Magazine Posts

He fell with Grace.
A scenic fare,
with out guilt
and no despair.
Arms stretched out,
there was no noise.
No explanation about
the way he fell.
No one questioned,
there was no doubt,
this poor soul; this man
was very much down and out.

I try not to worry,
but I will be concerned,
when a healthy body
takes a wrong turn.

Taking action quite quickly
is what you must do,
for finding the problem
is a solution for you.

Love surrounds us, now.
It has been there all the while.
When we love another
love brings a richness; Smile

Three ants on a twig,
struggle with the breeze.
Next time, one said
we will stay with the trees.

You told me last night,
you'd be dead in 2 weeks.
Why do you say such
ridiculous words?
Are you angry with me?
Is that what it is? I hope not,
for I give what I can give.

I find it funny,
in an odd kind of way
You will talk to others,
but do not say,
anything to me.
You are polite
and courteous to me
as your customer.
The coldness I feel,
is probably just me.
If I have offended you,
I'm sorry.

There was a time
when I believed my Soul
was being held hostage.
Don't ask me to explain,
for I'm not sure I can;
it is the sub-conscience
of an old, old man.

What words roll off
this tongue of mine?
Hoping they're well meaning
and not at all unkind.
We speak, sometimes
the brain is not engaged.
Not a good trait to have,
but it does happen
and when it does,
fess up your apologies,
refresh your cause,
keep on with your life,
do not stop and pause.

The words are wrong,
they are from a song,
I remember, from long ago.
"Someday, when you're feeling low
and there is no place to go,
I'll be thinking of you
and the way you look tonight."
Apparently these words
which came back to my mind,
written by another.
A beautiful song,
now stuck in my head,
the melody lingers on,
along with the words,
of this most beautiful song.
The Way You Look Tonight
by Dorothy Fields
and Jerome Kern

He fell to the Earth,
centuries ago.
Trying to fly,
as a bird can.
He was Icarus,
who made artificial wings,
using wax, feathers
and many other things.
The story was told,
but so hard to track.
He came too close
to the Sun
and melted the wax.
Falling to Earth,
like fluttering down,
to be immortalized forever
as an inventor renown.

On board our ship
in my casual uniform,
we were at Sea,
heading into a storm.
A Typhoon was forming,
South of Japan.
We were well South
of the course of the storm.
We entered white water;
the ship began to bounce.
The bow rose in the air,
and crashed back down,
for we were steering the course,
heading into the fray.
Standing at the bottom
of the ladder or stair,
you hung on to the rail;
up the ladder, in one bound,
as the bow rose.
A thrill at that time,
for all, I suppose.

Softly flew
the words
from out
my head.
Words; thoughts,
never said.
Lovely words,
yet unused,
locked inside
to never
be read.