Magazine Posts

Happy birthday to you,
my sweet little friend, Grace.
I would love to see you,
and your pretty face.

And so, it was,
when first we met.
A quiet place,
like a movie set.

You were sweet,
liking to smile
and those eyes,
oh, could they beguile.

When memories arise,
as we think about,
all the things which happened,
when we would whisper or shout.

Writing in the wee hours,
of the morning time,
was a way of clearing my mind.
of thoughts of useless rhyme.

When the words,
you use, get in the way,
and all you can utter is,
have a nice day.

Has communication by chance
slipped away?
What other ways to
announce, you're going to stay?

Unfettered,
Un reigned,
can you control,
Natures rain.

There's nothing in these words,
except to explain,
or stay in front of you,
and wipe the slate clean.

Do not say never,
when I tell you of the love I bring.
Tempt me not, with water sweet,
until I kneel and present a ring.

Trying to upend, Natures Love,
until once again,
you no longer care for me.
Don't you understand my pain?

I am merely a man,
lost and alone, without you.
Won't you please, help,
me with what I need to do.

The Heart is an organ,
with a remarkable ability
to heal, after being broken
into pieces of futility.

Here I am again,
walking through,
the edge of sanity,
grief is hidden, too.

I am wrestling with
the sane part of my mind,
as I start the process of
untangling the pieces I find.

I thought I was past the process,
but realize while being supportive,
of others, I was not dealing with
my emotions, which I need to live.

Why? Geeze, I wish I knew.
The ups and downs every day,
have brought me fears of failure,
to care for my loved one. I will say,

I know that is not the truth,
but nevertheless, it is real,
in my present state of sanity.
This will be what I need to feel,

if I am to resolve these issues,
troubling as they are,
fixable, with therapy,
which I will try, near or far.

Deep inside,
this chest
of mine,
lies a shard,
of a
broken heart.
"Anguish becomes,
thee",
said no one.

Lines intersect,
to the far horizon,
to a point of
diminishing return.

How long will,
we try to see,
what doesn't exist,
in this short life.

The long road
to oblivion,
living a life, so short,
or a poor decision,

runs the risk of
who you are,
where you will go.
Will you be a Star,

or just a puff,
a flash in the pan.
I know not,
where I am.

Words read early,
words used of late.
I'll look them up,
or I'll pontificate.