Magazine Posts

I don't suppose I'll work
with you again,
during this life we live.
Love can be a lonely cut,
when only pursued by one.

I love to think,
our love is here and done.
Why do the memories,
now ebb and flow?
When we were together,
it was the greatest love show.

This sentiment seems to be appropriate for
the moment. Not fatalistic but a
realism in this moment.

This happening recurs almost every year in the
Great State of California. Why isn't this a fixable,
situation. Certainly, must have some impact on
Global Warming, not to mention the lost properties
and all the memories that burned.

Blowing wind,
across meadow and plain.
Rushing through as if
a Midnight train.

Carrying dirt and debris,
across the valley. where you be.
bringing your love,
home to me.

I can feel a change, in myself today.
When I leave this place,
I hope to leave with,
my full dignity and grace.

It appears there is a change and
my time may be drawing nigh.
I will hang on as long as I can.
I know, I will at least, try.

I sit here trying to recall the "old" days,
when I was an enlisted man, in the US Navy. Actually,
I was a Third-Class Petty Officer. I cite in this writing,
coming back from liberty, in a foreign port and the procedure
we were expected to do.

Be you the person,
with dreams in your head,
from the moment you awoke,
and arose from your bed.

We need dreamers,
in this great world, ours,
or you may still be riding horses,
instead riding in cars.

I was a long way,
a long way from home,
when I realized I was lost.
Lost in my mind.

Why the sadness?
What had I done?
Why was I thinking,
you were the one?

When the action, you took,
never came into play,
and here we are looking,
at a new, old day.

Sometime ago,
in a land forlorn,
when I arrived,
the year I was born.

Times were tough,
I've been told.
Looking for work,
was getting old.

Jobs on the Railroad,
a section gang for me.
Laying new rail and tracks,
in Montana, where I be.

The middle of the depression,
when money was tight,
as bills were mounting,
as we worried through the night.

I can see you have returned.
My old friend, Depression,
has reared its ugly head,
as my gloomy mood is in procession.

Why do you come back
into my life?
You nibble the edges, of
the memory of my late wife.

What am I to do with
this way I feel,
when I know your motive,
is not real?

Was there ever a time,
when life was, OK?
I am uncertain,
and know not what to say.

Life's great journey,
may blow hot or cold,
but uncertainties,
will never grow old.

The wind came tumbling,
down the hill where I sat.
Picking up debris which,
lay on the ground, yet,

down the hillside,
it did rapidly go,
until the grass in
the broad meadow,

began swaying and all
many trees where they stood,
buffeted by the winds and
composed of decayed wood.

Branches snapped,
while limbs fell,
the oldest tree,
was not faring well.

It's surprising how are
bodies are like trees,
for when a strong wind strikes,
it a medical disease.

Our limbs are quite fragile,
and our spirits may be weak,
for as we age, parts of our body,
looks for strength it can seek.

No matter the reason,
no matter the cause,
our life may change or worsen,
for it has many flaws.

Love you all, who are with me
on this weird ride.
My body feels strong,
when you are by my side.