Magazine Posts

Lonely is the night,
when I think of you.
your no longer here,
what am I supposed to do.

You were my rock,
my inner soul.
You gave me love,
you gave me your all.

A sadness overwhelms,
most waking moment.
I pray to God
to hear my lament.

I feel so alone,
right now.
I need someone to talk to,
but how.

Life's mystery after the loss of a
loved one.
Who do I reach out to,
no one.

No one to care,
for me.
She is gone and I am
in misery.

Dragging my blanket,
I see,
the sad tale of woe,
is me.

Of trolls and ogres,
who live in the dark,
dare I go alone,
to play in the park?

Shadows move,
branches will sway,
wind blowing,
there I'll stay.

Never, will I
again, in life,
will I be whole.
I miss my wife.

Crazed words spill,
from out the brain,
as thoughts of you,
still remain.

I still struggle,
when thinking of you.
These sad thoughts,
will never do.

I will remember
and recall,
all our images from,
the memory wall.

Please, my love,
will you bear with me.
I'm trying to change,
and let life be.

I miss you more,
every waking day.
Wishing you were here,
and hadn't gone away.

Our 67th anniversary
is today, June 7, 1957.
It would have been a
joyful event, but my
beautiful bride passed
away, December 24, 2023.

It's with this in mind is why
I only publish the one event,
which reminds me of the love
we had even when I messed up.
Thank you.

Crafting words is a
skill that at times is
missing. Sometimes,
a person gets lucky.

My heart aches,
trying to break.
How much more grief,
must this old man take?

Someone to lean on,
for all those years,
now just confusion,
of loss and tears.

Sad is life,
when fate steps in,
creating a deep sorrow,
as my eyes grow dim.

Give it a shot,
is what was said,
as I moved forward,
with hope, no dread.

First time to try,
being on my own.
To live by myself,
a Widower, I'm now known.

Rambling babble,
of a crazed mind,
when thoughts were sad,
but not unkind.

Sorting out,
chaff from the straw,
now struck,
by one big flaw.

Feeling guilty,
now and again.
Woe is me,
"Play it again, Sam."

Why can't I,
handle this grief?
I feel my heart,
taken by a "Death thief."

Who do I turn to,
what difference will it make,
if I don't have you,
for God's sake?

This writing discussed when I was
a 20 year old US Navy member.
We visited this Island for some R&R,
or rest and relaxation while dropping off
medical supplies. 1954 or 1956.
Enjoy.

My feelings, about writing,
starting to become a big bore.
I don't know if,
I can write anymore.

Writing has helped me,
me navigate my loss, before.
The truth is, I don't know,
if I want to write anymore.