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At last
life's failed.
Pain is
here, close
at hand.
Always near,
too close
at times,
edging near
to Life's
open door
of sadness
and sounds
of prayer.
A loss
of faith
will appear
and yet,
we're gone.
No longer
the life.
A sadness
to end
the day.

From the darkness it crept, steadily,
crawling across a mind's barren plain,
coursing the emotionless range.
Spewing hate, in words now chosen
to disparage all heart felt emotions.
Low were the thoughts, attacking within,
never to be recovered or seen again.

From among the rubble,
rises a cry, why are you
killing our children? Why?
What have they done
to deserve to die?
Please tell me now,
for I'm too sad to cry.

The World cries,
about Ukranian plight,
as freedom dies,
and civilians take flight.

Being cold
is no story,
about any
glory you
might think
is real,
for staying
warm is
the journey,
for which
we hurry,
as we
move back
to the Norm,
Sun and
some showers,
will bring
forth flowers.
A Spring
viewing pleasure,
no matter
the joy.
Truly a
feast for
one's eyes.
Rejoice now,
if you
know how,
to live
life as
you like.

How are you today?
he asked from within.
It became very obvious,
she didn't know him.

Ever forward,
into the breech,
searching for answers,
I must seek,
the cause of
sadness which
causes us
to weep.
An experience
felt by many,
I know,
who may not
understand
material read
as they become
part of the
walking dead.
No imagination,
never a dream
about anything
happening in
the World today.
Seek out
the ignorance
and those
who proclaim,
their innocence,
when they
play the game.
Life is a
a game of
selection
and choice.
If you
are lucky,
you can rejoice,
as long as
you made
the right choice.
Live life
to the fullest,
be happy today,
before an illness
takes love away.

She stood tall,
a sight to see,
dressed in black,
down to her knees.
Her legs were long,
hips narrow and true,
an hourglass figure.
My sight grew dim,
the Raven black hair,
coifed into a bun.
Then I would know,
she must be the one
to help me regain,
missing things in my life,
as she embodied,
everything good
and even more,
when words were written,
about the woman, Lenore.

He was a man
of his own design,
gruff on the outside,
inside he was kind.

Sitting alone
on a shelf,
I remain
ugly, in nature.
It's not the same
for others,
mis-shaped.
No one bothers
looking at me,
for I am
chipped and cracked.
A long way
from new,
not recently cast,
the old pottery
is now my last.
Feel no sorrow,
no more the lame,
once I was wild,
now I am tame.

The raven black hair,
draped over neck and cheek.
Her eyes were blue,
she did not speak.
The smile radiates light
of the vision you seek.
Be cautious of her
she's not for the meek.

When words lay bare,
the truth today,
while others use words,
eroding facts away.
Stay on the course,
so you may
use all the words,
when you pray.
Finding the path,
helping you stay
and see your dreams,
seize the day.