Magazine Posts

I literally, tripped and fell the other day
over a pile of words, where they lay,
upon the floor, unused but alive,
to be placed in sentences, crude or fine
and I'll use the words, just in time,
to write about this World, ours to own,
with no Internet or Smart Cell Phone.

I jump away, not to hide
but to avoid the word "Decide."
For I must, on one bad day,
decide if you go or stay.
I do not want to make the choice
of where you go. I fear the voice
of worry; the words of fate,
as soon, I will have to berate
a decision I may need
to make and then proceed.

Of complex times,
and simplistic rhymes,
when a President
commits many crimes.
Our law rules,
we aren't fools.
Vote him out
using our tools.

The wax and wane, of life today,
tugs at my heart, in every way.
I care not for what I see,
for this World is not for me.

Your eyes were green,
in morning light.
Your voice was sweet.
as Honey might.
Your skin, a shade
of moonlight Dew,
You captured my heart,
as you always do.

Remember now.
Remember well,
Your first glimpse
Into a living Hell.
Co-vid 19, a virus be,
Has set the course
Of living history.
The loss of life
This present day,
The World's highest
In the U. S of A.
In action by
The same man
whose said to all,
"Make America Great Again".
If this is great,
Then I don't know,
For from his mouth
The lies did go.
There is today,
No National Plan
From this cowardly,
Wretch of a man.

Before another tear is shed,
Be certain, there is no dread
Of living the rest of life,
Alone, without your wife.

It's 2 am,
I'm awake again,
writing words
I don't understand.
Please help me now
and I will stay
with you my love
'til the end of day.

Weep no more.
Weep not for me,
For it will be soon
And I'll be free.
Free from worry,
Free from all scorn,
As I flee from this
My current life's norm.

Another nice night on the deck.
Enjoyed listening to music and
talking about how long the next door
neighbor lived here. The family just
moved out, a week ago, so we are
still having the same discussion
about how long they were here.
Four nights in a row.
I am saddened as I no longer have
an adult who can carry on a conversation
or just be here to talk with.
I feel so bad as there is no cure that
can help her memory. Just a burning
need for me to have patience.
It was still a beautiful time for me
to be able to spend time with my wife.

Water rushing down the bed of rocks.
The sounds that come from water noise,
brings back the memories, of long ago,
when I, a young boy, not a man,
would grab my fishing pole, dig up
some worms; placing in an
old, Prince Albert tobacco tin.
A can that fit perfectly in a shirt pocket.
I would take my fishing creel, hop
on my bicycle, riding to the
area nearby where I believed
I could catch some fish.
Fishing, to me, was a relaxing way
to be alone and away from crowds,
other children or adults.
The quiet serenity of "stalking the
native Rainbow Trout, was mine.
I don't recall catching a trout, but do
remember catching "Bullheads", as
we called them. A small fish that
looked like a Catfish.
I would release them back into the stream.
The creek I fished came down the hill, in
the Riverton Heights area, from Highway 99,
ending at the Duwamish River. The stream
had turned into a ditch as it passed through,
The Golden Arrow Dairy pasture, which is
close to the north end of the South Center Mall.
A great memory, coming from this old mind
of mine. Long may I remember.

Perhaps I need to write of laughter again
and of love for the many friends,
who are now gone.
Another name was seen today;
we will not hear his voice
as we pass by his home.