Magazine Posts

oh my heart started singing,
when she entered the room.
I knew at once, the type of trouble,
of my impending doom.

She was bright, with her smile,
one like I had never seen.
Her personality was livlier,
nothing in between.

Lest you get the wrong impression,
of what I am about to say.
She was the most beautiful,
animal, I'd seen today.

So sweet and cuddly,
was the sparkle, she Brang.
My joy was delightful,
of this small creature, I sang.

I like music,
a melodic song,
stoking the flame,
of where I belong.

If I could
see you once more,
and tell you,
of my love, or

Is it just
a silly run,
when I know
love is done.

River's flow,
tears won't dry,
sadness comes,
another goodbye.

Blow ye wind blow,
from across the sea.
Please return my love,
back home to me.

Is it time?
Did it sell?
Did all things,
not go well.

These questions,
are those I ask,
about the work
on a simple task.

My world, has flipped,
upside down, Topsy Turvey.
What was up, is down.
My life's habits, environment,
are no more.

Cripe, I am uncertain,
where the door
to one's life is.
What has happened?

Sitting at breakfast,
I'm overcome with
a sadness, I don't understand,
unable to comprehend,
do not like...

I feel unwell,
physically and mentally.
If I am about to
slip over the edge.
I feel lost, alone.
What is happening to me?

What is missing,
when I can say,
I miss you more,
every single day?

Silence is golden,
this I've heard,
but now your gone,
without a word.

Have I failed,
when I say,
I still miss you,
in my own way?

Through a window, darkened,
a scratching sound was heard.
Could it be coming from,
a large, aggressive bird?

Or was it from the branches,
of a weeping willow tree.
Our imagination, in effect,
when it's dark and we can't see.

Looking in the darkest night,
was our task to do.
We worked extra hard,
finding the noise, came to,

through a darkened window,
the scratching sound we heard,
was from willow tree branches,
It was not from a bird.

Water coursing.
hill and glen,
eroding soil,
then on
to rivers
and the Sea.

Life goes on,
without the
incessant tug
of politicians.

Have I become calloused,
inured to the pain
of others, here?
Is my empathy feigned?

Sugars sweet,
but you are not.
Your attitude
needs adjusting.

Why,
sayeth he,
what's wrong
with me?

Take deep, slow breaths.
I feel as if my hands,
belong to someone else.
A strange sensation.

Pour my soul, on the ground,
where it will lay, useless,
until it's gone away.
What words do I write?

I'm feeling used, not sure why.
Useless is the word.
I cannot help my wife.
A powerless feeling of sadness,
overcome by anguish.
Why?

Please, no, "Trust in God"
comments. I am slowly losing
my belief in this approach.
Becoming embittered is like
dragging your blanket, for
something uncontrollable.

I still have positive thoughts,
loving life, talking with people.
The missing element, of course,
being unable to have a discussion
with my wife. I miss her.