Magazine Posts

If I ever come this way again,
I hope you will be my friend,
for I want the World to know,
I love you much and I'll go
another place; a distant shore,
to a place never seen before.

You were right,
I was wrong,
So I decided
To write this song;
All of the words
Stuck in my head,
Makes me wonder,
And in its stead,
I have to decide,
Which way to go,
Or if I'll ride,
To the outdoor show,
For I will sing,
The whole night through,
If you let me see
The other side of you.

May all your ills tomorrow
Be cured by the rising Sun.
May all your bad deeds be forgiven
And all your work be done,
For here's to a new beginning,
With no worry; just have some fun.

From the depths of your Soul,
where love will root with emotion,
springing forth, when nurtured by
the good feeling which arise
by close association to others.
Familiarity may breed contempt,
if not tempered by understanding
of how the meshing of racial
differences, blends the personalities
of tribal customs. We do this
every day, through out our lives,
as we work; as we play.

I think it is time
to write, as before,
using all the lost words,
by my feet, on the floor.
Adjectives and verbs
with metaphors galore,
lay in shambled baskets,
against the room's exit door.

Walking on the beach
after a Winter storm,
brings a salty crispness,
to each breath you take.
A strong wind is blowing
as sand and spray combine,
to wet the exposed areas,
while reshaping the dunes again.
Walk against the wind
on the first leg you stroll;
when you return with
the wind at your back,
it will almost be warm.

I love you so,
it must be time
for us to flee,
away from the pain
of agony's wretched past,
towards a life
of memories gone,
from this empty vessel.
The shell will be
gone one day,
no longer to see
or feel our love.
If it goes away
to vanish,
as if fate
has taken you,
so far away.
I love you so.

Oh my Lord.
Sakes alive.
My brain
is stuck
in overdrive.
I cannot
remove words
now stuck
in my head,
no matter
what I do,
for the words
I now hear,
are "I'll never
find another you".
The music there,
my ears ring,
my musical heart
wants to sing.

A sunny day,
with clouds nearby,
with mottled sky.
No rain this day,
so I stayed dry.

There is no shade beneath the tree.
No place to play. No place to be.
Mottled shadows cover moss laden ground;
shadows of lost memories, are all around
are the thoughts of lives gone by,
thoughts of joy and thoughts which cry.
When will I see your face again?
For I am lost, within my pain.

I am older than glacial dirt
washed down the bed of
a glacial stream.

The black of his feathers,
the cawing begins,
as I place food on the deck
and he starts calling his friends.