Magazine Posts

I write the words that come to me.
They cost nothing; for you they're free.
My desire, to bring your interest a voice,
For if I do I will soon rejoice.
Rejoice with you my reader friends
And wait for me to make amends.

My Mother would often say, did she,
"You will be the death of me."
I challenged as a boy when doing chores
I loved my Mother, as you should love yours.

I write of sadness, my current style.
I will write for joy in a little while.
I hope and pray that all of you
Will like the writings that I do
Even if I say, please Vote Blue.

I am with you
night and day,
for you're the reason
and why I stay.
You may not recall
our past life,
but it's OK
for your my wife.
What are the memories
but a glimpse of the past
and the way we
remember our history
together, as years
passed. I see
you, as you slowly
slip silently away.
There is little I can do,
but I will say,
"Stay with me too,
for as long as you can,
for when you leave
I will be lonely again."
That is a selfish
reason for me
when your going away
will sadness be.

Yesterday I was taking a shower
when the words came with power.
The trick then for me,
is to keep repeating the
words, incessantly,
lest I forget, the words so far,
before my memory
can't remember what they are.

These words, I write for you today,
are here now but will go away.
I pray that all readers will understand
what kind of person and not remand.
My words I write, come from me,
if you like them or agree to disagree.

The words I write,
are roughly shod,
makes me feel
like an ugly clod.
Hard as a rock
until put in the water,
with new resolve
to share to the reader,
all of my love, I owe to you
for you inspire me
in the writings I do.

I fear not death,
which is hovering near,
but I fear the loss
of those I hold dear.

All the words that I write.
All the words that you see.
Why do they come from
A person like me?
I wish I knew, what to say
But my thoughts have gone
Another way.

I know I've lost you when
I'm repeating my word to you,
Over, over and over again.

I have written about my beloved's
loss of memory,
when I should be writing about
my slow descent into insanity.
I believe my mind was sane before
but now lies in shambles
across the emptiness within.
A rational thought. An elusive one
has broken away and has begun
to pause, before it takes the plunge
into a morass of words,
expressed by me into a
malady of hurt, only I can say,
what is this mess in this brain of mine,
where love not hate does entwine.
The insanity of life on this day
is here now and here it will stay.

Where do you go,
when you're with me?
A sadness is here
and then I see,
you no longer remember we.
I talk of what and how,
we lived our good life
and you reply to me,
"I don't remember or recall,
those parts of our history."
You ask me questions;
"Did you know my Dad?"
I answer you by
saying, "Yes, he was a nice man."
The pain I feel is for thee
and of this life's uncertainty,
for my love for you is
still running strong,
as I wrestle with,
where do you belong.
At what point in
this life sublime,
do I say to you,
"Now is the time/"