Magazine Posts

The greatness of this World is seen
with every sunrise with daylight in between.
What greater view, for which to strive,
then to watch the World come alive.
The musical notes, of the song
bird, float on the pure morning air,
as Bees and branches of trees,
stirred by the wind, are heard everywhere.

It's time to write.
It's time to shed,
All of these words,
Stuck in my head.
I must now write,
Quick as I can,
For words flee
Much faster than
I can put them to paper
And so you see,
If it's not written,
I won't capture thee.

I was in a dream.
On a path, I chose to follow,
until I came to a pond,
with a large log, all hollow.
The opening much taller than I .
Outside it was covered with moss,
I moved to the mouth and did try
to enter the log; I heard my name; calling
and in a few steps, I was falling,
landing on my old knees.
In front of me, a sight that could please,
was the face of a friend, no longer here.
I struggled to rise from this musty place,
trying to crawl one knee at a time.
The air became heavy as if from smoke,
then suddenly, from the dream, I awoke.

In this dark World, the light you bring
Is happiness and love; It's everything.
The way you talk to people
Strangers and friend,
Sets the stage; where you'll
be at the end.
The end of life's journey,
Shortens every day.
Be thankful to those who helped
Along the way.

Look at me.
Look this way.
Can you not see me?
I wish you would say,
I'll be right with you,
Instead of looking away.
Don't ignore my spot in your place,
Please I came here to eat,
Not just be a face,
That you choose to ignore.
This probably sounds terrible
But have I become invisible?

In the morning hours,
sitting, with pen in hand,
words pouring forth
like mental sand.
Falling to paper,
inscribed with ink,
only I know what I think.
My mind is filled,
with words galore,
pouring out through an open door,
for my hand is starting to hurt,
as I sift through the sandy dirt.

Don't mock me or the clothes, that I wear.
Please don't even mention my hair.
My hair, is not the bluest of blue
Kind of a mixture or purple hue.
I wear my yellow morning coat, you see
And the polka dot tie that goes to my knee.
My pants are a lovely shade of emerald green,
With pointed shoes, that would impress the Queen.
Why do you stare at poor, lonely me?
I dress this way because I am free.
Free to do what ever I like,
I even have a bright yellow trike,
With bells and whistles, setting the scene,
For I'm fulfilling my only childhood dream.
So off I go, on the short, little trip,
You must admit, that I do look quite hip.
So tell me now, If you possibly can,
Am I your picture of an elegant man?

I water the plants, that are in our yard.
Watering is easy; pulling the hose is hard.
With my I Pod playing and the buds in my ear,
I listen to music and then I do hear,
Willie Nelson, a wailing, like only he can do
And his song brings my thoughts, directly to you.
This is an old, sentimental song for me.
My eyes start to moisten, I hate that they do
But the words being sung, remind me of you.

Petals yellow
Centers brown
Brothers, sisters
All around.

When you are young
there's little more
to say about those
days of yore when
we ran free
like the wind.
It mattered not
to you or I,
for the love we knew
happened in a flash
and was more of
puppy love, not to last.
Infatuation could be
a great surprise,
as emotions ran so high.
The only thing
happening was
finding a new love,
once again, as this
life's cycle, would repeat
as love or lust
was on our minds
passing us again,
one more time.

Could I be your friend?
Would you please be mine?
I am a beautiful Porcupine.
A strange little creature,
That's what I be,
But I am friendly,
That you can see.
You must be careful
If you try to hug me,
For my quills will engage
And will come free.
A painful thing for you,
But won't be for me.

Stay away from me.
I heard someone shout.
You know nothing, you see
Or what I am about.
Leave me alone
Please let me be.