Magazine Posts

The winds blew the coldness
off the waters of Puget Sound.
"Twas early in the morning then.
The fishing boats with nets abound,
a chilling fog had settled on
my favorite spot, on Puget Sound

The cave was dark,
the light was dim,
dampness in the air.
A cave of lost souls,
filled with their despair.
Souls residing in the cave;
Lost because no one cared.

There is a frailty,
in this life we live.
We see it every day,
as our loved ones,
become sick or ill
and then pass away.
They may be our friends,
or family members too.
No matter who they were
it is always hard on you.

I need to brighten up the night,
writing happy words to you.
Bringing more of the Sun light,
is what I will try to do.
I see all the new births
and the pictures we now share
across the Internet, which I view.
They bring a new freshness
to our lives and begin life anew.
I don't know about what I see
but I do know I love all of you.

I care about you,
even when you challenge me.
I've made an oath
and pledged my life,
to always be with thee,
"In sickness and in health."
No matter what people say
it will be up to me,
if you are to go away.

I was a short term baby.
An accidental pregnancy.
If I had been aborted,
no matter what the cause,
I wouldn't be here. I'd be
the man who never was.

My guilt will over power me,
admitting my wife to a facility,
which helps save her memory.
When laying in our own bed,
talking about the love we have,
there is nothing wrong with her,
except she can't function by herself.
It's the right thing to do,
to help her live a better attended life
with professional care to help her now.

Walking the streets, in this new town,
I could hear the noise; feel the sound.
The music erupted, both near and far,
the rhythmic sound of an acoustic guitar,
sounds of brass, coronets, trumpet and trombone;
a mixture of notes. I am no longer alone.

Tell me,
please tell me,
are there words
in a jar,
which can be
used by others,
no matter where
they will be.
I need to know,
for if I do not,
my creative words,
will be sought;
Pulled from a corner,
of a dusty, old brain,
covered with cobwebs,
needing to train,
for a new beginning,
of life as it is,
not for a secret,
which can not be hid.
Run off to the desert,
abandon your fame,
be selfish now,
with no one to blame,
except every one else.
You're still one and the same.

There was always a closeness,
there was always a chance,
when your very first encounter,
was your very first dance
and would lead to a young lads
opportunity, for an awkward romance.

Why is my head
spinning with words?
Is something wrong?
Don't be absurd,
cries a thought
deep in my head.
Go back to sleep.
Go back to bed.

Do it on purpose.
Write words every day.
Don't treat it as work,
Pretend it's to play.
When you write words,
Down on paper this way,
You'll strengthen your skills,
This is all I will say.