Magazine Posts

Where have you been?
Where did you go?
Life has moved on
to a new show.

The snow fell,
covering the ground,
muffling the noise,
quiet the sound.
A light wind,
down from the hills,
removing the snow
from my Daffodils.
Less than a month,
for a new Spring
and for some Sun,
flowers to bring.

I no longer know you;
I cannot recall your name.
We were a couple;
some thoughts remain.
Then it was over.
I was to blame.
Rest well, my sweet one.
Please, now rest well,
as my journey has started,
on the long road to Hell.

For want of life
I care not
as I am the one
who has brought
forth the life
of which I know.
Ask me not
for I will go,
to the end of
life and end of show.

I am losing my grip on reality.
One step closer to losing my mind,
as I drift through clouds, towards insanity.
Why does it happen, when losing control
of your emotions or feelings which be,
the every day person can no longer see.
No longer see a purpose in life,
except the importance; caring for your wife.
It should be enough; what lies ahead,
but you worry about what has been said.

In the past years, gone by,
I would drive the old "floating
bridge". There was a curve in
the middle, which would open
for large boats or with high masts.
I owned a sports car, a Fiat 124
roadster; color French Blue.
I would drive fast as it was how
I learned, so many years before.
The sign on the bridge stated,
"Slow to 45". Not this driver,
in my convertible toy for
when it cornered, at speed, there
wasn't any lean as the Michelin radial tires
would grip the surface as if glued
to the road or on a track.
I would speed through the curve, hard,
knowing a 4 wheel drift could come,
any time. What a thrill to drive like
I did. I would not drive the way I described
if there were other drivers close to me.
A second childhood, it was.
A toy, the sports car belonging to you.

Tell me not,
what to do or say,
after you have
taken my love away.

I hear the Sea waves crashing
on the rocks at an Ocean shore,
recalling memories of vacations past
and a desire to return once more.
I can taste the salty, sweetness
in the breeze, coming from the Sea;
yet I long for another trip
to Cannon Beach, for you and me.
Hearing the plaintive cries;
Seagulls in the swirling air,
rekindles my thoughts, of our trips,
when we were young and debonair.

A flash of light,
during a night dark.
A choppy sea,
stirred by the wind.
The rattle of leaves
across the sand,
brings life from a
fortress high,
when the World will know
a new life again.
For a man will walk
among the trees.
No need to know
or to please the way
it was done before,
for life is good
and yet, we still search
for more of what was
then a place to die
and to begin anew,
in the life of ours.

My brain is now dormant.
No activity, to write or think,
except these little ditty's;
words so poor they stink.

Does love abide?
Does love abound,
Through silent nights
with daylight sounds?

Why do the words,
lust, love and pain,
be so emotional,
we can't explain?