Magazine Posts

The shrill cry of a Seagull,
with the loud noise of the Sea,
brings back the sounds and smells
from the depth of my memory.
The feeling of wet sand 'tween my toes,
recalls the chill and a runny nose.
I'm up this morning, on the beach,
seeing children playing; dogs at their feet.
A relaxing view, as I hurry along;,
now searching for some more words,
I'm still hearing from an old song.
What pleasure the thoughts bring to me,
recalling my last visit and the smell of the Sea.

The warmth of your hand,
caresses my brow,
causing a pause.
The part of my mind
where my memories are.
The remains of the past,
come back to me,
as I recall our life's
journey, once more.
You don't remember;
I do, of course.
When we were
much, much younger
and the sound of your
voice. I fought back
my tears for the
time in our life's
memories are in arrears.

I love how your eyes sparkle.
I love the sound of your laugh.
The issue is with your accent
Which would choke a giraffe.
It isn't funny, I know when I say
But sometimes my mind works that way.

Driving at night,
through a driving rain.
Those words in print
are hard to explain.
Don't worry now;
try not to upset,
the use of the words,
"Lest we forget."
Lest is a word,
I do assume.
But from whence
it came is obscure.
Remind me now
of what it must be,
being a "purple cow'.
Oh, I do see,
the difference in words,
coming from our history.
This writing makes
very little sense,
for as I write,
my head is quite dense.
So off I go;
I'm off to see,
if these words, I write
are just, crazy, old me.

The Sun broke out
on this lovely Fall day,
only the wind gusts
kept us from being outside.
There was a nip
of Frost, in the air
as the flowers and leaves
have made their last gasp,
as Nature's cycle had,
collapsed the mass brood
of the Dahlias, so full
of forgotten blooms, leaf and stalk,
which creates a subject
during this long Fall stroll or walk.

He went down the path.
An old trail to some,
Towards a place of adventure,
which was yet to come.
A road, he could see,
could very soon become,
a date with his destiny.
He came to the edge
of a wide canyon below.
Venturing forth now, with eland;
down life's trail he went
to become a new man.
The trail he trod,
was his most recent challenge.
A challenge, from his God.
Be a kind person,
the rest of your life.
Provide care to others
as well as your wife.
For her I will be,
the pillar of her strength,
doing it now, for I love thee.

I can hear you now.
You don't have to yell.
We're in the same house,
the place where we dwell.
Must you talk this way?
There is no kindness here now,
so yelling doesn't set well.
A need for a fresh drink,
when you're acting so weird,
pointing at your shoes, I think
is not the message, meant.
I'm not your slave.
Ease up. Please do relent
for I live here too
and I pay bills and the rent.

There is nothing,
nothing in there.
Your heart is missing.
Citizens in despair.
Gone to Mar A Lago,
to play golf,
at taxpayer expense.
Why'd you leave?
People are broke.
You are pitiful,
another big joke.

Have you noticed when the ground
is rain soaked, the Crows will abound.
Down on the grass, working away.
Searching for worms, which come to
the surface for air. They must breathe
and the Crows will start feeding,
when ever they please.

I understand the expediency of
the action taken, I do. But using
a broad brush to apply regulations
to a large business and small
will ruin the small merchants
and contribute to them failing.
A large business has deep pockets,
obtaining loans from the banks.
A small business does not.
Our retail solution, our tax base,
could be the saving grace,
for the economy.
We see it daily. We see it now.
Where is the relief? When you
kill the chicken, don't expect
it to lay eggs.
The rules of the past, are not working
anymore. We must provide assistance.
Do it now. You haven't.
The small business is hurting and the
school system too. What are you
thinking? Bring business's together,
to develop rules, which will work.
Not the flawed logic, you're using today.

What happens when a mind you know well,
tips over the edge into the mental Hell
of Dementia? A disease you cannot see,
except the changes to your loved one, Thee.

Where to start, where to begin,
When do we talk about
The poison within?
It lies deep inside, this body ours,
Manifested by fear and hate.
Trusting no one; only what you see,
Believing liars and their hypocrisy.
Avoiding the truth; idolizing the aberration
And the internal root of our Nation.
What good things still remain inside,
The hateful vengeance; what we see,
When someone else, decides to disagree.
The pent up hate, inside a Soul.
The pain and anguish will take its toll.
They hide amongst us, oh they do,
Being friendly but not liking you.
We must rid the hate from within;
Living our lives; free women and men.