Magazine Posts

Oh what a day.
Oh what a night,
As the darkness rushes
Towards the daylight.

Would you love me, if you could,
Although my heart and head
Are made of wood?
My arm a kindle of movement about,
If they hit your head you will shout.
A parental voice will then say,
"Put that doll in a box, do not play
With it anymore or any less."
Is it a reason? It can't be a guess.
Toys are wonderful to see
As they can bring joy to thee.

Over the hill,
down your way,
the little mice
have started to play.
Running on tiny feet,
Scurrying about
for something to eat.
Be careful, look up above
or an Owl
will grab your love.
Coyotes also are
not your friend.
Get too close,
that is the end!
Be safe when you play,
so you can return
for another play day.

There is still one thought, I cannot see.
It pertains to the rhyming of poetry.
No matter the journey; No matter how far,
My task is putting my thoughts into a jar.
A jar that when I remove the lid,
Will emit words of the adventures, I did.
Writing down this most random thought
I am always interested to see what I wrought.
Sometimes these words are just sitting there,
Magically they would appear, out of thin air.

When I write for you to see,
What is happening with me,
I try not to keep words inside
But release them, for a ride.
A ride that is so full of emotion,
Reminding me of the vast Ocean,
Or if you would, a puzzling sky above.
Filled with passion and unbroken love.

This raging fire, lies within my chest
And despises what we have become
As a Nation, under God,
That treats others, not our kind,
With hatred, ignorance and crazed mind.

One quick Pony, will do the trick,
If it keeps you happy and doesn't lick
The back of your head, with it's tongue.
Why do they do that when they are young?

Flowers surround this golden path
As the wind whips the colorful mass
Of all the Buds and Blossoms entwined.
As I walk this Nature's path of mine,
Blooms of Daffodils and Tulips have gone away.
Not returning until next years, Spring Day.
There are other beautiful flowers to see,
Shasta Daisies and Esters shine, readily.

I am afraid. My mouth is dry.
Not going to weep nor will I cry.
I'm six years old, wondering why
My parent's left me with no goodbye.
Great grandmother Fischer was sitting with me.
I didn't know her language was from Germany.
Was I afraid? More than likely, I think I was,
No reason, I'm sure. Probably just because

The kitten played and he tugged
With the yarn ball on the rug.
He batted it with a tiny paw,
Snipping and biting with his small jaw.
A string was exciting, he started to prance,
In doing so it was much like a dance.
Tiring, after he played, he'd go to my lap
To fall asleep, short like a nap.
The joy that this kitten, did bring
To my life, was a wonderful thing.
Thanks be to God for this happiness,
In this World that is in such a mess.
Be good to each other, is now my plea,
So you enjoy your life, like kitty and me.

You were a silhouette in the Sun.
I didn't know that you were the one,
Or the destiny we were waiting for.
To love, honor and to adore.
The years have passed, too quickly now.
I pledge, again, my troth to thou.

My mind is locked at this time.
I won't weep or become sublime
But will stay to this craft,
Unless, of course, I'm becoming daft.
Always possible in this day and age.
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