Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Poem

The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time. For the clock may soon be still.

Author: Al Capone's lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie."
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5 comments:

  1. OrbsCorbsOctober 3, 2012 at 8:38 PM

    I used to read Easy Eddie's work in Poetry magazine

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  2. SassaOctober 4, 2012 at 7:23 AM

    Hey guys...how many of you know that 'Butch' OHara (the man for whom the airport is named, an ace pilot) is Easy Eddie's son? Now you know the rest of the story.

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  3. legal strangerOctober 4, 2012 at 10:52 AM

    Sassa, I didn't know that.

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  4. SassaOctober 4, 2012 at 11:20 AM

    Yes he was Al's lawyer and didn't like the stuff Al did so he turned him in. Eddie was then shot and they found the poem in his pocket. He wanted his son to be a better man so he send 'Butch' to all the good schools.

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  5. OrbsCorbsOctober 4, 2012 at 8:40 PM

    Truth is stranger than fiction. Thanks, Sassa.

    ReplyDelete