Magazine Posts

Who said you need sleep?
Sure, wasn't me.
Three hours last night.
Went up, to my place,
here at the home.
Crawled into bed, at seven.
Someone knocked at eight.
Got up, showered,
now having breakfast,
at nine fifteen.
I miss my wife.
Hope she is ok,
wandering the halls
at night.

Eating lunch, at memory care.
A bowl of Lentil soup,
while the drawstring of
my hoody is in my soup,
but not discovering until later.
Embarrassing, to say the least.

Our love is long.
Our love is true.
Not seeing you,
makes me blue.

Long were the days,
when I knew the real you,
all, which I've thought on,
everything I knew about you.

I've wandered the valley,
climbed the highest hill,
but when I see you,
it's exciting, such a thrill.

Crossing the border
of mental acuity
is the challenge,
to avoid duplicity.

No Ode to tomorrow,
which never came,
when yesterday and today,
forgot its name.

Be the strength,
write what's on your mind.
When writing about others,
always write to be kind.

The World, once his Oyster,
now broken and apart,
he vowed to keep on living,
in matters of the heart.

As life is still ongoing,
it may end before the start,
becoming his damnation,
in matters of the heart.

Trying to do things wisely,
and to be working smart,
all his efforts follow,
in matters of the heart.

A long life together,
living now apart,
while love still exists,
in matters of the heart.

In the world of History,
studies of the art,
the World is indifferent,
In matters of the heart.

The love for another,
a quest to be a part,
an overwhelming desire
in matters of the heart.

When I arise in morning,
the horse before the cart,
I write down my words,
in matters of the heart.

Never fear to write.
Fear inhibits creativity.
Your ability to write
words, unencumbered,
is hindered by shyness
or risk of embarrassment.
To have your words
taken out of context,
can be fearful.
Just write the words,
few or in abundance,
to make yourself heard,
by taking a chance.
You may be surprised
by the response
you receive.

Carpe diem.
Seize the day.
Don't procrastinate.
Do it now,
lest we forget
what life is about.

I long for the days
of the past,
of slow dancing,
picnic at tables
in the Taneum Creek area
and breathing, sans mask.

Ah, the days
of tricked up cars,
Smitty's mufflers
with large, echo cans,
all chrome and noisy.
Racing on country roads.
No money involved,
just wanting to win.

Where does time go?
Where do days hide?
When will you say?
When will you decide?