Magazine Posts

Running long,
running short.
Get in shape
or you must abort.

You need the work,
to build your core,
increase your strength,
to exercise some more.

Alongside the angled byways,
a canal of waters pass,
as rainfall follows gravity,
towards a swampy morass.

The roar of waves, beating
against the Ocean shore,
promotes our primal senses,
of what we were before.

The scent of salted sea spray,
assails our sense of smell,
with the sound of Seagulls crying,
completes our return, so well.

When love leaves,
and quickly goes away,
don't give up, for you,
must Rue the day.

Work hard in,
in the life you lead.
Be kind and gentle,
and you may succeed.

If you work in that manner,
be sure your soul doesn't burn.
You may find that
your love will return.

Stay strong,
each and every day,
and fate will find you,
bringing love back into play.

Count the days,
until your life will end.
Try not to fake the joy,
please don't pretend.

It's just a portion of
your long life.
You may soon find,
your love, my wife.

My mind wanders,
with information overload.
Too much information,
clutters the process road.

Strolling down the avenue,
nothing else to do,
except to start searching
for the elusive you,

When words collide
and meanings change,
do we make a guess,
spell check or rearrange?

Interesting questions,
from a writer's view.
It matters to me,
unsure about you.

I write to handle,
my daily stress.
It helps me when,
my mind is a mess.

If love happens to
find a way to your heart,
Be honest with your friends,
as you need to do your part.

No indifference now,
is what I will say.
Grab ahold of love,
begging it to stay.

There was a place.
There was a time,
when life was good,
and very sublime.

It's been a while.
I know it's true,
but of late,
I'm always thinking of you.

Here I am,
with a mind too frail.
I believe I am in
an old mental jail.

Thoughts move slowly,
most of the time.
It makes it harder,
if my words are to rhyme.

Why rhyme words,
where there is no meaning.
It's because it was the way
I found myself leaning.

One never knows,
is what I will say
as I plan on doing it,
in my very own way.

I rode a black horse,
wearing a white hat.
He looked funny,
being dressed like that.

My mind is full,
of useless information.
I wish my mind would
gain some exhilaration,

of writing words,
clear and concise.
It would be great,
and so very nice.

Too many thoughts,
about the end of life,
when reflecting about,
the loss of my wife.

Now here I am,
faced with a dilemma.
I think I may need
another brain enema.