Magazine Posts

Across the broad Pacific,
the sea was my home.
My great Uncle Sam,
allowed me to roam.

Travelling to islands,
largely, to me, unknown.
My bunk, my sanctuary,
sailing across sea foam.

Awake, in the morning,
dolphins swam alongside,
while flying fish,
came along for the ride.

Some mornings, cheery,
grey whales were near.
The noise, when breaching,
a great sound to hear.

How many adventures,
where there told,
when I went to sea,
at 20 years old,

Stay with me, now,
sweet lady, mine,
it's you I long for,
your voice is divine.

I sit on my bed,
the room is cold.
I write these words,
which never gets old.

Each word, I write,
each breath, I take,
moving to the breach
of a life, I forsake.

I will think often,
of these words I compose.
The more I understand,
your life, as a Rose.

Quit looking for content,
trying to understand me.
I am who I am.
It's who I must be.

Will you still love me,
when the brains in my head
have turned to mush,
still alive but not dead?

I can't sleep.
It's 4 AM.
Tested positive
for Covid.
Hip, Hip, Hooray,
I say. Just what
I needed. I am tired.
I'm concerned about
my wife, down in Memory
Care. I'm such a woos.
Want to be comforted,
by her but know I can't
see her. Life sucks,
sometimes. She did, test
negative. Now to call
those friends I saw the day before
I was diagnosed, so they can get,
tested.

I remember, when I was a young boy.
We had moved to Seattle, during the
"big war" or WWII. My father, God rest
his soul, had taken a job as an electrician,
at Todd's Shipyard, where they were
building, Destroyers (DD's).
I saw the launch of one ship. Don't
recall the name, but the launch was memorable.

After the War, we moved, from the housing
project, at High Point, in West Seattle.
Dad bought a trailer park, just off of Hiway 99.
I went to Showalter. He also built and opened,
an electrical repair/retail store, on 99.

I remember how much I liked to fish. Going by
myself, fishing this stream, rolling down the
hill to green meadows, then into the Duwamish.
The green was the former, Golden Arrow Dairy, which
today has become, South Center Mall.

When the high, winter winds,
brush the treetops, high,
takes me back, as a boy,
when I wanted to fly.

Flying, did happen,
but not on my own,
as I stopped taking lessons,
when we bought our home.

People I know,
are unlike me,
they are patient
and think free.

I was born,
a simple man,
with simple tastes,
living a simple plan.

I have learned,
through years, many,
the finer things,
in life, are plenty.

Do you understand,
as I try to say,
I'll love you always,
until I have gone away.

Dodging bullets,
yes, it's what I did,
my luck is all gone,
tested positive for Covid.

What kind of theory,
what type of dread,
compels me to write,
about words in my head?

I wish I could tell you
but I'm unclear to say,
do I write this dribble,
before I go away?

It's 430 am,
why am I here.
I need to sleep,
as dawning is near.

What happens now,
when the life you've lived,
has left, gone away?
No more memories,
no more scenes
of drama and anger,
when your dreams go away,

"A long, cool woman
in a black dress."
A standard of music,
basic uniform for woman?
Black not an exciting color,
but when worn, by a woman,
it makes my heart race,
even at this late stage,
in life. Not dead, yet.

When I start to write,
in this way, it means my
mind is dry, or empty,
and not producing any
notable words.
Thank you for your patience
and understanding.

What kind of person,
hears his wife's pleas
to be with him,
and walks away.

To take away,
what little desire
she has, borders
on criminality

and yet, here I am,
as she asks me to stay.
Pleading to go with me,
every day.

Before the day is over.
Before the Sun has set,
I will be thinking of you,
with memories, I won't forget.

Do you have time to tomorrow,
to spend some with me
or will you still remember?
I will wait and see.

I loved you when we married,
I still love you today,
even though you don't know me,
You are forever in my memory.