Magazine Posts

Water roaring down the bed,
between the moss covered rocks.
Icy cold, glacier fed,
milky color in early Spring,
pooling in eddies, pushing deep,
rushing water sounds do sing.

These red flowers are a delight
They seem to bloom overnight.
A sea of red that I see
Are etched in my memory.

The soft caress. The lovely clothes,
Brings back the memories, once again.
No reveries, no lustful thoughts,
For those no longer matter to me.
Just be near me, when you can
And I will always be the one
To wrap you in my arms,
keeping your body warm
And protect you from the World's ills.
I love you, my darling dear.
Please hang on for all your worth,
As I will stay here by your side,
Until that time when life ends.

When these succulents
Burst into bloom
They gladden my heart.

I was born in the valley,
on the dining room table.
I can show you the house,
while I'm still able.
No hospital or Dr. you see,
for a Midwife is the one
who delivered me.
Bundled me in a blanket,
to keep this child warm.
Then so gently she
gave me to my Mom.

I have discovered something, new to me
that while the best things in life are free.
The honest reality of living on this day
is the understanding, that we all must pay,
for the convenience to stay dry and warm,
from the earliest day, when we were born.

A shadow fell across the moon
the day my brother died
and grief poured from my soul
and tore me up inside.

I can't remember, in this short life
and perhaps I've never tried,
to think about the grief and sorrow
the day my brother died,
for he was but a child of three
and should have lived, much longer.
I'm sure he would have if God had made
his body that much stronger.

The years have passed, as has the grief and sorrow
and eyes then wet with tears, have dried,
but I will always remember
the day my brother died.

The long, slow, ebbing tide
covers the mud flats; glistening with
a mirrored surface. The smell
that comes with the change
of tide, brings forth the primal ooze,
of life and decay.
I love that Sea aroma as it calls
up the memories of our origin.

A sunny day
and I will say
flowers this full
are beautiful.

Far across the meadow
Sits a shining hill.
It beckons to my soul,
When the air is still.
I hear the voices calling
And probably always will,
Till my days are over
And the voices, no longer shrill.

A flower in bloom
Will brighten the gloom
Of a gray, overcast sky.

I come from a family of seven,
Being the oldest child
Of all my Siblings.
I may not have been the most wild,
But I set a path for them to see.
Our ranks have thinned, over the years
And we are fewer in numbers.
Losing a brother, at the age of two.
Our younger brother, his name is Steve
He was the second sibling to leave
At the young age of fifty-eight.
A life of abuse of his body to ruin,
Never to recover his own failings.
His many children do live on
And his memory will always be
In my heart for eternity.
Miss you little brother's.