Magazine Posts

After the great World War, WW II
My Dad bought a tavern
On 45th Ave, close to the U.
The name I recall, from the past
Was the Looking Glass.
A small little place
For as you walked in the door,
The bar was on the left
And booths on the right.
It wasn't unusual
For the Veterans to fight.
I would go with my Dad
After church, on Sunday morn
And sit at the bar
As Dad worked. I drank a coke
And could smell the sour spilled beer.
Vivid memories, do my mind clog,
I ate a pickled Polish Dog.
Years have passed
And the Tavern is still there,
With a different name.
Stopped in one time on our way
From a Soccer match at Lower Woodland.
Same place, Walk in the door
Bar on the left and booths on the right.
Had a small beer, but skipped the dog
A great memory for that night.

A heavy frost is what I see
As the sprouting plants ask for amnesty.
Shrub and lawns all white as can be
That Spring is still away from me.

There is beauty and grace, that I see,
If only you would talk to me.
Small words come, so painfully,
My love, I share with thee.

Wind is blowing
yard art bells ringing
melodious sound

Slimy Slug
eating primroses
Sated

What else is there to see?
Where else? It came to me,
To be aware of your plight,
Yet falling asleep at darkest night.

Fire Burning bright
through the evening light
white ash falling

From whence came I, she said to me,
As I awoke from my reverie?
A lost soul is who you are,
Added a voice, across the bar,
You arrived by bus, not by car.
A spirit in the wind, is what I see,
So leave or stay, but let us be
And I returned to my reverie.

Days have come and days have gone.
The days, so bright, with coming dawn
And then, while the days went by,
We questioned answers and asked why,
Those that we loved, who went away,
Never returning at the end of day.
Leave me not
With pain so great
Life goes on although we now do pray.

The Frost is back
With grass all white.
It's still dark
Not yet the light.
The bulbs of daffodils
Have pushed up
Through the soil.
Today is to be,
Sunny, as we toil.

The fog drapes the leafless trees,
Softening the barren branches and to seize
Control over the skeletal silhouette
Transforming to a vision and yet,
Sight of the fog covered plants does please.

Rabbit where are you
clumps of fur on the ground
Coyote