Magazine Posts

The dangling participle,
is what was said,
while I was writing
my story instead

I don't like it,
I never will,
when I see all
of the mentally ill.

The Residents, I know,
I know them still,
they are nice.
yet they are ill.

What kind of World
can this be,
when we live in
a mental society?

If I walk away,
showing no concern,
my Soul will heat up,
providing a damaging burn.

I cannot walk away.
I will not leave.
My commitment to her,
wedding vows to achieve.

In sickness and health,
a vow I once made,
is my goal to achieve,
I will not be afraid.

Streaks of light,
Lightning flashed,
mars my senses and
my soul is bashed.

Upward she went,
as if a kite on a string.
Soaring towards the heavens,
then the kite began to sing.

Sing of a lost, unrequited love.
Sing of those high in the trees.
Sighing of another one,
singing words in a breeze.

How do you believe
in such a weird thing,
allowing it to take flight,
floating like a bird on the wing?

As I sit here,
at my desk,
I feel some
loneliness.

Is the feeling,
coming from me,
or from the change,
of her, which I see?

Before it was round,
it was supposedly flat.
Not sure what,
to think about that.

Irational thought,
a rational mind.
Some are confused.
It only takes one kind.

The smell of decay,
makes its presence known.
The sound of Gulls,
makes the beach its own.

Rain splattered windows,
windblown rain.
Stay dry this day,
do I need to explain?

The uncertainty of life,
along with a daily deed,
provides the foundation,
for a lifetime of need.

I felt a need to reprint this.
Perhaps it will fulfill the part,
when a sadness appears
in affairs of the heart.

What value, do we place,
on life's path?
If it is not solace,
what is it?