Magazine Posts

A misty spray.
A plethora of hurt,
at evening tide,
in the sandy dirt.

Feeling raw, sore
as can be.
Why in the World,
does she argue with me?

She gets mad and
her searing is free.
She'll forget in a minute.
while it still stays with me.

I met a friend
for coffee, a social date.
She arrived early
and I was just late.

We hadn't met for awhile
and it was great,
to see her fresh smile.
I will now relate.

We have been friends
for many long years.
She listens to me,
while I talk of my fears.

How do you explain,
your feelings to she,
for all of the support
she has given to me?

Torn is the night,
a dark shredded screen,
lost is a love,
somewhere between.
No longer a choice;
Do not have to choose,
no matter the decision,
someone will lose.

I am saddened,
beyond despair.
You no longer
have your memory.
Your chatter of words,
of random thoughts,
questions repeated,
over and over again.
No correlation of when
events have occurred.
Wandering of thoughts,
bordering on being absurd.

Give me some help.
Give me a chance,
to rekindle,
my oldest romance.

I see the vision
locked in your eyes,
of awe and excitement,
when you are surprised.
Along the deep water,
I hear Nature's sighs.
It is then I notice
the lost love in your eyes.
Perhaps, if I can pretend,
I will see you once more,
You'll still be my friend.

I will not chase thee,
It's no longer a game,
for life is too real.
You know not my name.

I was 14 years old,
on my first cattle drive,
riding a horse,
who performed better than I,
on this lifetime adventure,
during my early life.
The Quarter horse,
knew how to herd.
I was along for the ride,
as the cattle were driven
down to Dry Creek,
the name of the area,
near Ellensburg.

I keep hearing these words,
spoken to me,
"I want to go home
and go away.
I'll find someone else,
who will take care of me.
"My parents are gone,
they're no longer here"
she will repeat the words,
over again, when she
becomes frustrated with me.

I am an emotional mess.
My mind is in pain.
The sorrow I feel,
is hard to explain.
We have been married
over 64 years,
but soon will be
separated and tears
will leak from eyes,
wet with the dew,
thinking about us.
Thinking about you.

A Grouse,
an Old Speckled Hen,
were drinks of choice
way back when.
We would go have
a drink at the
local watering hole.
The Grouse was Famous,
a nice, blended Scotch.
The Hen was English
beer. A nice tasting brew.
We would watch
soccer matches, having a few.

It's a quarter past 4,
what should I do?
Get up now?
Go enter some words?
Write from the heart,
avoid being absurd.
Talk about the past
and your love of life.
For all the stories,
stuck in your head,
unless they're in writing,
so they can be read.