Magazine Posts

Without rancor
without sin,
oh what a mess
you are now in.

Walking along the bank
of a small stream.
Ice crystals have formed
at the edge of the rushing
current. Remarkable
ice with multi-patterns
over rock and soil.
A lonely Crow squawks
up ahead. Unusual as
the Crows are in pairs.
A low hanging fog,
silences the sounds of
of moving water. All is
quiet now. Where are you
Crow?

The thickest fog.
The sound of a dog,
barking in the muted light.
Early morning hours;
others in bed.
The silence eerie.
No echo of noise.
No matter what I
say or do,
my thoughts keep
coming back to you.
You, the one with
sparkling eyes,
were certainly a prize,
for your elegance
of your smile,
will last for another mile.

Oh leave me alone.
Take away my phone.
I will stay more alive
If you let me drive.
No matter who you are,
Please don't take my car.

The height of a persons futility
is trying to argue with stupidity.

Our family has propagated this beautiful flowering plant starting with one cultivated by an ancestor a few generations ago. It is now present in our family homes in three different continents where it is admired for the beauty of its flowers and serves to remind us to be thankful for the family connections it represents.

A perennial plant in the Amaryllis family native to Peru. It can be grown indoors in colder climates. The large white, beautiful and delicate flowers grow in a cluster of three to six on a stem about 15 inches long. Learn more.

A hanging element,
passage to the Stars,
on our adventure,
a trip to Mars.
A lifetime's journey,
for a trip so long.
A lonely memory
enshrined in song.
A golden history
for all to see.
Your sacrifices,
will always be,
one so heroic,
in our modern time,
a historic honor,
so very divine.
What is this?
The rambling text
is life's happening
and what is next.
Time travel will be
that moment in time
when I return to thee.

I remember back to the olden days,
laying on the floor, behind the kitchen stove.
On linoleum, metal, no asbestos
to protect the floor from the
excess heat.
Smells of apple pies, in the wood fired oven.
Those days of so long ago, are gone.
So here we are now, along
with all the good thoughts that
we recall.
Fortunately, for me, it's the good
thoughts that I remember, not the bad,
not the memories that make me sad.
Knowing that we won't
come this way again.

Under the water, beneath the Sea
the blackness is calling; it's calling me.
Return to the place where we came from.
Return to life's creative outcome.
The smell of the Sea, the splash of the waves,
is where I belong, not here in a cave,
for of all the wonders, in this great life,
there's no none as loved as my sweet wife.
My thoughts are a shamble of uncertainty,
for I must go now and return to the Sea.

Tell me why.
Tell me more.
Why is this day
One I abhor?

Words make us who we
are, describe what we do.
Words can be gentle or
unkind and cut your soul in two.
Words spoken in anger
cannot be taken back, no
matter the number of times
sorry is said. Yet words
of kindness, of understanding
and love, have more meaning
for all will be remembered,
ad infinitum.

When the lights go out
and I am alone,
although she 's lying
right next to me.
I say all my prayers
for friends fighting disease
that are on my prayer tree.
I have been doing this
every night since
two thousand one three.
I will continue to do
not just for you
but for all that I can.