., “in wires and space”).
— Numbers that include both i and real numbers are called “complex” numbers.
— For the past 200 years or so, mathematics has been called the "queen of the sciences" (praise that possibly originating with Carl Friedrich Gauss).

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A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP
version 2024-11-18
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

After supper, when I'm not ready,
she manifests with eyelids heavy.
Later when I'm off to bed,
I'm sad to find that she has fled.

Later when I'm lying down,
she seems afraid of feather down.
She won't come near until I've taken
an hour or two of time awaken.

I'd love to have a slice of death —
eight hours or more of slower breath.
But midnight brings a potty trip,
which sad to say I cannot skip.

Back to bed, alone again;
my night-time friend does not attend,
but sometimes does come back to me
between the hours of two and three.

She leaves again as dawn appears,
as if a ghost who disappears.
Morning light is what I find
does clear her fog from out my mind.

After lunch I try again
to lure her back, my nap-time friend.
Half the time she warms to me;
the other half, it’s cold she be.

When I’ve done my supper feed,
more deep and rem is what I need.
But cycle same is what she sends;
her deep are dark are fickle friends.

=================================

BACKYARD GARDENING IN HOUSTON
version 2024-12-01
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

I just moved to Houston from my North Calif. nest,
where growing of veggies is fun at its best,
with nary a fungus and nary a pest,
and climate that’s best by government test.

No summer rain in that Golden State
(in Winter it comes, which is way way too late).
They charge for the water by the cup or its weight,
So return on investment is really not great.

In Houston it rains all the year round,
but places to store it – none can be found:
what Houston calls hill, Nor’ Cal’ calls a mound,
So most of my water comes out of the ground.

Raised beds in Houston – I started with wood;
(quickly they rotted — should’ve known that they would)
and earthworms did eat them (didn't know that they could!!).
I replaced them with stone from my neighborhood.

What should I grow? I gave corn a try,
but winds bent them over, degrees forty five;
I staked them back up, to keep them alive,
but insects came calling, which caused them to die.

Tomatoes are veggies that next caught my eye;
but who knew that plants can silently lie:
tho blossoms are many and bees 'round them fly,
there is no red fruit when comes hot July.

Here in the South, potatoes grow sweet;
their vines run so long, their tubers so deep.
"Picking potatoes" is what kids do call "neat",
if they can keep clean their hands and their feet.

Okra is great (most Southerners say).
but after eight hours, the flowers pass away.
Their prickly fruit needs picking each day,
as long as cool weather don't get in the way.

My taters I store for use winter days.
My okra won't keep, so I give them away.
Corn and tomato --  I grow them no more;
buy them I do in a grocery store.

=================================

WHAT IS SEX?
version 2024-12-24
copyright by John Nicholas Zorich

"What is sex?" I've asked myself
          thruout my years and days:
of course it is for pregnancy
          and pleasure sundry ways.
But many men do not agree,
          and wrongs instead they do:
such as rape and wife abuse
          and counting conquests too.
It seems that sex is more than sex
          like Sun is more than star:
most intimate of ways to show
         what kind of man you are.

=================================

THE TIMES THEY ARE A CHANGING
The John Zorich 2024-12-23 version.

Come gather ‘round people, safe in your home;
but admit that the waters around you have grown,
and accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone.
If your lifetime to you is worth saving,
then you'd better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone,
for the times they are a-changing.

Come writers and critics foretell with your pen,
but keep your eyes wide the chance won't come again,
and don't speak to soon 'cause the wheel's still in spin,
and there's no telling who that it's naming,
for to lose now will be later to win,
for the times they are a-changing.

Come senators and congressmen, please heed the call:
don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall;
for he who gets hurt will be he who has stalled.
There's a battle outside and it's raging;
it'll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls,
for the times they are a-changing.

Come mothers and fathers thruout the land,
please don't criticize what you don't understand.
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command,
and your old road is rapidly aging;
please get out of the new one if you won't lend your hand,
cause the times they are a-changing.

Come soldiers engaged in your battles so loud.
You think that your people of you are so proud;
but they only care that your war has no cloud.
What's the goal for which you are aiming?
Well, the good-old-days are what's happening now,
but the times they are a-changing.

Come Muslims and Christians whose faith is so strong
that each of you knows the other is wrong
and that in hell "they" all belong!
But if God's not to whom you've been praying,
and if the atheist's view has been true all along,
then the times they'll keep on a-changing.

The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast.
The slow one now will later be fast,
as the first one now will later be last,
the order is rapidly fading,
and the present now will later be past,
for the times they are a-changing,
and the new ones they’ll be amazing,
and those too will ever be changing.

THE TIMES THEY ARE A CHANGING
John Zorich’s comments on the original version shown below.

My version makes better sense to me,
and it is easier to sing (for me).

And I like my 2 added verses.

THE TIMES THEY ARE A CHANGING
The original Bob Dylan version (as best I can determine).

Come gather 'round people, wherever you roam
And admit that the waters around you have grown
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone,
For the times they are a-changin'

Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen,
And keep your eyes wide the chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon for the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'
For the loser now will be later to win,
For the times they are a-changin'

Come senators, congressmen, please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled.
There’s a battle outside ragin'
It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls,
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers throughout the land,
And don't criticize what you can't understand,
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command,
Your old road is rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand,
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast.
The slow one now will later be fast,
As the present now will later be past,
The order is rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

=================================

YESTERDAY
The John Zorich 2024-12-2-02 version.

Yesterday,
All my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it looks as though they're here to stay.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be.
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday left suddenly.

Why she had to go? I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Until today,
Love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I regret my yesterday.

Tearfully,
I offer up my prayers and plead
For her to come back here to me.
Oh, yesterday is what I need.

Why she had to go? I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

YESTERDAY
John Zorich’s comments on the original version, shown below.

In the 2nd verse, why say that Yesterday “came”? It makes no sense. Today is what has come. Yesterday is gone (“left”).

In the 3rd verse, why use “believe” again (as in the 1st verse)? I changed it to something new.

Why is the 4th verse a duplicate of the 3rd verse?
It makes no sense for such a creative genius (Paul McCartney) not to take the time to write a unique 4th verse. So I wrote one.

YESTERDAY
The original Paul McCartney version (as best I can determine).

Yesterday,
All my troubles seemed so far away.
Now it looks as though they're here to stay.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be.
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

Why she had to go? I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Why she had to go? I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

======= No more poems, except link to recording at very bottom of page. =======