Magazine Posts

Walking the streets, in this new town,
I could hear the noise; feel the sound.
The music erupted, both near and far,
the rhythmic sound of an acoustic guitar,
sounds of brass, coronets, trumpet and trombone;
a mixture of notes. I am no longer alone.

Tell me,
please tell me,
are there words
in a jar,
which can be
used by others,
no matter where
they will be.
I need to know,
for if I do not,
my creative words,
will be sought;
Pulled from a corner,
of a dusty, old brain,
covered with cobwebs,
needing to train,
for a new beginning,
of life as it is,
not for a secret,
which can not be hid.
Run off to the desert,
abandon your fame,
be selfish now,
with no one to blame,
except every one else.
You're still one and the same.

A wall of stone,
lay before me,
covered with moss
and the shade of a tree.
A very, large Maple,
with huge spreading roots,
which lifts the stone.
Your wall will crumble,
if you leave the roots alone.
Life can be like,
a wall of moss covered stone,
as the challenges of severe health,
leave you standing alone.
It's hard to live, a life sheltered,
when in a lonely place,
for my only desire,
is to recall your face.
I've lost you to Dementia,
such a terrible disease,
robbing you of your memory,
without saying please.

I'm having trouble,
my mind is a mess,
for I have thoughts,
I now must confess,
of moving away,
as far as I can.
I now feel like
a failed old man.

Oh yes, I am,
a lost ship
without a rudder,
not in command.
I move in circles,
no destination
in play,
as every moment,
brings my emotions,
out to the ledge.
I'm walking now,
the fine edge
of my sanity,
for like a Judas,
I will soon betray thee.
I try hard
to bear not the guilt.
My life's goal
has started
to fade,
as I realize
the mistake
will become
a World without
you by my side.

When I was younger,
I would work on my car,
at my parent's house,
in the side yard.
I would borrow tools,
from my Dad's shop
and would return
them to the tool box.
Many years have passed by,
when I went home again.
Seeing my repair site
as I walked around,
I discovered a tool,
laying on the ground.
A 10 inch Crescent wrench,
once lost, now found.

Why can't
I stay here
with you?
Why must I,
soon bid you adieu?
Our life together
this many years,
will be over,
I can't pretend,
for a soul once broken
is most difficult to mend.

I need to remember
and write of a happier time,
where I write down words,
which will always rhyme.

Tell me your wishes,
beautiful granddaughter of mine
and I will provide riches,
so you can enjoy,
a freedom of living,
in a place which you love,
amongst all your family
and those who you love.

I care about you
and these past several months.
We haven't met yet, I see.
There are many likes on a days
writings. It's ok with me,
but my EGO may disagree.
If you like what I write,
or if you don't, your opinion
matters to me.
Comment if you can
or if you don't,
my World won't end,
no matter the words,
for this is my craft,
crude as it is.
No Poet Laureate in my jeans,
certainly not in my past,
but writing for you,
has been a supreme blast.
Thank you my friends.
Thanks to you all.
Be not afraid in this life,
please continue to stand tall.

You are the one.
There is no doubt.
My voice may whisper;
for you I shout.

I went to bed
and I slept.
I thought of you
and I wept.
I failed you
promise not kept.
Sorry.