Magazine Posts

Time to arise
and prepare a new dance,
as we approach the beginning
of a brand new romance.
Another beautiful, lovely day,
with a clear sky,
later today.

The words which I write on paper for you,
can come easy. On other days hard to do.
My mind runs in circles and colors of blue,
Red, Brown, Green and Yellow to name a few..
When I write, I have no thought in mind,
for I write the words; words which will rhyme.
I wish I could tell you my feelings today,
but the words fall to paper; that's where they lay.

Why do we demean a pig,
when we call someone a swine?
Is it because they're so messy
or if they squeal or whine,
or when they care not for others,
who detest how they dine?
I'll have some crackers and cheese
with my fresh glass of red whine.

I must get away soon,
to the Ocean, I go
and smell the salty air,
taking in a new show.
To feel the sand under
my feet, then I'll know,
when I bask in the Sun
and feel the wind blow.

I feel the dampness as I kneel
down on the grass.
My knees are exposed. When
I work in the flower garden,
I wear jean shorts.
Roots from a large Maple tree,
mar the dark soil.
As I work, planting bulbs
in a hostile piece of dirt,
full of roots and rocks.
Dig down to the level you need
to plant the bulbs, usually 6 inches.
Do not forget to place
the chicken wire, screen
or you will find some bulbs
planted by your squirrel in
other parts of the yard, next Spring.

I reflect on this old life, I've led.
When most of my friends, are now gone,
away from life; to the land of the dead.
This lifetime of mine, has so quickly fled.
Running from my youth; messing with my head.
Go from this land and be very brave,
for your next resting spot, will be in the grave.

To write down the words,
which come to my mind,
in a verse of free prose,
with no sound of rhyme.
For the words which I see
bring forth the pleasure,
here in my mind
of the satisfaction of writing,
time after time.

It is strange
to see my words
on this page.
I write them down
and set the stage,
for my old reflections,
on how I must age.

When the last cold
breath of Winter
passes by, it will bring
the freshness of an
Eternal Spring.

Where is the one, who started it all?
When did he decide to never call,
a shovel a spade or to rake with tines,
and move the leaves, which entwine,
among the flexible teeth of the tool.
Why do we rake leaves, when wet?
Are we just an old fool?

The few words, I knew,
the less I would say,
except the words Hello
and have a good day.
I played by myself,
there were no other boys,
so I became the Master
of all of my toys.
I know what you're thinking,
for it most certainly would be,
I was a small child;
a child, age three

She was quite soft,
she sat next to me.
I put my arm around her,
moving as close as could be.
I remember the softness,
as I became more aware.
She was covered with fur,
there was no hair,
for my new love to be
was my first Teddy Bear.