Magazine Posts

Eating at night,
so late in the day,
cannot be healthy
but it is my way.

I visit my wife,
and help her to bed.
I come home,
there's no one here.

Eating alone,
is what I do.
Something light
will always be,
my food of choice
as I think of thee.

Tulips are poking
through the ground.
Wishing the rabbit
leaves them alone..

Ember filled ashes
cover the ground,
here in the green,
of our Puget Sound.
Arsonists exist
their fires abound,
in this beautiful place,
we call Puget Sound.

I choose not to write
words, joyless and bare,
for I have nothing
in the memory vault,
at least I surmise,
from my empty soul.

A Spring tilled ground,
mostly rock and clay,
an unhappy choice
for bulbs to grow
and survive,
the dryness of Summer

When
I try
to say
goodbye,
my heart
tells my
eyes to
fill with
tears.

The boom of thunder,
a flash of light,
Winter storms
will take delight,
as the loud noise,
creates a fright
and inside we stay,
through day and night.

Soft are the rain drops,
striking the sill,
as they splatter upon
the colorful Daffodil.

Sitting alone
on a shelf,
I remain
ugly, in nature.
It's not the same
for others,
mis-shaped.
No one bothers
looking at me,
for I am
chipped and cracked.
A long way
from new,
not recently cast,
the old pottery
is now my last.
Feel no sorrow,
no more the lame,
once I was wild,
now I am tame.

A shadow, dark, lays over me.
New feelings of what will be.
My love is strong for thee,
as eyes open and I see,
what our life now will be.

What light
in your window
will bring,
the beauty of flowers,
the joy of Spring?

The home is not a place,
in which I dwell.
Only lost memories,
with no one to tell,
about the love
which lived here,
not long ago.
The love of another,
is better than nails,
to hold a home together,
something I can no longer do.
All of life's possessions,
mean so little to me.
They are the memories,
forgotten. Now gone
and will soon go away,
lost from the mind
of she, who brought love
to this place of emptiness,
once was our home.