Magazine Posts

Listening to music,
from Raechel Yamagata,
a citizen of Pennsylvania.
While I write or I should say
while I type my handwritten
notes that appear in this
Publication. Thank you, Carl
for allowing me to write and put into
your, Website. I am truly grateful.

I'm missing you now,
more than I can say,
as we rapidly approached,
our Anniversary date.

Sixty-six years
of wedded bliss.
We'll see it tomorrow,
with one more kiss.

You say you love me,
I know that you do,
as my heart swells,
because it's you.

You were asleep,
yesterday. I sat with
you for hours, a few,
leaving without telling
you, "Happy Anniversary".

A flame, now lit
as a story came,
about one person,
with a funny last name.

Joe Dweed, was the man
who had to place blame,
on the person,
with the funny last name.

So, what, you say,
it has already been said.
It's nuts, full of heartaches
and sorrow, so he fled.

Why run away when
you have a funny last name,
it was nothing you did.
There's no reason for shame.

Animals moving at night
in a darkness still,
avoiding a danger,
which could kill.

Is it temporary blindness,
or is it just me,
when the wait staff,
fail to recognize me?

Sixty-six years ago,
June 8th, Thursday,
we were married.
Those were wonderful
years. Not always smooth,
but we made it through
the difficult parts.

Now we will see each other,
she won't remember my
name but will tell me she
loves me, repeatedly.
How have I been so lucky
these past 9 years and
she has not.

Sunshine,
a magic formula,
mood booster.
Not bad,
what the Dr. ordered.

How easy it is to be happy.
From the gloom of a PNW day
to sunshine, to enjoy
as life continues.

Turkey neck,
chicken legs,
pot belly,
beer, the dregs.

Why do we choose
to use animal anatomy
to describe what others
will certainly see.

The skin has wrinkled
as I've grown old.
What once was toned,
has now many a fold.

Skin drapes down,
it hadn't in the past
and here I am,
an anatomical mass.

Sleep escapes me,
one night more.
It's getting old,
but I don't snore.

Can't stay awake
the following day.
What a great life
when I'm napping away.

A wicked wind, from the South,
began to blow dust away,
from out the fields,
to the center of town.

Hurry, hurry, take in your wash,
hanging on the line to dry.
Wet clothes and blowing dirt,
will make a mess, is why.

Up she jumped,
into the sky,
over the moon.
A fable or a lie?

This past week,
a change came about,
no more fighting,
or lashing out.

I now have with me,
one who is alive,
behaving as a child,
She is eighty-five.