Magazine Posts

You are my light.
You are my soul.
You are my dream.
You make me whole.

He writes too much,
has been said before,
by many of his critics,
liking the old writings more.
I apologize to you, if by chance,
you were unpleasantly surprised
by this new, crazy dance.

When love of another
shakes up your reasoning,
all you think about is your emotions.
When the love is for your wife,
of many years, who no longer
remembers you specifically
but knows you are the one
contact she has daily and
professes her love to you,
moment after moment.
There isn't any rationalization
which will satisfy this loss.
I placed my trust in God,
for a happy outcome after
she made it through lung cancer.
In remission now but I have
lost my faith in God with the
insidiousness of Dementia.

Love a word,
4 simple letters,
With so many
Complicated results.

I like you,
It's easy to say,
But if I say it,
You'll run away.

Sit I, here
pen in hand
at 2:30 A.M.
Been awake
for an hour.
Why can't
I sleep?
A question,
haunts me,
then I recall
my grandfather
telling me
he lived
on under
4 hours
of sleep,
when he
was my age.
Didn't know
it was
hereditary.

A silence, whispers
past the corners of my mind,
covering my being with
an unprofessed love.
Nurturing Sun casting shadows,
bringing breath of life.
I lay awake, alongside my wife,
marveling at the fine lines
which gently, so gently
compliment the smoothness
of skin covering her cheeks.
Brown eyes closed, as she sleeps.
I want to talk with you,
as we did many years ago,
but know it will never be
the same. Never again,
will we share memories,
only mine, alone, as I
am mired in this existence.

Barren the ground
swept by the wind,
moss covered rocks,
wet with the dew.
Barren the branches,
naked to view,
while I sit alone
waiting for you.

It's 3:30 am,
I've been up an hour.
I cannot sleep,
my mood is dower.
Our children say
it's best for me,
and for their mother
at a place for her memory.

Do I know you my friend?
Have I been here before?
Were we ever lovers,
or a friendship, no more?

Come to me, sweet visions,
in the still of the night.
I seek forgiveness to
restore my lost sight.
No matter the reason,
I ask you to ignore my plight.

I started high school at O'Dea
in Seattle. An all-boys, Catholic
school. My parents, decided to
move back to their hometown,
it was mine also as I was born
there.
My new high school, was in the
town of Thorp, 9 miles West of
Ellensburg. Same school my dad
attended.
I liked the school and my friends.
I was the class President in my early
year and later became the student
body President, when I was a Senior.
I was popular then, but must admit
the total high school enrollment was
approximately 40 and our class
was 14. I gained many friends there,
but now many of the males are gone,
no longer with us.
The times I recall were glorious,
adventurous times.
How I miss those uncomplicated days.