Magazine Posts

A landlocked Salmon,
I seem to be,
for I will never
go to the Sea.
Kept in the restraint
of an inland, free,
from a migratory route;
let me go, is my plea.

From the darkest shelf,
in the back of my mind,
lay shadows of doubt,
much of the time.
Am I good enough to do
what I do,
or am I only good when
I take care of you?
What started as Dementia,
no longer will appear,
for based upon your composure,
something new is here.
Alzheimer's behavior is now,
what I can see
and it scares me. You
don't know objects, which is
a symptom, which I have read
is typical with many patients,
afflicted with Alzheimer Disease.

A sunny day,
a slight breeze,
a quiet spot,
amongst the trees.
A greater place,
for the day to seize.

To watch a word die
as it forms a death spiral,
is not a weakness
and is not viral.
Words are created every day,
to provide more meaning to all
the words we choose to say.
Write the words, short or long,
add music to your writings.
Let them burst into song.

I awake to a dull roar
of noise; the crashing of waves
on the sand of the beach floor.
The pungent smell of the Sea;,
assaults my senses; a fine mist
of salty spray, cools my skin.
My shoes are off, cold sand.
I feel its hardness.
A foot away, the sand is dry and fluffy
the wind blows stinging my face.
The squawking noise of Seagulls sail,
in windy updrafts, searching the beach.
Sunlight blossoms from the Eastern sky,
as shadows creep , slowly past
the sounds and smells are locked
in my mind, as my shaky fingers,
scribe these memories, onto the page
of another notebook, with pen
in hand, I recall again and again.

Time flees.
Days go past.
Another week.
One more month,
as years pass by,
more friends leave.
It's when you know,
there will never be,
enough time,
left to do,
all of the things
you wanted to.

The days have grown longer,
longer than before,
but soon they will shorten
and be less, not more.
It will soon be Winter
with frost at your door.

The lights flicker,
there is no wind.
No tree limbs,
falling on power lines
and, yet the lights
do a funny dance.

Bring forth the message.
I will not fail,
be it hand written
or even in Braille.
Words are the strength,
residing within he.
Hear my message to you.
Please don't ignore me.

Run where others fear to walk.
Make life about action, not about talk.
Speak for all who are in need,
for it is your time to do a good deed.

I feel nervous,
like I did at my first dance,
where a shy country boy,
dreamed of a romance.
A romance, oh so rosy,
there was never a chance,
to do anything other
than to dance every dance.

Where are the words,
which run to be free,
as they do their best
to escape and elude me.
I will let my mind go,
perhaps they will return,
for at the moment
of my minds lividity.