Magazine Posts

The words that came before,
are lying useless, on the floor.
Words, bouncing within my head,
for practical purposes, now are dead.
It's the price, one has to pay,
when words, treated with such dismay.
Too late the key, too late the lock,
I do believe, I have Writers block.

Into the darkness, I'll go with thee.
Hold my hand and you will see.
I will be with you for eternity.

May the great Lord in heaven,
watching us all, from up above,
bestow upon all his children,
the greatness of his eternal love.

No clouds in sight,
the Moon shining bright,
makes a beautiful sight,
on this crystal clear night.

Wasn't It Grand?

Sturdy Perennials resisting the Frost

Watch all the stars, fade away,
with the start of a new day.

Be the candle,
not the flame.
Don't let others
pass the blame
to the press,
who must remain
outside the lies
and to explain,
what is happening
to our Nation,
surely must be
an aberration.

Is this what our nation
will come to be?
Home of the brave,
land of the free,
except, if you don't
look just like me.

Here I am, sitting,
with all these words
in my tired head,
when I really should
be back in bed.
"What's so compelling?"
Someone once, asked of me.
To write down
these words, so completely,
before they become
a piece of your
imagined vision,
that was written clumsily,
without the precision,
of being a completely,
sloppy rendition
of words, all plastered
together with rapid
hands and fingers,
with no errors
that will linger.

Thank you for being here with me,
For staying home, to keep me company.
I worry for you, every single day,
As I watch you, slowly, slip away.

The dawning of another day is here.
The hurts of yesterday are still near.