Pat Grieco
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Pat Grieco
@iampatg.bsky.social
200 followers 7 following 570 posts
Author, Poet, Philosopher, Songwriter

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Today’s Thought - #poetry #writingcommunity #author #philosophy

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Admitting one knows nothing is the beginning of learning. Learning is the beginning of knowledge. Knowledge is the beginning of understanding. Understanding is the beginning of wisdom. PG
December 29, 2025 at 4:42 PM
@morningjoe-msnow.bsky.social
May you and yours have the happiest of holidays and the best of New Years!
December 24, 2025 at 9:30 PM
@maddow.bsky.social
May you and yours have the happiest of holidays and the best of New Years!
December 24, 2025 at 9:29 PM
Today’s Thought - #poetry #writingcommunity #author #philosophy

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Happy Holidays!
The song By Pat Grieco Deep within the silent night beneath the shining star, the manger stood unnoticed by any from afar. The inside was quite tiny, filled with new laid hay. It sheltered all within it and kept the cold at bay. The cattle huddled there for warmth did unexpected see a family gathered there as well. With baby, they made three. The newborn swaddled lay there warmed by his mother's love. The cattle gathered nearer to view him from above. The child opened up his eyes and smiled at such a thing when in that moment in the night the cattle did then sing. The cattle softly sang loo loo. The cattle sang loo loo. All creation stopped to listen to the sound and some creatures large and small did hear and gather round. Sheep did add their voices with harmonies, just so, to soothe the little child lying there below. Goats did raise their voices to join in with the song and even little mice did come to sing along as the cattle sang loo loo, loo loo, as the cattle sang loo loo. The animals did sing their song there in the night so deep until the little newborn babe at last did fall asleep. Then most of them grew quiet as the star shone bright above. They watched over the little babe surrounding him with love. But still the cattle sang right through to break of day for the swaddled little babe that lay there in the hay. The cattle softly sang loo loo. The cattle sang loo loo. For sure it was a miracle as sun rose in the sky that babe had heard the song of those unlike both you and I. That in that tiny manger, unnoticed from afar, the animals had sung to babe born beneath the star. They say the cattle to this day still sing beneath starlight in honor of the tiny babe that was born that night. The cattle sing loo loo, loo loo. The cattle sing loo loo. They say that you can hear them, when the sky is clear and bright, singing softly to the babe deep into the night. You can hear it linger there floating on the air, the song that cattle softly sang to newborn lying there. If you stop and listen, you may hear them too singing for the little babe all the long night through. For the cattle sing loo loo, loo loo. The cattle sing loo loo.
December 24, 2025 at 9:27 PM
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The perfect gift By Pat Grieco The Christmas tree is set up. The snow is soft and white and everything seems perfect upon this silent night. But despite the jolly season and all that should ensue, I must confess I find myself feeling pretty blue. Somehow some small disquiet disturbs the joy and light. There is one thing that I think might just make this season bright. I think I know just the thing to give me quite a lift. All I have to really do is get the perfect gift. No need to search philosophy by Descartes, Hume, or Kant. I tell you now that I know exactly what I want... I want to send a tank to Ukraine to join them in the fight, to help them win the battles and make the world aright. It has be real rugged, traverse through rough terrain and operate quite nicely in snow or in the rain. I'm thinking maybe M1. A Leopard would be fine or maybe a Korean one like a K-2 or K-9. I know you must be thinking, One tank's just not enough. They'll need a bunch of other stuff when the going's getting tough, So maybe send some missiles some drones might do the trick. They could all be carried there in the sack of old Saint Nick. Then all around the Christmas tree harmony will abound with the giving spirit of the season truly found. And all things will be perfect. All disquiet then released, and I can start enjoying this time of love and peace. I'll sing the season's carols. My joy will not be feigned and all because I sent a tank to folks down in Ukraine.
December 23, 2025 at 5:12 PM
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A comic strip - The chopping block And executioners block and ax talk to each other about the folks coming before them. A family of three, a father, mother and baby son stand before the block and ax. Block: Who are these folks? Ax: Carpenter and family seeking asylum, fleeing threat of death. Block: Where’s the father? Ax: National security threat. In prison, awaiting deportation. Block: Where’s the mother? Ax: Criminal immigration violation, awaiting deportation. Block: Where’s the child? Ax: Unaccompanied minor. Had to hold him int he system until family members can be found. PG
December 22, 2025 at 11:24 PM
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On Wheel of Fortune, how do you know that it's Christmas time? There's no L! PG
December 21, 2025 at 4:30 PM
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I find it ironic that an article on how to quit your phone addiction shows up on my phone... PG
December 16, 2025 at 9:21 PM
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The stroll By Pat Grieco The chill within the morning air leaves dew upon the lawn. The flowers here but yesterday are vanished, shorn, and gone. I pull my jacket tighter as I stroll down past the stream. The warmth is but a memory, a wisp of of haunting dream. The low of distant cattle mixes with the calls of sheep across gently sloping hillsides and glens that secrets keep as sun does slowly rise, above horizon creeps, to wake the world from slumber and rouse it from its sleep. I pause and raise my face towards the slowly rising sun to feel the distant heat marking day that has begun. But I cannot long here linger as chill seeps into my bones and mist begins to rise from the hillsides and the stones that mark the length of distance that I have yet to go "til I reach my destination along the stream's swift flow. For summer is behind me with autumn yet ahead and must travel onward past where my stroll has led as the chill but deepens and the wind begins to blow across gently sloping hillsides where sheep call and cattle low.
December 14, 2025 at 4:06 PM
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A fly on the wall will be swatted as soon as it is noticed. PG
December 11, 2025 at 5:04 PM
@morningjoe-msnow.bsky.social

Now that you are MSNOW, have you changed the commercials shown on cruise ships overseas or in international waters to reflect the change?
December 10, 2025 at 6:30 PM
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Blessings By Pat Grieco Blessings be upon this place and all who dwell within and may this blessing then extend to visitors and kin. May all who ever travel here know peace within their breasts and even when they do depart, forever be they blessed.
December 9, 2025 at 9:46 PM
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If you turn off the darkness, you will find that the light was always there. PG
December 4, 2025 at 5:03 PM
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The Past By Pat Grieco We are who we are because of the past and how we emerged from it. We cannot forget it. We cannot pretend that it never happened. We must acknowledge it. We must see the truth of it as it was. However, we cannot linger there. We cannot forever gaze into its depths. We must turn and face the future, for it is our actions now that mark us. It is our ability to transcend the past and make a better world that will define us for generations to come. We may have been born of the past, but it does not define us now unless we allow it to. The future is ours to make and shape and transform into the better world, the brighter world, that we have imagined, that we have dreamed of, that we have yearned for across the centuries of our existence. The past has always weighed us down, trapping us, crushing us against the difference between reality and our expectations. But it need not be so. We can gaze boldly forward. We can make our dreams reality. We can forge a future better than today, better than the past if we can just tear our gaze from it and rid ourselves of the burdens we insist on carrying. The past has brought us to where we are, to this place, to this time. We are creatures of it. We cling to it for meaning and relevance and to tell us who we are. We are who we are because of the past and how we emerged from it, but we must lay it down if we are to become who we may yet be.
December 2, 2025 at 9:05 PM
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When there is no enforcement of the law, there is no accountability. If there is no accountability, there is no law. If there is no law, there is no order. If there is no order, there is no civilization. If there is no civilization, there is only chaos. PG
December 1, 2025 at 2:20 PM
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They call By Pat Grieco The woods call and I must go to see what trees may yet bestow I must walk among them now to soak in peace today, I vow. Share your wisdom now with me oh ancient knurled and grizzled trees. Tell me now of ages past so I may know the truth at last. Are we but folly, here below whose lifetimes pass like river's flow rushing, rushing to the sea while you here just simply be? Speak to me. Oh, tell me true am I a phantom blur to you unreal, a vison faintly seen as though I had never been? Tell me if truth I perceive. Help me all my doubts relieve. Soon I know I will be gone while you my friends will linger on still reaching for the sky and sun when my journey here is done. Although I am by you enthralled do you know I'm here at all? Yet you call and I must go on paths by sun set all aglow. I see you there. You wait for me. I must go to hear and see. Others may not hear at all, but I must heed your silent call. Tomorrow we may part our ways, but I am here with you today.
November 30, 2025 at 3:20 PM
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Change is often a substitute for progress. PG
November 24, 2025 at 1:00 PM
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Kindness By Pat Grieco What is kindness? What constitutes a kind act? Is it helping someone in need when there is no compelling reason to do so? bringing civilization to savages? comforting someone in distress when you could easily walk away? stopping someone from doing something because it's for their own good? easing someone's way through a time of turmoil, hardship, or loss? hiding the truth when the truth would be unbearable? bringing the word of God to the unenlightened? shading an answer so that someone's feelings are not hurt? avoiding discussion of a subject that would be uncomfortable? giving money to someone begging on the street? giving of time and effort to a charitable cause? Why are we kind? Is it because it is what we are? because it makes us feel good? because it is expected of us? to hide our true nature? Are we only kind to our family and perhaps our friends? Are we only kind to strangers to rely on that first impression to influence what may follow? Is an act of kindness really kind if it somehow hurts another, if it stems from selfish motivations, if it prevents choice or free will, if it is done with an ulterior motive? Many things considered kind are in fact not. Sometimes "kind" is used as a euphemism to cover an act or action taken to "help" another. Sometimes it is used to cover an omission or inaction as someone is "only trying to be kind." Sometimes it is used as an invective or a curse. "I will never rely on the kindness of others." Can an act be kind if the intended recipient does not want it? Can an act be kind if the recipient expects it? Can an act be kind if its ultimate effect is to bring hardship and pain? When is an act truly kind? What is kindness?
November 23, 2025 at 3:41 PM
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The essence of human existence is choice, for with each choice a new world is born and in that new world, anything is possible. PG
November 21, 2025 at 2:52 PM
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Jolly Wastrel By Pat Grieco I am a jolly wastrel awash in the joys of life. I have no time to worry for the cares of daily strife. There's just too much to see and do to ever wear a frown as I travel roads and byways through villages and towns. I have no need for money but for pleasures it may buy along dark streets and alleys or under open skies or in the fancy parlours within a well-sprung house to gain the sweet attentions of a long-neglected spouse. And if I play a game or two of dice or perhaps cards, I'll gladly take donations from the wealth that you so guard to never spend it freely, to keep it all locked up, to hide it all is such a waste of an overflowing cup. So let me spend it for you. Let me ease your mind by using some of your vast wealth that keeps you so confined. It doesn't make you happy. It only makes you blue. Let me show you how to live and joys that will ensue if you'll simply come with me tonight beyond these pale white walls. We'll have the very best of times within the bawdy halls where lies true entertainment. It's not so far away. You'll never have a better chance, so come with me and play. We'll have a splendid evening and then a glorious day. Never mind those jealous folk who whisper when they say that I'm a jolly wastrel with faults and sins most rife while secretly they envy my most exciting life. So come with me. Oh, come with me to till some unplowed fields. Life's wordly pleasures do await for you to simply yield to this wastrel's earnest pleadings, to this wastrel's sage advice, a Don't throw your life away like this or you'll regret it thrice, Enjoy yourself. Come, sow some oats. Cast all your cares agley. Come share this wastrel's jolly life. Don't waste another day. Let's be but jolly wastrels awash in the joys of life with only time for pleasures and none for cares or strife.
November 19, 2025 at 3:32 PM
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Nurse: How's your memory? Patient: Great! I don't remember forgetting anything! PG
November 18, 2025 at 2:58 PM
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The question By Pat Grieco The question will come, perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but it will come spurred by the smallest thing, a sound, a sight, a fragment of a memory ignited into a full-blown conflagration of remembrance, regret, and guilt. Why did I survive when they did not? I did nothing different. Others were equally worthy, had just as much to live for, had loved ones waiting for them, people praying for them, with the future depending upon their return. But they did not and everything that was theirs, dreams, hopes, destinies, is gone denied by fate, by chance, by cruelty, by hatred, and the endless vagaries of a world gone mad. Why was I saved when they were not? Why am I alive when they are dead? There are no answers. There cannot be. And that lack haunts, troubles, torments, despite no outward sign of the turmoil within. Was it as simple as being lucky when they were not? Does it all come down to an inch there, a hesitation in the moment, a chance taken, or not? Why? In the dark of night, in the light of day, the question will come. Some will make peace with it. Some never will.
November 15, 2025 at 8:23 PM
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The one who believes they are infallible is mistaken. PG
November 14, 2025 at 10:09 PM
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The last rose By Pat Grieco The last rose of autumn is the most precious of all though it is no more beautiful than the year's first that gives us promise of the summer yet ahead. They both challenge us with bursts of color bright with hope and fragrance soft to touch the wayward breeze. They both cause our steps to pause, our gaze to linger, and our minds to ponder what lies ahead. One is no less vibrant than the other, no less a thing to be desired, no less lovely for its timing in the scheme of life. But this rose, this one is the last. And if winter should prevail, it will be the memory carried forth against the bitter chill. It was not expected. There was no thought of yet another bloom before the winter's snow. And yet, here it is bright with expectation for the fullness of its day beneath the waning sun. One more bloom before the snow. One surprise to make us linger and abandon thought of anything but this unexpected treasure as the leaves fall, the sky darkens, and winter beckons. The last rose of autumn is the most precious of all.
October 21, 2025 at 3:08 PM
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Never engage in a discussion with a vampire. They'll just suck the life out of the conversation. PG
October 20, 2025 at 7:27 PM