Magazine Posts

Why is sadness,
the most news I hear,
when there are other emotions,
which can bring good cheer?
I don't understand,
when life is so dear,
to read of another's life
is gone. No longer here.

I heard the Sirens call,
when I first went to sea.
I'm hearing it once more,
as she is searching for me.
A mournful sound, as I recall.
There was nothing there to see,
except to know in my heart,
she will soon be finding me.
Should I hide away from here?
Will she let me flee,
or go to the Earth's end,
to capture the Soul of me?
I now dream of sleepless nights
when I was last at sea,
knowing when the Siren calls,
it may be the end of me.

Disparage me not,
you, my true love,
for I care for you.
That is my trove.

Here we are,
once more.
A very small fear,
of the loss of
your memory and recall,
which has gone away
and will no longer be,
yours to bring forth,
for others to hear
and all to riminess,
of the adventures we had
during this life of ours.
A captured image, now gone,
we must work hard,
and keep moving on.

Forlorn is the cat
who waits patiently
for someone to appear,
so it can still see,
the caring picture of love today.
I hear him now and will
stay, not go away.

A lost soul
now lives with me,
knowing not where
she should go or be.
Being alone
within her body shell,
I cannot imagine
what type of Hell,
she sees every day,
for there is nothing
to change the way,
for her memories
no longer stay.

This old heart is aching,
it is broken in two.
I would like to fix it,
but uncertain what to do.
Can't mend it with sutures
nor use string or glue.
My only known solutions
is to keep on loving you.

Why do I write the words,
so simple of sound,
when no one is here,
no one around.
I try to write,
about happier times,
with straight flowing words,
which often won't rhyme.
I don't know why,
is what I must say,
for when I write,
the words come out this way.

An aging story
of an old, old man.
A year gone by
without a plan.
A wasted year,
since it began.
A year of lockdown.
One year of restrain,
we cannot regain,
as the time has been lost,
an old mans refrain.

My verse is lame,
like a three legged dog.
It could be worse,
like a two legged frog.
A frog who would jump
and land on its face.
Oh what a failure;
a frog jumping disgrace.

I have been most fortunate
in this life of mine.
May I ask you a question?
Will you be my Valentine?

A golden Moon, brings its rays,
to the place where you lay,
upon the sand, beneath the trees.
Thanks be to God, one more time,
for being there, to hear my words.
Words of gratitude for allowing me
one more day, where freedom
and a good man now leads this Nation.
A man with class and compassion,
who cares about the working man.
Give him strength and help him Lord,
with all your might, to make it,
through the long, dark night.