Magazine Posts

A reflection
in the windowpane
of clouds darkened,
a forecast of rain.

The last day of February,
which is today,
should close with sunshine,
not these clouds of grey.

Where is the joy,
when it's dark, day and night.
We need more sunshine,
to make the day bright.

The scooter, sat by
the garage door.
If you were looking for trouble,
it was there on the floor.

The floor, old and wooden,
full of holes and broken nails.
If you were looking for smoothness,
be very disappointed, it fails.

What does it mean,
to write words of today.
No matter the reason,
a written word will stay.

Write ye tomorrow,
of the grandest days
and you'll find words,
of love, adoration and praise.

Turtle
Dove
Love

All the pain,
in this late life,
moving toward an ending
uniting us as man and wife.

Shadows, in the dust,
on the wooden floor,
of the vacant house,
next door.

He lived here once,
I heard someone say.
He lives here, no longer,
for he's gone away.

Will he ever return?
People have asked why?
I shrugged my shoulders,
letting out a sigh.

Let's have a game.
Here's what to do.
Write down a word,
I'll write one too.

I write my first word,
you can reply soon.
Words of a planet or
a word for the moon.

Be careful, make a choice,
picking the word, you choose.
There won't be a winner
and no one will lose.

Ready to play?
Then here goes.
What is beautiful,
but not called a Rose?

Remember to write,
just one word, at the end.
Use your imagination,
let's just pretend.
Turtle.

Tell me a story,
about when you were a boy.
An adventured you lived,
once with a friend.

Graduated, from the eighth grade,
myself and my friend.
Wanted to earn some money.
We hitchhiked from Seattle,

North to Lynden to pick strawberries.
We arrived and heard the news,
the berry season was over or done.
Reverse our journey, sleeping in a
field, outside of Bellingham, and
returned to Seattle.
Thumbs out, we needed a ride.

Don't be careless,
begin at the start.
Make sure the horse,
is in front of the cart.

a broken branch
covered in clay
in pieces.

This life I've led,
full of daydreams
and half-truths,
has passed by.

What happens tomorrow,
or whenever the day,
if I want to hold you
and you push me away.

I remember you always,
every day of my life.
Remembering you forever,
my, most beautiful wife.

Let's meet here tomorrow,
taking one more chance,
for a new beginning,
and taste for romance.

I'm thinking of you now,
as I lay on the sheets,
of how I miss you,
tears course down my cheeks.

My emotions are ragged,
my actions, my senses,
of not being with you.
It is not my pretense.

My sleep, is quite fitful,
not sleeping at night.
My anger upsets me,
but there's nothing to fight.