Magazine Posts

The water swirls and gushes
Over rock and stone.
I stand on the bank
But I'm not alone.
There are trees of Pine
And some Bramble bush,
While the water moves
Quickly, with melodic rush.
I stand there, fly rod in hand
Making cast after cast,
Seeing where the fly will land
In the right spot,
The back of the eddy.
With fingers touching the line,
I await and am ready,
For the tap, from a fish,
That wants this fine morsel.
If it bites, I'll have my wish
And soon be on my way,
With a most delectable fish.

May I borrow your name
for just a moment?
I'll give it back,
with only the corners
slightly bent
from too much usage.
I love your name
and the way
it seems to fit
into my vocabulary.

Some yellow Columbine's bloomed into view.
A true color, exotic shape I see
And then another one, with a smaller flower,
Black as night and has the power
To keep me going; looking all around
And discover another Columbine, that does abound

Word after word
drops from my head.
It's ten minutes to four,
go back to bed.
Get you some sleep,
fall asleep soon
or you will still be
sound asleep at noon.

The warmth of love
comes from the soul,
gushing forth, through
words, soft spoken,
spraying outward
through peoples eyes.
Loves sweet presence
goes unheard,
goes unseen,
without a sound,
if people, the living,
are indifferent.

My mind is filled with clutter
like the top of someone's desk.
Do you suppose or I propose,
please don't call me today.
It's meeting time,
go stand in line
and hurry up!
But wait!
Go get in line
one more time,
as if we're all darn sheep.

Pollution is in everything,
we eat, breathe, drink,
hear and see.
Keep in mind the
things we do,
on every working day,
like filing words on paper
with thoughts that are past.
It would be nice to
be with you
or even run away,
to some forgotten,
Native place
where all adults
can play
while children work
to support the rich
and you and I
can stay
and spend a happy
hour or two
and never go away
from each other.
For friends are welcome
all the time.

I told you my mind was
a clutter,
I just didn't say,
I would utter,
all these thoughts
to thee.

Did I tell you or just suppose,
That I have my grandfather's nose?
What does that mean, you ask of me?
It just another part of our heredity.
To borrow the looks, face or hair
From others of which I'm not aware.
Truly a marvel, in this day and age,
When as we get older, we become a Sage.

I press my hand to your cheek
And feel wet, softness.
Why do you weep?
I will kiss the sadness from your eyes
And make you happy.
Let your thoughts wander;
Think of fields of flowers,
Shining in the Sun
And of waves in motion,
Slapping on the sand,
While cool breezes,
Blow upon your face.