Magazine Posts

A cabin in a meadow,
deep in the wood.
The peace and quiet,
makes me feel good.
To rise in the morning,
with you by my side,
enhances this strange
life; a most loving pride.

When I write out my words,
do you see me as daft?
I work hard, when I write,
to hone and sharpen my craft.

What in the World should I do?
Thinking of someone; It was you.
Something happened, it was absurd,
as you were talking, I heard a word.
A word I haven't heard in this time,
came from the past of mine.
I knew it was you, from my past.
A word long forgotten; It was last
from a person, loved long ago,
in another lifetime, that's all I know.

The edge of darkness, lies in my head,
a spot of insanity, is in my brain.
There is no pain, there is no dread
for the sanity, I had will still remain.
The good thoughts of love, are now dead.
Why, tell me why, do these thoughts remain.
I asked for help and nobody came.

A loss of love.
The loss of a child.
A mental grief, hurtful,
with very much pain.
The feeling of loss;
explain it, I can't,
for there is no joy
and there never will be,
someone as dear as you.
Hear I am alone again.

Where are you now?
Have you left me again?
Has your mind slipped away?
Should I just pretend,
to know what you think,
when there isn't anything there?
I wish I knew the answer,
I most certainly do,
for I miss the person,
who I am married to.

There are many words stuck in my head.
So many words, yet to be said.
Why must they be locked deep inside?
Are these words, which I should hide?
The answers will come, only from me.
Should I write or let them be?
A simple question, one I should trust
before this mind has turned into dust.

Act normal.
What does it mean?
I have emotions.
I'm not a machine.
I can't turn off
my feelings or dreams,
for I am who I am,
as my heart beams
for those I love.
It's not what it seems.

Where are these dreaded words
coming from, as my hands write free?
Are these the thoughts, in my head
or mind, as I watch them flee.
Must I admit or just relent
from these words which come from me?
It's time to let go of this life,
leavingthe sadness to all of thee.

I am not a genius,
of this I am aware.
I'm just filling space
as I sit upon my chair.

I apologize for writing
about my love or disdain.
For writing of words,
relieves not the fear or pain,
so I will write words to you,
for this is my way, it's what I do.

I have so many flaws,
I won't name them for you,
for my flaws can be more
or they may be a few.
Depends on who you talk to
or these flaws you see,
our mine; I know not of thee.