Magazine Posts

I am sadness,
come with me
to the shore
of your sadness sea.

Long the night,
in bed at 9.
Short the sleep,
when arising at 4.
Empty the feeling
when she's not in bed
but is sleeping, fully clothed,
on the sofa instead.
I'm know of the problem,
being very aware,
but sometimes I wish
I was now, elsewhere.

What is a thought?
What is a notion,
but an idea or
a strong emotion.

I know the words,
sound like a song.
I'll keep on writing,
as I move along.

Words can be pliant,
as some people you see.
Not speaking of you,
just thinking of me.

Anyone can be bent
and follow a sign,
but some become warped
becoming bigoted and blind.

Up early, before dawn,
doing my best
to stifle a yawn.
With sleep filled eyes,
I read the news,
but to be honest,
I wish I could snooze.
Resting these eyes,
there's nothing to lose,
before I have a nap,
if that's what I choose.

It's funny how thoughts pop into your head.
My grandparents retired from the railroad.
My father and I both worked there for a short time.
Our family home, when in high school, was close
to the railroad tracks.
I would use the RR tracks for a path to go hunting
and fishing.
I recall, when walking down the hall at the memory
care unit, where both my wife and I now reside.
My beloved is in early or mid-Alzheimer and walks with
a short, choppy walk. I found myself walking in a similar
shuffle and it brought to mind my youthful days walking
the tracks. Walking on the ties required two small steps
the one long step and repeat. Or you could tread on every
tie, which wasn't ideal. It's funny about recollection and
what can trigger the thought.
Thank you for your patience and support over the years
as I scribbled out my thoughts and little odes.

Lonesome the heart,
when you are afraid,
all of your loved ones,'
have left. Gone away.
Helpless the feelings,
when you have no control
or if you couldn't say,
how a new friendship,
could change your today.

The smoke-filled haze,
still remains in the trees,
awaiting some rain
with an evening breeze.
It would be great, to
once again breathe

No matter what
happens in this life,
I am content to have had
this much time with my wife.

Where do I go,
when it is over here?
What will I do
when I no longer have you?

I knew this would happen.
Wasn't expecting it, this early.
I fed my wife her lunch today.
She cannot identify anything.
A fork, spoon, knife, cup, glass or
Plate mean nothing. Fingers have become her
Favorite utensil. I chose to feed her
Today for if I don't she will not eat well.

I will always
cherish thee,
for all the love
you gave to me.

Is it love?
Admiration of others,
encountered every day,
recognizes things
of what you might do.
Why can't love
be the way too?