Magazine Posts

With all the wind, came the rain,
To soak the ground, around the flowers,
With an occasional ray of Sun, through
A window pane, gave promise of showers,
Mixed with Sun breaks with no disdain
Of the picnics that last for hours.

Feelings

You warm my life
with your infinite smile.

The sound of your voice
stirs me.

Melodious tones echo in my
head as you speak.

I am overcome by the
moment.

Come my child and fly with me
to a sunny tropic isle,
where you can see red coconuts
and a purple crocodile.
Imagination is your friend
as we lift, from off the floor,
while spreading wings, beat quicker now
and we begin to soar.
Drifting through the clouds,
like puppets on a string
and wind with it's freshest breath
makes all our clothing sing.
Look down my child,
look down below,
beneath us, on the ground,
as we see trees of coconut
and hills made out of mounds
of chocolate, marshmallows
and other sweets to eat,
provided that you keep it
from sticking to your feet.

Lights in the distance,
pillowed softness,
cottony droplets suspended,
in a milky sea,
sound of distant autos running,
muffled by the blanket of fog.

Trees and shrubs, an
occasional person, shrouded
with white, reflective vapors.
Fog lifts from ponds and marshes,
sounds echoing across the flat.

The explosion of two ducks, rising
with squawking beaks and drumming wings.
These are the memories that I remember
from those days of long ago,
when I was young.
The excitement comes
from anticipation.

Why must we choose
between two friends,
we both love and trust?

The hurt that is seen,
the pain, that is not,
is hard to understand.

Why those whose love
had been, for years,
now has turned into sand
and dried up tears.

When the days of life
draw near the end
and the light within
begins to dim,
when the breath of
those,
who live today, draws short
while the body withers
and dies.
Will you remember
the times that were
and of the love we had?

A lonely tear, slides down my cheek
as I think of this life of ours.
It pains me when recalling you,
now the tear has become two.
I am not weeping, there is no more.
Just the tick of a clock.

I am fascinated by an old car.
A Model S2000, from Honda you see,
Get's the blood pressure up, for me.
Not too practical for me, to be at
But reminds me when I had my Fiat.
A Fiat Spyder, Model one twenty four,
French Blue in color, four on the floor.
A convertible top with two latches to click.
I could drop the top, sitting in traffic.
A great toy, that I did really enjoy.
The S2000's I see, makes be feel like a boy.