Magazine Posts

A poetic license is what is said,
when words wanted, aren't in your head.
So, let's get past all this now,
if I explain it to you; somehow,
using words of no rhyming;
using words of no pattern or sound,
clarify to the reader with confusion profound.
So pick up the pen and write away
a poetic writer you are on this day.

The love I feel,
when you're close to me,
I cannot describe
for I only see,
the person I married.
It's you. It is thee,
as life moves on
during this time of misery.

Many of the words, unused before,
lay as castoffs on my writing room floor.
Wrinkled, dried as leaves from a tree,
waiting, still waiting to be used by me.
Words forgotten, well past their age,
can be returned to life; to a page
in a notebook, a paper, using a pen,
to be written for the reader again.

The long goodbye, into the night,
should have been happy and bright.
A life's journey, ending this way
with sadness and loss every day.

Quit dragging your blanket,
the words came to me,
for you are her rock;
it's what it must be.

I'll try again, yes I will,
for hearing her bright laughter
always gives me a thrill.

When I was quite young.
Much too young for romance.
I wanted to then learn,
learn how to slow dance.
Being able to waltz, expertly
The standard, a four step,
appealed to my new sensibility.
You'd be in my arms
and everyone would see;
Gliding on the floor, smooth.
The box step for me.
A two step, my plan,
fast and lively it was,
much better than the Varsovienne.

The words are so many,
I write down a few.
How do I capture them,
When I think of you?
Words appear in a mass
of those I must undo,
to capture all the meaning.
It's what Poets will do.
Writing of words, over time,
searching for one or two,
finding words which will rhyme.
Words pouring out, so quickly,
those sublime, one more time.
Writings will fade, after ink
becomes old, with paper brittle,
thoughts now forgotten, they sink.
No one reads; very little
as I say now to you,
no matter the day it's
here now for my friend, you.

When writing these words,
I'm trying to say
the pain I feel
is here to stay.
The loss of life,
just not this day,
for it's her mind
which has gone away.

I love to see your bright smile,
when you greet others; who you beguile,
with your charm and a sweet hello
For me it is why I love you so.
A love coming from what I see
a love of life; a love so platonically.

The fog has settled
to the ground below.
The street lights now
emit a halo, a glow.
Eerie the view
the whiteness
you can see,
as the soft envelope
of fog covers up thee.

Where have you been, my darling wife?
You left again. It was last night.
You body near me, mind gone away.
I miss our talks, not here today,
For logic and reason, aren't in play.
You'll get better, for this I pray.

I have lost my vision of today,
I've lost the path; lost my way.
I'll look again, at least once more,
Expecting opportunity knocking at my door.

I take the pen.
I write the verse
Of how I feel,
When things are worse.
I will not run.
I will not hide,
As long as you
Are by my side.