Magazine Posts

When I grow old,
getting in the way,
please treat me kindly,
keeping embarrassment at bay.
I may be quite slow,
but dumb I am not.
Having more knowledge
than you, but I just forgot.

Drink = I did imbibe.
Drank = I imbibed more.
Drunk = I'm on the floor.

When was the day,
where was the fear?
Was victory close,
to being here?
I don't know, but found,
my mind has gone,
short to ground.
Talk not to me about Apps,
when my brain is functioning
with an intermittent synapse.

Wayward the wind,
leeward the sea.
I cross the broad ocean,
searching for thee.

Visiting all the islands,
the smallest of isle,
searching them all
for you to beguile.

Over the land masses,
after a great while,
hoping for a glimpse
of your bright smile.

Now here I am,
many years, gone bye,
my search for you, love
with a wandering eye.

It's a quarter past 4,
what should I do?
Get up now?
Go enter some words?
Write from the heart,
avoid being absurd.
Talk about the past
and your love of life.
For all the stories,
stuck in your head,
unless they're in writing,
so they can be read.

Never in my life
would I have said,
my life is over,
my feelings are dead.
What kind of God,
does this to thee?
Leaving your sweet self
with a destroyed memory.

I enjoy most sounds which sing.
The tinkling of rain against window pane;
freshets of wind coming in small bursts,
a most pleasant of sounds, unless
your window is open. Blinds rattle,
above my sleepy old head, as I try
to fall asleep in the warm, cozy bed.

A plethora
of return labels,
with my name and address,
is crowding the space
at workstation and desk.
Send the labels; a nice touch
but fewer people use the mail
and your gift is too much.
If you want more money,
please say you do.
Quit sending the labels
which we seldom use.

Meet me tonight,
in the shade of the tree.
I'll bring the wine,
you bring just thee.

Do you know me?
I once was your son.
You told me to leave,
darken not your door.
Where you once lived
is "Off Limits" to you.
Did you not see,
you are not wanted here.
Just leave this place.
Leave it alone.
Don't bother to write.
All these harsh words,
were never said to me,
as my family's love,
is still strong to say,
"Do the best you can
to overcome your poverty.

Dawn creeps in,
dark turns to grey.
Sunlight joins in,
what else can I say?
You are the Dawn,
I'll always be
here to love you,
until the darkness,
outside our door,
goes far away,
and it's sunny once more.

I'm writing words,
I no longer love
and no longer trust.
I must start over,
before they're dust.