Magazine Posts

The thoughts and memories,
which lay with in this aged mind,
have deteriorated to the point,
my mind, is a wasteland, too unkind,

when memories, once in your mind,
disappear for any reason,
it becomes a trying experience,
perhaps, the mind should have a season.

Unfortunately, that isn't the way it works.
A Spring for rediscovery new ideas and
recurring beauty would be great.
Unfortunately, my mind is a desert of sand.

When we sit,
unmoving, it is
when the depths
of depression, may
start over again.

It's the wee hours of the morning,
when I hear the scratch of pen,
on my paper notebook.
It was early but day has began.

What other reason,
can there be, in this life,
then wanting to be happy,
while diminishing our strife?

I write. I pray,
for just one more time,
from what was lost,
is returned. It's mine.

Losing one's mind,
not hard to do.
Finding it again,
hard work for you.

Check the hidden spots,
in your head.
Look for sorrow,
helplessness is dead.

Will you love me tomorrow,
the same as yesterday
or will you leave in the night,
while running away?

When I write about love,
I will write about you,
all the things you are
and all the things you do.

My thoughts of you,
are so bittersweet.
I hope in this next life,
we live, we will meet.

Along this path,
to certain oblivion,
when emotions run high,
with no solution.

What will the outcome be,
if we fail to take action,
when dealing with the great
unwashed faction?

I awake and hear,
noises, realizing I'm at,
the Oregon Coast,
and remember the sand.

I dress quickly, putting on running gear,
although the closest I'll get to running,
is when I turn on the faucet.

I leave my room, it's only a few yards,
to the sandy beach. The fresh smell
of the ocean attacks my nose.
A light wind, in my face, now I'm back
to a favorite spot, the beach. I'm Home.

A stranger,
entered the room,
sullen looking,
impending doom?

Too many worries,
were on his mind.
He's looking for love,
his life had been unkind.

Do you believe,
you might do the same,
when your first love,
has forgotten your name?

Sad news. Sadness,
reigns supreme.
Please let me awake,
from this very bad dream.

Along time ago,
in a faraway land,
lived a human shell,
who once was a man.

The man,
a hunter by skills,
would peruse the villages,
and nearby foothills.

His search for redaction,
would make him try,
was to find a place,
where a Dragon would cry.

The tears of a Dragon,
when said and done,
were more special,
than liquid Sun.

He searched over and over,
oh, for so many years,
for he needed salvation,
using the Dragon tears.

Tears of a Dragon,
are magical to see,
for you will be happy,
unlike the loneliest He.

Memories, of early days,
early morning on the Tolt.
by Carnation.

What a day it was
back when we were young.
Trying to make a living,
every day in the Sun.

Do you remember when
we made a dollar a day?
My first job was pulling
weeds, $.10 an hour.

A year later working on
a stationery hay baler,
I made up to $35. a day,
if we were baling Alfalfa.

Good memories of long
ago times, when you worked
hard for one thin dime.
Tell me your story, please.