Public Posts Seattle, WA Seattle, WA (zoom)

Words come not easily,
during this time of remembrance.
I cannot leave words to luck,
or play words to a game of chance.

Why so much grief,
which tears at my soul.
Why am I sad and alone,
in this my life's toll?

A toll, a change,
another personal fee,
when it happens,
I remember thee.

I need to get me,
some of those skintight jeans,
so I can change my Baritone voice,
to a high-pitched Tenor

This is from 12/24/2017

Menehune are a mythological race of Dwarf people,
in Hawaiian tradition, who are said to live in the
deep forests and hidden valleys of the Hawaiian
Islands, hidden and far away from human settlements.
They built temples, fishponds, roads and homes.

Here is a story told to me by a gentleman from Lanai.

When I was a young child, age 12, I was in the hills of
Lanai when I spotted something in a brush patch.
I walked casually, forward to this patch and met a small
Menehune, who I found was also 12 years old. I was of
short stature, about 3 feet tall and the Menehune, was shorter.
I estimated he may have been 2 feet tall.

We talked for a while, then he said he had to go. I never saw him
again, until I was about 60 years old. Fate stepped in and
I met him once more. He was still 2 feet tall and didn't appear
to have aged. I recall my father saying, the Menehune, grew,
at a slower rate than humans and didn't age like the rest of us.

I am much older now, living at a retirement home in the Seattle area.
I hope to return to Lanai to see if my Menehune friend will be at the
same place, I last saw him.

An old writing, for you.

A withered tree,
branches askew,
moss covered limbs,
reminding me of who?

Wayward branches,
straight in the air,
reminds me of you,
when you spiked your hair.

Feeling ignored,
unappreciated?
Join the
Woe is Me Society,

or successfully withdraw,
from Social Activities.
An internal choice:
Nobody loves me,
Everybody hates me,
guess I'll go eat some worms.

Words over here,
Words over there,
but never are there,
Words to spare.

Where do words
go, when you orate?
Do they vanish in air
or just head for the gate?

Words, once lost,
have now been found.
Why words which are silent,
will never have sound.

The table was in the back of the room,
tucked away, in the corner. Shadows crept,
across the faces of those seated.
She was dressed in furs and an evening gown,
with a Boa wrapped around her delicate neck.
It became obvious that she didn't belong in the
dinginess of this seedy bar. Nevertheless those
present, admired the beauty of her appearance.
No one paid attention to her presence, at least not,
visibly, but they were aware of her presence.

Time passed slowly, throughout the early afternoon.
Soon, the after-work crowd would arrive and do their
usual, "scoping out" of those in the room.
Some brave self, anointed "Casanova" would venture
forth to attempt a conversation with this beautiful woman
tucked into the shadowed recess of the corner.
One such, came forward. He was politely refused to
have a conversation. She definitely was waiting for a
specific person.

Around 7, in the early evening, a foppishly dressed man,
approached, said a few words and sat with the woman.
Their conversation was quite animated, with hand gestures,
and strained laughter. It must not have been pleasant for he
stood up and abruptly left.
A few minutes later, the lovely lady, arose and walked with long
strides, out the door.
I'm unsure of where she went, but there was never another glimpse of
this beauty, who will always be a mystery.

Lost and alone,
in the dark,
trying to remember,
where did I park.

Alone she sat,
under a tree,
searching the horizon,
looking for thee.

Long was her wait.
It shouldn't have been,
but staying, she would,
staying for him.

A love story,
beginning long ago,
coming to finality,
deservedly so.

Sad were the times,
after they had met.
Society in general,
wouldn't let her forget.

Forgetting the why,
her first love left that day,
memories and love went
to a place faraway.

Now she awaits,
waiting for he,
with a love which,
was meant to be.

When the cats away,
the mice will play,
except when the liquor,
is locked away.

Subtle message?
I think not,
more likely someone,
in charge, just forgot.