Magazine Posts

I dream of golden flowers,
marked with summer rays,
mottled with the shadows,
from trees in one array.

Why must we wait,
until the spring has sprung,
when we could still have flowers,
of Primrose, and Hyacinths, young?

A reprint of a writing in 11/19/2020
I hope this will prompt me to write
more of beautiful things and less
of sadness. For viewing. Thank you

My emotions,
rage against me.
I will not pretend,
yet here I be.

Happiness and contentment,
I had many years.
Those feelings aren't present,
and these are my fears.

Forlorn is a condition,
I'm feeling right now.
Wanting to talk with someone,
but not knowing how.

I hesitate to show
interest in someone,
I do not wish to promote,
a false promise to anyone.

An emotional ride,
elation to bust.
Why must I hide,
emotions I trust.

I am a man,
who falls in love,
at the merest affection,
or attraction, above.

I'm not a child,
but a grown man,
with many emotions,
hard to understand.

Is it wrong,
to still love someone,
when you find
another one?

One more loss,
with little gain.
Return to sadness,
hard to explain.

To gain a friend,
who goes away,
is more complex,
than another day.

Time flies at this time.
More than normal,
which in of itself is
casual not formal.

It's over,
it's done.
I'll move along,
I'm toast. I'm one.

Let me be.
Leave me alone.
If I need you,
I will phone.

What is this attraction,
which follows me?
It's nothing important,
as I can't see.

I've been a widower,
for about 6 weeks.
I'm not ready, as
I do not seek,

a relationship now,
especially when the knell,
of a bell will put me
in relationship Hell.

There is a Vortex,
in my head.
Swirling thoughts,
trying to imbed,

into the chambers
of my mind.
Good or bad thoughts,
might I find,

If I search here
or there,
finding thoughts.
Hope I care.

Off to the market,
to buy a new horse.
What are you doing?
Buying a horse, of course.

What kind of horse,
are you wishing to buy?
I don't know but I
do want to try.

Do you want a gelding,
or a young mare?
I am unsure of the need,
is this "Buyer Beware?"

Of course, it is,
young master, mine.
why else would you ask,
for intervention divine?

Red were the roses,
she used to sell.
White was the color,
she wore so well.

Brown was the color,
of crypt, profound.
Green was the color,
of the grass covered ground.

Blue was the color,
of her beautiful eyes.
Black will be the color,
when she dies.

Crawling from the ground,
at night.
Staying there until dawns
early light.

Night crawlers, what
they are,
feeding at night, under moon
and star.