Magazine Posts

Ask me your questions
the next time we meet,
as I need to re-charge
my brain to a level,
I am unfamiliar with.
A simple task for a
too simple mind.
I'm sorry. I don't
wish to be critical,
of my love on display.
It's a colorful choice,
as some have said before,
in utter dismay.

When the World crumbles,
like castles of sand
and the life you know
is not yours to command,
it is the time to stand,
raising your voices up high
and protest. You must,
so, all will know why.
This is your fight.
Do you live or just die?

Travelling at night,
on unlit streets,
through darkest shadows,
along lonely venues,
on Life's journey.
Why has love
disappeared from
your path?

I feel a strangeness
in my head.
There is not pain
or any dread
of Dementia
of this
I'm sure,
for I know
the signs
of this
dreaded disease.

Run fast
into the wind,
on your
outward bound,
training path.
Run faster
with the
wind on
your back,
as you
return home.

I toss the die,
I roll the cubes,
for when I gamble,
I usually lose.

Strap tight the light,
wait until Dawn.
Keeping your composure
for tomorrow and beyond

Forlorn my heart,
is to me,
a small look,
toward eternity
of loneliness.

Comes the Sun
after the cloud
has sheltered us,
in early morn

Did you miss me?
Did you know I was gone?
It now matters, not,
for my blues are in my song.

I miss you so much, my darling,
for me it's a new romance.
I miss you so much, my darling.
Why didn't you take a chance?
Long may the wind be at your back
and may the Lord bless you,
as you stay the course on life's "hack".

It's a glorious time,
as I write on this page.
It's a glorious time,
in spite of my rage.
My rage against a
disease, which is this cruel,
for there is no cure
and no medical tool.
Yet in this glorious life,
I'm here to support
my most beautiful wife.
She says she loves me,
many times, during the day,
with word so profound,
I could lose my way.
When going to bed,
I see in her eyes,
a pure love I wed,
no tears and no sighs.

Rain splatters,
bouncing into
a fine spray.
Freshening air,
night and day.
Liking the Sun,
as I do,
the ground
is dry and
I am
missing you.