Magazine Posts

When the words become angry,
but are not directed at thee.
When the words become strong
like an ancient Oak tree.
Please try to recall now,
what I wrote was to be,
the kindest; the best person
everyone would see.

What is this life,
I write about?
Where is the joy,
when only the pain
is present, every day?
It won't leave soon;
will not go away.
She is a small child,
in her mind, now,
for it matters not
what she knew
as she is totally
dependent upon you.

A square of paint,
Glass half full
of many thoughts,
about feelings for you.

I have searched the World over,
from near, far and wide,
searching for my partner,
who rode by my side.
A companion I loved
and defended at any cost,
until the most saddest of days,
when it was her life I lost.
I searched every cranny and flags unfurled,
in search of my love, a beautiful girl.
Thinking I had found her, a short while.
To me this person; It was there,
an instant awareness; I knew it was her.

The grandest of plan,
at least it was then.
The grandest of plan
ever devised by a man.
It was a great plan
and it would soon be,
one, which changed the Worlds view
of our Nations' history.
What happened on the night,
caused stress in our land
A military, watchful life,
away from here now.
Move quickly or I fear,
you no longer will
be with us the following year.

When you drag rough thoughts from your mind,
they will appear on paper, line by line.
Are they good or a plain, simple rendition?
Will the words last or leave by attrition?
I no longer know the words for me,
for my heart lies broken, as it must be.
How can I enjoy this messed up life,
when I see the damage done to my wife?

I have a new child.
Not new to me,
but a child, now,
who is eighty three.
She no longer can do,
those basic tasks
nor make decisions.
She cannot tell you,
what any trouble she has,
for she knows not the name,
of any item she sees.
What kind of World must it be?
How do I take my lifelong friend,
who trusts me and move her to
a memory care unit.
It will destroy her. I know it
and yet , it is something I must do,
if I truly mean, "I love you."
My heart if broken,
it may not mend.
Is our life life now over?
Have we neared the end?
I hope not. I must employ
some good things for her to enjoy.

Tell me a story.
Tell me my friend,
I have an interest
and two ears to lend.
Tell stories of real life.
Let us not do, "Let's Pretend."

I wouldn't call her beautiful,
although some people do.
I would say she's lovely,
but not as lovely as you.
It is her heart; her caring way,
as she took care of you,
in her most loving way.

She wore lovely shoes,
on those beautiful feet.
They kept her toes warm
and dry; a great treat,
for when it rained here,
as it is want to do,
her paws remained dry;
this companion to you.

A ray of light, slices across the sky,
circling the Earth, as it passes by
where we live. I see and am wondering why
the Blue Ray from space, makes another try.

I search my mind.
I scratch and scribe,
upon the paper,
using my old hand,
as I pull forth,
some words, from out
the brackish water, mine.
I wish you well,
for now's the day,
to change your life,
while you are still
the wife I know,
who lives in this house,
morning, noon and night.
Stay close to me
for the care givers life,
is never over or done.