Magazine Posts

A gentle breeze,
softly moves the flowers.
It's peaceful, sitting here,
on the patio at the Independent
Living facility, looking at Nature's
work.

Predominately, Annuals, Peonies of
varied colors and stripes, overflowing
over the edge of the pots.

The only noise heard, is the
Swamp Cooler. An old style cooling
device, which trickles water over
fiber mats, while a fan blows the air.
A decent way to cool the Kitchen.

I'm surprised how few of the
residents come outside to
enjoy the beauty and serenity.

I gaze into her eyes,
and feel a despair
as I see my love,
and she's not aware.

How do you define Love?
What is the effect between,
two people, which contributes
to this wonderful phenomenon?

For whom the bell tolls.
it tolls for thee,
as death approaches,
your soul will be set free.

These simple words,
describing an end to life.
All the love and emotions,
will never more be,
for when the bell tolls,
it will be for thee.

An end to life,
the sound of a bell,
is death of a life,
hopefully lived well.

I'm reminded of Pavlov's bell,
when the dining room opens, at 7 AM.
A mass of people gathers outside the
doors, awaiting the opening, before 7.

"Act normal"
someone said to me.
What is act normal,
suppose to be?

Acting strange
or being different
works well with me
and my odd bent,

of facing life now,
not how it was meant to be,
but the harsh reality,
it's seems that way to me.

Attack the norm,
hold the rage.
Something else?
Turn the page.

Our lot in life
is beyond our control.
Please spare the dialogue,
he's just a troll.

Oh, the days
of years past.
Women were women
and the food was fast.

Relationships were long,
were meant to last,
for days, months and years,
during lifetimes Vast.

My mind is racing,
my tongue stuck in neutral.
Good thing, for who knows
what will spill from this old mind.

I'm lost,
not alone,
somewhere in space,
between my ears,
behind my face.

So, this is what it's like
living alone.
Solo at Starbucks, at the
Crossroad Mall.
Dinner at a Chinese Restaurant,
no one else at the table.

So many people, moving about,
makes me want to stand up
and yell, "Can I get a hug?"
Crazy? Sure, it is, but also,
the reality of this new life, mine.

Running up hill, breathing hard,
short steps with sighs.
Salty sweat gets
in his eyes.

When running I would carry
a small sponge, wet.
I would use this to keep the
sweat from getting in my eyes.

When you were at a water station
I would drink, then rinse the sponge.
Learned to do this after running
my first marathon.