Magazine Posts

Emotions,
running hot or cold.
Emotions,
new and old.

My emotions mired,
in an ugly mess.
My physical condition,
is under stress.

Innermost, the corners
of my mind,
Lie deep emotions,
which I'll find.

Loss of love,
at deepest point,
surpassing grief,
do not anoint.

An old fool, in action,
is a sight to see,
for his emotional response,
is like torching a tree.

I am an old fool.
I know I am,
but in my view of me,
I'm still a young man.

I seek not the people,
near me, for they are old.
I'm not attracted physically,
my feeling is cold.

I don't believe I'm better,
I hope you see,
for what I seek,
is certainly not thee.

Whirling winds,
racing through Willows.
The end of Winter, a
prelude to Spring.
Flowers will bloom,
wrens will sing.

My mind will heal,
what my heart cannot see,
using those memories,
of what used to be.

Memories of happiness,
memories of we,
when we loved others,
and when I loved thee.

Why do the memories,
so precious to we,
vanish this quickly,
fading into infinity?

God, how I wish,
I could go to see,
when happiness was measured,
by my love for thee.

He was young, awkward, shy and retiring.
Staying in the background, avoiding others,
as he tried to navigate in the shadows,
which his shyness had provided.
An introvert, he was. Hesitant to talk or
ask questions, as he questioned his own
knowledge. A lack of confidence.
Now many years have passed. He is no longer,
bashful or shy and is at ease, when talking with
others, friends or strangers.
It may take months, or years of change, in your
environment, to modify behavior.
Life can be good or you can be misunderstood.
Live life to the fullest.

The worm turned,
its ugly head,
toward me and
then he said,

"Hey white boy,
what did you say,
you think you can quit
and run away,

from your past,
in this life's game?"
Hiding again,
when you forgot your name.

Where do you,
think you are?
A stupid man,
who's gone too far.

Running Hard.
Running fast.
Running tired,
Just won't last.

Your creaky slow,
when you start,
then you warm up
and play your part.

Much like life,
in any age,
do another task,
turn the page.

Long lay the flowers,
stems turning black.
Once a lovely bouquet,
now the healthy look they lack.

What happened here?
Why are the still in the vase?
From eternal beauty,
to a dried, ugly face.

There are always stains,
in every place we dwell,
for these the road to perdition
has become a living hell.

My fear has been realized.

We hear the bells ringing,
the essence of hearing the knell.
Across this land of Crafty
Wizards, casting and leaving a spell.

A love of make believe,
or it could be true.
Depends on your imagination,
or upon how you will view.

I'm lost in my mind,
an unthinkable thing,
for knowing the sadness,
and what it will bring.

Think not of others,
before you sing,
for the more power,
the sadness, will bring.