Magazine Posts

When the winds blow in, from the sea,
That is the time, I want to be,
Out on the water; the bounding main.
But alas and alack, never again,
Will I return to the sea.

Every time I look
Into a mirror,
I ask myself, what
Are you doing here?
You're blonde hair,
Is white as snow.
You're all dressed up
But no place to go.

Down the step,
Behind the chair,
There is something hidden,
I am unaware.
A small confusion,
Some think is there.
Try not to startle,
Move with care,
Discover the Cat's
Newest lair.
This old cat
Is silent now.
No extra noise,
Just a meow.

I believe my Soul has died
And the remnants are locked inside,
My heart and chest, although I tried
To be the person you wanted.
Now I'm a wreck and broken hearted.
Pure dribble I say to all
You aren't seeing my worst at all.

Of all the things that I see,
There is nothing like a Honey Bee.
A bee that toils for hours and hours,
While flying about to blossoms and flowers.
The packets on his tiny legs,
Accumulates the pollen that he drags,
From flower and blossom, flittering there
And returning to his hive, with great care.
The pollen is transformed into golden honey.
Late in the Fall, it will be sold for money.
The Honey Bee has something to dread
If it stings, it will soon be dead.
For unlike a Hornet or a Wasp
The bee's stinger is barbed and lost
When it stings to protect the hive
And the cost is it's life.

I waited long to buy shoes at this price.
Cordovan in color, leather soles were nice.
I wore them to work and admired my style,
So I walked downtown, about 4 blocks,
Wearing my new shoes and great socks.
It had started to rain and yet
I realized that my socks were getting wet.
In Seattle I worked, I now must expunge
Leather soles; not good as their like a sponge.
Soaking up the water doing their trick,
Making the soles, very, very slick.
Walking on tile with wet soled shoes
Was a proposition, that I would lose.
A simple slip that turns into a fall.
Do you suppose that I could sue the Mall?

It is a big event when you pull the
drivers license of the one you love.
She hasn't driven since 2010.
I did all the driving, way back then.
The lung cancer diagnosis, in two zero one three
and resulting treatment brought her
to her knees.
Cancer free all these years
but was diagnosed with Early onset Dementia
in mid January, 2017.
She is a strong trooper, that is for sure
as I watch her dailytry to endure
all of the garbage of this terrible disease.

Have I lost the touch?
Have I lost the skill
Of writing words,
That rhyme at will?

I liked to cook, when quite young.
Recalling a time, I thought I'd try
To make a most delicious apple pie.
Making the pie crust, water and flour,
Little time, less than an hour.
It was quite easy and not very hard
As I neglected to add any lard.
The apples were peeled, sliced but not cored,
Covered with Cinnamon, Nutmeg and Oh Lord,
Sugar was added, for this great treat.
Put in the oven, cooked and ready to eat.
My Grandmother served, cutting up the pie,
While I was complimented for my first try.
My bite was quite chewy, my word please take
As not adding lard, was a great big mistake.
I realized that a can of Nutmeg, was a bust
But they all ate some pie, with rock hard crust.
I've learned from this long ago year
Sometimes when cooking I'll have a beer.
I still cook and always will try
But seldom will I bake an apple pie.

A very long time before you and I,
Before the look in our Father's eye,
There were people who lived and died
To protect this world from the genocide,
That had risen up from a Nation's floor
And taken lives just like before.
They knew it then. We know it now.
No more killing, that must be our vow.

Give me strength; give me might,
That I don't start writing trite
Observations of what I see,
Especially if it involves you and me.

A bastion of silence,
A room full of noise.
The shrill sounds coming
From little girls and boys.
A gathering of Angels
Or Cherubs, if you will.
A very harmonious sound,
That brings forth a chill.
A high Melodious voice,
The sound, Heaven's choice.
Sounds that help comfort me.
The most relaxing of noise,
You don't need to see.