Magazine Posts

Do you remember
your first encounter
with an older adult?
I do. I was young,
still in my teens.
My mother took me to lunch
at Clark's Copper Kettle,
located in West Lake,
near the Ben Paris Emporium.
The waitress, lovely she was,
captivated my young heart.
I was smitten. In love,
for the very first time
or it was, what I thought
love was about.

I do not enjoy life,
not one little bit,
for I miss my wife,
I do this admit.
She is the best thing
in this sad life
and will always be
the one. My wife.

Every time, these past few nights,
as I help her get ready for bed,
before I turn out the light,
my eyes seep the sad tears,
realizing my love will
no longer be living with me.
How many years have gone by,
when I would see your face,
kiss you good night and say,
I love you and you would
say I love you too?
Those words now gone away.

I wish for the weather to warm
before any more damage occurs,
to the new plant growth.
I have lost many potted plants,
more than I can recall
from seasons past.
A sadness comes over me,
for the loss of growth,
taken so indiscriminately.

Here we go, once more,
into the breech
about the topics
no one will teach.
About life's challenges,
amidst heart ache galore,
with all of our feelings,
downtrodden on the floor.
Get it together, please understand,
your feeling of weakness,
makes not a lesser man.
There still will be tomorrow
of this I am sure,
so please manage your emotions,
if you wish to endure.

When love has died
and been taken away,
is there a redemption
to return and stay?

Life is exciting.
Love is grand,
when your life
is on demand.
Nothing works now,
like it did before,
when life makes demands
and nothing more.

There is an enjoyment,
when I visit my wife,
for she will say,
"I love you" many times,
which breaks my heart
to see her slip away
from our life's reality.

A vassal,
a vessel,
a journey
through life,
in search
of someone,
who is
my wife.
Do not
fear me
for willing
am I
to reach
the stars,
when I
must die,
for living
a life,
all alone
is not
a choice.

I am sitting here,
in the tree,
branches helping
to conceal me.
I am hoping I hear
and then see,
more food morsels
which will be
my salvation
and to feed me.

The clouds were
all dark and ominous.
Dark were they,
an angry Cumulous.

What is this life,
when God takes away,
a beautiful person,
from a life of joy,
leaving a shell,
mindless but loving,
who is unable to
care for herself?
Don't tell me
about a just God.
I don't see him.