Magazine Posts

Life is short,
full of many treasures now.
Times change and here you are,
unable to maintain your vow.

She is gone,
away from thee.
You will never more,
her face to see.

Loneliness becomes
a part of your life,
for you no longer have,
your beautiful wife.

I miss you,
my darling soul,
but will soon be there,
and we'll be whole.

The finality of life,
as we know it today,
will soon change,
and go away.

It's OK for in this,
our life's cycle here,
will bring forth a
time which we held dear.

Life must end,
this we know.
I wish to exit quietly,
as my final show.

What happens tomorrow,
if the Sun never comes.
Will I still be breathing,
will I become the one?

You can't predict the future.
These words ring true, for me,
for if I could, I would find,
the beautiful, lovely thee.

Why speculate about,
a day which may never come
for no matter what happens,
my time will be done.

Is life as strange
as it seems,
or is this just another,
case of perpetual dreams?

I don't know,
and will not reply,
for if I do,
perhaps, I will die.

From edge of light,
on an Autumn morn,
new love takes flight,
while you're reborn.

May you walk through,
shadowed fields, unfazed,
until you achieve,
you're best of days.

May worry never find you,
in a place of anywhere,
when your soul vanishes,
into the Spring air.

A Jabberwocky, is a bird,
of mystical origins.
Do you support it in your head,
if we think without precision?

What happens now,
to all of us,
if we don't love our way?
A short ride under the bus,

and you will see,
the end of the USA.
It's not up to those in power,
to take our freedom away,

Complacency, will do that,
in every single way.
Stand up America,
God Bless the USA.

When the cool ground fog,
rises on a summer morn.
It projects an image
of being reborn.

A coolness descends,
on the morning light,
shadows shrink,
dawn replaces night.

A pleasant place,
a life to be,
as we age,
our memories flee.

When love returns,
to your heart,
it will bring,
recommitting of life's part,

which will elude us,
everyday,
before you know it,
love has gone away.

There are no thoughts,
in this old head,
about the rites of Spring,
just I'm no longer dead.

Times were bad,
nothing to be said,
when you're not here,
I won't be afraid.

You're a beacon,
in the life of this man.
I value our friendship,
as I always can.

No wishful thinking,
by this aged man,
just a realization that
I still can,

look forward to
a seasons change,
and not worry about,
if I need tire chains.

When idiocy, reigns supreme,
it's not a breath of Spring.
It's the gasping for air,
when they take away everything.

You may not believe this, but
I know it is true,
the only losers we will have,
is you, you and you.

Wake up America!
This is your land,
others will take your freedom.
I hope you understand.

What happens tomorrow,
when we open up the door,
and find our beloved country,
isn't here, anymore?

A small stream,
flowing through hills and trees.
A Summer outing,
with a cooling breeze.

Such was the scene,
when I was a boy.
A family picnic,
a summer joy.

Rippling waters, cascade,
over rock and clay.
Oh the memories,
of that summer day.

The smell of cold fried chicken,
potato salad and baked beans,
are my memories of,
the summer picnic scenes.