Magazine Posts

These words that I write; they are many,
flow to the paper notebook, on my lap,
not into a computer, which would be easy.
I hand scratch, with a Pilot G-2 roller.
A wonderful pen to have in hand
that will respond, on demand.

Cold rain is falling
on dead leaves of this Fall
moistening the ground.

A moonless night.
No clouds in sight.
A darkened road,
No cars, no light.
Returning from
A lit up bar.
Walking down
The road so black,
Towards our ship,
Tied up at the Naval Base
in Guam, U.S. Territory.

Words that began flowing,
towards paper, using a pen,
are words all unspoken,
just heard in my head.

I write these thoughts, unthinking
and free of fear of any failing,
when I tell my thoughts to thee.
Where am I now? What's next to do,
but to shelter and protect all of you.

A risk well studied,
is worth the effort
and investment.

I am dwelling now,
on friends we had.
The joy and fun,
not being sad.
Many of the friends
of so long ago,
are gone now and so
the memories we have
of happy days, gone by
and the missing friends,
I want to cry.
Where are you now?
Where did you go?
I miss all of you.
The laughter at our jokes,
has gone away
and is only there
in our memory foray.

Relight your life.
Brighten your day.
Do what you must.
Keep shadows at bay.

I am saddened, on this day,
for an old friend, has gone away.
Gone away because some new disease,
that can't be treated, not with ease.
When your Doctors suggest that you
call in Hospice, so they can review
the needs of your body's care.
To recommend and make you aware
of the end of this life and need of repair.
I am saddened to relate that today
Our friends heart gave out, he passed away.
Long rest, my friend of many a year
It won't be long for I am near
and will see you soon, at life's end
for you were a great, caring friend.

I hear the sound
I know so well.
It is the sound
of a lonely bell.
A knell heard on this night
drives from my soul the fright
for here alone am I.
If I were to say
"please stay with me,
don't go away?"
Would you have a choice?

Well here we are
alone at last.
Time to discuss
all of our past.

Going down a trail,
when I was young.
A trial of mud slick
ruts, on which to run
astride a Honda Trail 55.
No helmet required
for the ride. Wet clay
and mud on that day,
a good thing to stay away.
When tires are narrow
they'll slip and slide
which provides a
sloppy, scary ride.
Down the hill, did I go,
slipping and sliding,
oh what a show.
Safe at last at the
muddy bottom
on this fine day
one early Idaho Autumn.

Away all boats, that was the call.
Away all boats to the far Atoll.
This wasn't a war but that command,
was in my mind when approaching glistening sand.
Our ship was anchored in a Tropical Lagoon
and Liberty Call would be announced soon.
Liberty for us, on this Tropical Isle,
would be to walk about, for a long while;
to observe and to help where we could
and to make sure that we understood,
that those we met were simple but good.
A brief glimpse, from my aged mind,
of an adventure, that will often remind
the differences, we can now see,
between the Races, more different than we.