Magazine Posts

I will write no more tomorrow,
perhaps.
The thoughts in this mind is in a
match,
for control of my elusive emotions;
complicated,
I desire to do what's right for
her.

Inane questions
are asked of me.
Conversations abut
the border of insanity.

The life we live now,
is a rock strewn path.
Smooth walking at times,
stumbling progress we go,
down the road of sorrow,
slowly we stroll.
My heart is broken, again,
I have lost count,
for there are no words,
which are laying about,
for me to use, describing the pain.
I know from my past
it will take time to heal,
but heal, it certainly will.

The little things you notice.
She uses her spoon for eating
all things, as the fork has
become an unusable tool.
She adapts to the use,
I can see she is no fool.

My mind is a blank
palette, for me.
Words which I see,
written on the paper,
my want is to say,
a new love will come
to you if you try
and be the best person,
in this short, crazy life.

I have heard
the migratory call,
at early Dawn;
at twilight time,
as flocks of
Canadian Geese,
perform their ritual .
A precursor of what
will soon become,
as the geese sweep
the sky, telling us
of what is to come;
we have returned.

I remember my first attempt
at skipping a stone.
"Kerplunk" was the noise,
I heard all alone.
Finally I made my body
and forearm twist,
by throwing flatter
and a flick of my wrist.
The stone left my hand
at a shallow trajectory,
skipping across the water
as far as I could see.

I love getting old,
said no one.
The aches, pain
and all those beyond.
The sudden hurt
in the back of your neck.
When you rise from
bed and your back hurts.
Go jump in the shower,
turning the heat up high.
Wash away the ache
but still asking why?
Is the mattress too firm
or too soft for me?

Along the road,
patches of weeds,
clumps of grass,
grew a flower,
straight and tall,
majestic, in repose,
seen by
those who drove,
a very red,
elegant Rose.
Some kind soul,
stopped her car,
dug up the flower,
and planted it,
with loving care,
along a garden path,
for those to see
and all to share.
The beautiful flower,
blooms again.

I'm happy the Rooster Bakery
isn't charging me rent,
for the use of of their patio
and the time we have spent.

The light shone bright
thru the window pane.
An eternal life's lamp;
a bright, flickering flame.
A shadow cast broadly
on the objects below
as the light's reflection,
made darkness into snow.

A new Tulip bloomed;
Planted last Fall.
Short and stubby,
Not very tall.
The flower came quick
and opened its all,
to a burst of color.
T 'was in the head,
a bursting bloom.
A most beautiful red.