May I speak freely
about Elf's and Gnome's.
Those of the garden variety,
where they make their homes.

The lost moon,
a void horizon.
An empty sky;
Where's the brightness
to catch my eye?
Come back now.
Return to me,
for in the darkness,
I cannot see.

The sack is empty.
No more your lies.
Leave this place now;
No shameful goodbyes.

The rain falls;
laying in puddles,
filling street gutters,
as the drains,
overflow; bubbling up,
as if saying,
"No more rain."
The ground is saturated;
soil wet and deep,
but the sound
of the rain,
on our roof,
makes for a restful
night of sleep.

There are times
when I arise
in the morn
and the smell
of the Sea,
wafts the air,
recalling the memories,
to the front
of my mind
of trips to
the beach;
a favorite time,
walking on sand,
wind in face,
while many of
your troubles will
disappear, when the
sounds of Seabirds,
in the salt
laden air,
removes the worries,
lets them all
pass, when the
wind dies down
and the Sea
is like glass.

If you still are a believer, in We,
of this current display of idiocy,
please review the insurrection you see.
Is this the Nation you want it to be?

Up in the morning,
before the Sunrise.
Time to go fishing,
as it is an ebb tide.
Down to the water
pole in my hand,
reliving the joy
of a younger man.
No worries or fears
of what I could do,
for I hadn't yet met
the remarkable you.

Be here for me,
is what I say,
for my time here,
will be going away.
Away to a place,
I do not know,
but perhaps a trace
of love and affection
in a far away land
of sweet perfection.

So many people,
on this wonderous day,
said they loved me,
yet here I stay,
locked in this prison.
A broken down dream
of what life was like
or what it did seem.

The World has been changed.
It will never be the same.
Never again, at least not now.
We won't see intimacy or how
to be as close to another,
as we did so long before.
I will miss the social aspect,
like I never did before.
I miss the contacts in time and space
as I yearn to see a familiar face.

I must be the proverbial,
old fool, of a man,
who's taken in, by others,
with a money making plan.
This story hasn't happened to me,
but I have received e mails,
directed to me so personally.
Promising riches, you can't believe.
Just send us some money
and the fortune will be,
put into your bank account,
your friend at the Embassy.

Random thoughts, fill the air,
filled with love and despair.
Be they good or be they unsound,
there they lay on frozen ground.
Does it matter? Not to me,
for I am here, loving thee.

A well is a subject, too deep
for a shallow mind.
I wrote these words,
not to be unkind,
but to remind us all,
of the actions we take.
All have consequences
and words can break.
Every reaction, creates an event,
which may create another reaction.
A new result created by a response
from your action.
Confusing? Sure. Just pick your word
usage, carefully.

I heard the Owl,
who saw the Crow,
on the Azalea
playing in the snow.

A fortnight ago,
it said in the book,
so I decided I should
take another look,
to determine casually
what did the word mean
or would I use it
in my next writing.
I looked up the word;
this is what I found.
"A period of two weeks,
used after the name of a day,
to indicate something will take
place, two weeks after, that day.

An exercise for the mind.
In Latin, the word "Porta",
means gate or door,
while the word, "Bella"
is the word for war.
My memories of Latin,
are not good, but poor,
so I best not write
about Latin words any more.

When I was young.
Young like a child,
I would go every where,
for I was quite wild.
There was no curfew,
at least not to me,
for when it became dark,
I knew where to be.
Home with my loved ones,
similar to right now.
Safe and protected
and still knowing how,
to take care of you.
So much like a child,
but you're no longer allowed
to run free and be wild.

Remembering back, in my early days of travelling, from state to state, to gauge the operational functions. Early days, where there was some travel with an expense account and a company car.
Working for a large corporation. Those days, long gone. The company no longer here.
I was the District Manager, for the Catalog Sales Division of Sears Roebuck. My area was the State of Oregon.
We lived, my wife and two children and I, in Vancouver WA. I had two stores in the immediate area. Hazel Dell and Camas. I also had stores in Oregon at St Helens, Astoria, Tillamook, Newport, North Bend, Coos Bay, Brookings, Grants Pass, Roseburg, Corvallis, Gresham, Hillsboro, The Dalles, Bend, Madras, Prineville, Hermiston, Pendleton, Ontario and Baker.
Every Monday, I would call the stores to receive sales information, sales per hour, returns and to discuss advertising or other operational issues.
Monday night or Tuesday morning. I would load my suitcase into the car and head out to one of my locations, depending on specific issues or concerns.
Our primary role in the Catalog Sales Offices, (CSO) was to sell appliances, tires batteries from our store inventory and order, soft line, aka, clothing, bedding, et al. We had commissioned sales staff who would sell cabinets, carpet, fencing and other "Big ticket" items. The function of Installed Home Improvement, or IHI that was for installation by our contractors. Our in house joke was IHI, "It's Here, Incomplete."
There were some great days with my Managers.
My goal was to make them an independent operation and to call me only if there was an issue to discuss. I would explain to them, "No Surprises." Tell me before the news hit the Regional Office. I would receive calls from my boss, on occasion, if I had approved advertising, over budget at a specific office. My mode was if I received a call from my boss was to acknowledge that I had approved and then call the offending Manager and discuss how the "No Surprises" was supposed to work.
I had great Managers, who did, for the most part, operate as Independents. I miss those days and the friendships I had made. Working at Sears was a great experience and prepared me for many jobs opportunities.

Remember me now.
Remember me when.
Remember where youth
on which you depend.
All of the things you
could do and say,
is suddenly gone now,
gone so far away.
Getting up from the floor,
was an easy task,
now if I do it,
I really must ask.
Changing light bulbs,
was easy to do.
Now I call my Son
for my balance is gone.
Balance, quite shaky,
to say, just a few.
Life has become harder.
What sayeth you?

"Jumping on the Jim Jam",
throwing on the brakes,
we will rid this Country
of all those who hate,
for the life of our brothers
we do not control their fate,
to provide a fair environment
as it is, what we can make.