Magazine Posts

Deep within
this mind,
memories lay,
in piles
of rubbled
filled dismay.
A mixture
of new
and older
thoughts exist,
in transition,
to permanent
thinking of
the experience
of love
lost within.
The memories
call again,
capture them,
you can.
Restoring all
you forgot
or ideas
you once
held dear,
are gone
and disappeared.

The dust spills
from your mouth,
once more.
Dried up thoughts,
to tissue dull.
Words, once crisp,
are unfirm now,
too soft for
what I write.

Come to me,
my table is bare.
I need you now.
Weren't you aware?

Should I write?
Should I bring,
the many words,
we may sing?

Breaking loose from restraints,
in an attempt to find space,
to create a subject line,
for writing, paint and erase.

Why am I burdened so,
when my life's gone astray?
Different worries, come to me.
Is writing work or is it play?

Acid etched words
remain in my head,
waiting and waiting,
to be shed.
To tell stories
of who we are.
Some very lonely
survivors of an
old ancient star.

The first Taco
I ever ate,
was from a street vendor,
in Tiajuana Town.
My Navy friends,
young at 20 years old,
drove to Mexico,
to drink beer
at local cantinas.
We would stop at
the Taco stands
and eat the wonderful
tasting food.
Hard shell tortilla,
filled with some kind
of meat, tomatoes, and cheese
and lettuce. A tasty treat.
So great the joy,
a new food,
for a 20-year-old boy.

One step is a journey.
A journey too far,
when you cannot walk
and you don't have a car.

Your first christmas,
no mother to be,
gathered with family,
around the tree.
No idle chatter,
voices won't sing,
embraces now gone.
Soft words spoken,
remembrance, now lost,
missing your mother,
not here today.
With your father,
this heavenly day.

My loves sanity
struggled last night.
She is not a crier
but tears clogged her sight.
She couldn't explain
what was happening to she.
The fear in her eyes,
filled with much uncertainty.

I love the reflection
of moonlight in your eyes.
A dazzling sight,
cannot be disguised.

May I impose my thoughts
upon the rising Sun,
as my life, I know,
has gone from me?
"Remain you strong"
are the words I hear.
I see a picture of my bride,
she now has others who help
her fight for the part of life,
her lost memory.

Have you ever walked in the rain,
with your clothes all soaked, once again?
The wetness of wool, can keep you warm,
unless it irritates your skin, causing harm.