Magazine Posts

I walk at night.
I walk alone,
On my way,
without my phone.
There is no distraction.
No music to hear,
As I face my worries,
While acknowledging my fear.

A fear of failure now,
As your slow decline
Of memory loss,
Increases the damage.
Increases the cost
Of caring for you.
In a manner of good
For you my sweet one,
It must be understood,
For you can't help yourself,
On this Summer Day.
When you talk to me,
Upon rising and you say,
"What do I do next?"

So there I was,
talking out loud,
it was because,
I was in a crowd.
A crowd? Wait one,
I must admit,
the quiet has been nice,
but not at the
cost of the life
of others, of who I read.
No longer with us,
so many are dead.
Say what you will.
Do what is right.
How in the World,
do you sleep at night?

He stays hidden, in the plants.
I will find him waiting there
with his patience; he has plenty.
He waits there, he won't roam,
for he is a most faithful
the silent garden gnome

Rant and rave; Lie if you must.
Your soul will crumble into dust.
A fitting end for someone like thee.
Leave us now for an eternity.

"Just start writing,"
He said to me.
"Let your thoughts go
and you will see,
the words coming forth,
like weeds from the ground
and jump to the paper,
for now they are found
to be unrestrained,
nothing in the way."
Writing, keep writing
until your hands cramp
and your brow becomes
annoyingly wet, as
I try to pull words
from my head or mouth,
to keep the flow coming,
by not going "South"
away from it all, if you please.
Get thee down on your knees,
pray to the Lord, not in vain,
calling forth all by their name.

I jump out of bed.
Literally, for me,
for my back aches
and have neuropathy.

Life was great.
Life was good.
Then I found
It wasn't understood.
For those who know
Life is not a play
Or a movie show
But a path forever
With nowhere to go.

I knew everything would be alright,
for it was love, at first sight.
The curve of her body, long and thin
and I must mention the color of her skin.
The color was dark; black not blue,
I am certain that would move quite a few.
Her voice had a rumble. Nice to hear,
with a sound so pleasant to my ear.
Why does my blood rush this far
when I'm looking at a new car?

Froe and to or to and froe.
My words have no place to go.
Perhaps, in haste, I try to be,
The poet I'm not but want to be.

I hurt, I ache, I feel, not good
but at this age that's understood.
The aches and pains will go away.
Bear on for with you they'll stay.
Things may get better. Wait and see
if you take enough Tylenol three.

Where do you go,
when your mind goes away?
You won't tell me
and will only say,
"I don't remember,
I no longer know how,
for my mind is gone now."
You recall nothing of our married life.
Neither the happiness or the strife.
I miss you so, my darling one
and dread the day when you won't come,
back from this place where you go.
If you do, I can only hope you say hello.

I am not afraid of dying.
It is not my fear.
I am afraid for our Country
and if we will be here, next year.

The man in charge
has fled the scene.
Worried about his re-election,
his thoughts are obscene.
Why, after many months,
the data you scan,
have you not taken action,
you still have no plan.