Magazine Posts

A far away land
at distance to thee,
is where I will wander,
when I search for me.
Travel today
is not the best choice,
unless sitting in a tube
is cause to rejoice.
Crammed into the can
of a cabin of size,
leaves no space to breathe
or to optimize,
the safety you need.
Lord please help me,
complete my next deed.

A waft of smoke
from the small fire,
with intense heat,
stoking a new desire,
to live once more,
under the bright star
and to be the man
you know you are.

Sitting around a campfire at night
the front of you is warm.
Your back is cold as ice.
Telling stories of days gone by;
embellishing as needed
to maintain the lie.

There is no comfort
in sitting here,
unless of course
the cold will disappear.

When does it end and go away?
When will we have a new day?
It will never be the way it was.
Why is that? It is just because.
Stores will be gone; we will too,
For all of the things we used to do,
Are now gone, or will be,
For we need workers for our Economy.
We must pray now! With God at our side,
To heal this Nation's Racial Divide.

Where is the music?
Where is the show?
Where are the places,
We once did go?
Where are the sports,
We so adore?
They aren't here;
Not anymore.
Where are the friends,
We all knew?
What can we do
To start anew?

Ere years before,
in darkest time,
when day was dark
and not sublime.
A time of fear
and abject hate.
A time of now.
Can you relate?

Come here to me.
Come here now.
Tell me your tale
and make your vow,
to treat others seen today
the same as your family.

Think not
of what is to be,
for life is full
of uncertainty.

Words I've lost,
many times before,
were words of love,
in the days of yore.
Words professed are
to the one I love,
guided by the
Heavens above.

I remember you;
Your flashing eyes.
The lilting laugh,
You would surprise,
With your mind,
Young and wise.
Your mind is gone.
Knowing not where;
Sitting with me
In our despair.

A grassy knoll,
A sunny day,
A pleasant scene,
A short nap,
Now to dream.
Dream of Sunlight
And how it plays,
As our lives move;
The end of days.

I write for you.
I write for me,
about the events,
these old eyes see.

Off in the distance,
I heard a Cock crow,
for it is Sunday
and to worship we go.
Not to church of mine
at this situation time.
We go on line to pray
asking for forgiveness, so,
Thanks be to God
of this much I know.

The problem with running and going far;
you have to return where you left your car.
An old friend and I would run out to
Bothell from Redmond, on the Sammamish Trail,
when training for the Seattle Marathon.
It was our long run for the week.
I don't remember the length but estimate
it was about 14 miles, out and back.
After we returned, we would put on
our Sweats, pants and jacket and go
to Blazes Broiler for a Sunday breakfast.
Bacon or ham and eggs with hash browns,
toast and a few Bloody Mary's.
Our kind of training back in those days.
Some schedule I would say.