Magazine Posts

Long, grew the ferns
in the forest, fine,
amongst the tall giants,
dwarfing the land.
A perpetual shroud of moss
on the rocks and trees.
The trickle of water,
down partial grooves
of a grassy scene,
becoming torrents of water,
white as it boiled
across the rocky bed,
flowing to the river,
from creek to stream,
to an ocean.
As moving water, makes it's way,
via sound and bay, moving
slowly, on it's way to
refresh the Earth,
as Mother Nature reclaims the land.

Within the mindless world
of political games. Played
with little consideration
for the common man are
lies perpetuated to win a
position of trust, which is
destroyed by saying untruths.
Where is the accountability?
When did it become ok to
spread innuendos and besmirch
the reputation of family and friends?

I cannot stay.
I must return,
for today's light;
no more to burn.

My oldest friends
are close to me,
as I live my life,
in a sad reverie.

Life was good.
Life was grand,
until the earth
turned to sand.

Where goethe my soul
on this somber day,
of low clouds
and skies of grey?

Should I run and hide
or should I simply flee?
The decision for this ride
is solely up to me.

Why does humanity
border on the edge
of a terrible insanity?

I have written words,
some coarse, some fine
and found some words,
which are Divine.
Words, which promise
riches and fame.
Words for each of
you to stake out
your personal claim.
A claim to promise,
honor and to obey,
your life's partner
in every way.

What is this life, ours,
but a collection of memories.
A series of events
of our combined histories.

When memories are gone
and have faded away,
there is no recollection
of our own yesterday.

We learn many things,
many by rote.
Why did we lose them?
There wasn't a vote.

Where has love gone?
It was here yesterday.
Our feelings for each other
change and go away.