Public Posts

A single flower grows
among the sidewalks crack.
A reminder of the joy
or hardship of our life.

We have met before,
both you and I,
in another lifetime,
where I wondered why,
the end of a life
would provide a new try,
to be with each other,
after saying our goodby.
Long did we live,
at that uncertain time,
a reincarnation was done
now our life is sublime.

Come sit with me
in the place you dwell,
down in the hollow,
across the green Dell.
I'll tell you the stories,
who no one will tell,
about folks in the hollow,
across the green Dell.
A young person, was seen,
either a girl or a boy,
who played in the grass,
all green, browns and gold,
who drank from the spring,
so he would never get old.
You do not believe it, I see,
but the young boy I described,
that young boy was me.

When you say, you love people
but not the complications
relationships bring. What does
that mean?
I wish I knew the answer,
to the eternal question,
When does friendship end?
Or does it? When does love
begin? Or is it just an extension
of friendship?

Go you now,
of little faith,
for your loss,
yet to come.
Casting your lot
with those today,
who will not,
let you walk
away or stay,
until golden light
appears once more,
at your doorstep.
Just be sure
your love will
be, solid gold,
no matter when
your soul is gone.

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.