Magazine Posts

After the Rose
has lost its bloom,
after the Sun
breaks the gloom,
it will be the
time to say,
things didn't
always go my way.

Oh, what a drag,
to be where you are.
No driver's license,
and without a car.
Yet you want to drive,
recalling the time
you drove everywhere
and the trips were sublime.

What has happened,
to our place in life?
You are my companion,
and my lovely wife.
The joy I saw,
was it yesterday?
is no longer there
and has gone away.
Your words are incoherent,
even to me,
as you try to relate,
our Life's story,
our family history.

I hear the wind, in the trees,
as rain falls, in spiral sheets,
pattering against the windowpane.
It is a strange sound
a different noise,
like the ratatat tat,
the sound of toys.
The wind driven rain,
attacks the side of the house.
I pull up the blanket
to cover my ears,
as the warmth of my wife,
lying next to me, eases my fears.
The noise doesn't wake her
so, I think to myself
I'm lucky to be here
and not alone.
I wrote this over a year
ago, not realizing I will
soon have to let go
and sleep alone.

I'm in the U.S. Navy.
A Petty Officer, 3.
I am the Postal Clerk,
on board our ship.
I sell money orders,
on our payday.
I also, go on daily
runs, when we are
in port, not at sea.
Guard mail runs,
with our Ensign,
require me to be
several paces behind
him. I am armed
with a .45 caliber,
Colt Automatic,
which is holstered,
on my right hip.
I am 20 years old.
It is very cool,
to go on a trip
to the Fleet Post Office
or FPO, to pick up
US Mail for my shipmates,
while the Ensign receives
Guard Mail, which instructs
our Captain on our Ships
next journey.

Come for a visit.
Bring your great smile,
the sound of your voice,
I haven't heard for awhile.

Long ago,
when a boy,
my grandfather,
had his own toy.
A device, with a wheel,
which looked like a tricycle.
It had a seat and pedals,
like a bicycle.
You pumped the pedals,
but never went anywhere,
for the wheel was stone.
It was used to sharpen
tools, and give knives a hone.
A small container of water,
hanging above the wheel,
dripped on the stone and
provided a fine edge to
the knives with this
very large whetstone.
Ah, memories, so important
to whom we are today.

Bronze, the bodies,
bronzed through and through.
Laying in Kauai sand,
nothing else to do.

Later we'll have Pupus,
at Old Koloa Town, Top Cat,
with Mai Tais and beer,
done where we're at.

Why am I so angry?
Why am I upset?
What has upset me,
which I won't forget?

It's a crazy time,
this life of ours,
she says she love me,
for many hours.

I believe it true,
no matter what's said
for I hear her soft voice,
which is in my head.

I am loved,
but lonely am I,
for conversations,
more than one side.
Talking to oneself,
will never be
as fulfilling as
talking to thee.

An introvert,
at an early age,
bolder he was
at life's later stage.
Confident was he,
more like a Sage.
To read more
find a new page.

Against the wind,
a song by Bob Segar.
Dealing with changes
as we mature.
In many ways, I feel
I am going "Against
the Wind" as I travail
the battle of dealing
with my wife's Dementia
Alzheimer disease.
Once a beautiful person,
with quick wit, personality
and very intelligent.
She now has difficulty in
conversations, as she attempts
to communicate with me.
No short-term memory.
Long term memory, for
the most part is not there.
She does not know the
name of any articles, from
cup to remote. Does not
know where the bathroom is,
let alone what to do. Yet,
she will tell me how much
she loves me and how she
needs to be near me, all
of the time.
What a lonely existence it
must be where she is, today.
She calls me her husband,
Daddy or her man, but does
not know my name.
I'm ok with that as the love
she professes is soothing to me.
I have been living with her
in a Memory Care facility
and am about to move out,
so, I can get some sleep.
What will that do to her?
I don't know but I know
I need sleep if I am to be
with her.