Magazine Posts

So many words, stuck in my head.
Some quite lame; others I dread
To stay within my mind's confine,
Will soon appear to paper, line by line,
To be liked or not and be sublime.
Hopefully you will find those that rhyme.

At what point
in this crazy life,
does one say,
"Enough?"
Enough with the lies,
enough with the cheats.
"Get off my lawn"
You bunch of "dead beats."

Why must I be the way I am?
Feeling guilt about the days,
when I worked and didn't praise
everything you did at home,
taking care of our children, almost alone.
Now we are here, your mind is spent,
no doing the "books" or cooking now.
Unable to function tasks so simple,
It's "My turn," I've said so many times
"to take care of you" as you did I.

Serpent like, it took to the sky,
spreading it's wings, it began to fly.
Swoops and dips, with a loop or two,
It would fly by and spray the dew.
The air from it's massive wings,
Made my heart happy; funny things,
From legends of the past, long ago,
When it flew, it put on a show.
Alas all the people that we know,
Saw it disappear, as away it flew.
Will it return? That's hard to say,
For if children wish hard
Who is to say.

Let us fly on gossamer wings,
Into the air that Nature brings.
Lift up into the beautiful sky,
Flapping our wings, as we try
To soar for hours each day,
Seeing the flowers colorful array.

Many, many years ago
to Chatsworth, California I did go.
It was raining hard.
The streets were wet.
I wondered where the water went
for there were no gutters
or storm drains for the rain to take,
so water ran mostly at random
down the street with sheer abandum.

I have lost her now,
it is what I see.
Lost the brightness in here eyes
Now she has lost her memory.
Her memory of the life of ours,
remembering nothing of before;
where we lived and much more.
I worry as our life is not the same
knowing now she remembers my name.
At least she knows on this day,
uncertain how long it will stay.

Azaleas, so pretty to see.
Are you a plant
or a miniature tree?

A frosty morning
Flowered buds all closed
Opening with the Sun

There is a strange feeling
that comes over me.
A feeling or connection to
the person I'm with.
I don't understand what
is at work at that moment.
I only know the feeling
is good when you are near.

Off we did go
into the gloom,
the night was still,
as if in a tomb.
An eerie feeling
came over me,
when a noise heard
up ahead,
should I wait
or just flee?

Stay awhile, oh creature mine,
for you know
the difference that does entwine,
with your reactive eyes,
perky ears, big by design
to hear the smallest sound,
of predators, in this World
you have now found.

Writing now, with no
purpose in mind; telling
what I see or feel, at this time.
A loss of words that
escape and flee,
doing their best
to make a fool of me.