Magazine Posts

Winter's mantle,
frozen crystal,
icy twigs,
encrusted grass.
Leaves, lying
beneath skeletal
trees, flaunting
their nakedness.
Starry diamonds
reflecting light
from a frozen pond.

If you were not of this world,
I would worship you.
You are the star that guides me
through lonely day and night.
You are the light that turns
the dark into bright.
You are inspiration in my quest above.
You are my everything,
you are my love.

Take my hand and lead me
to the place that angels dwell,
among the pines and fern groves,
where wild flowers tell,
of their existence and their presence.

Walk with me, beside the water,
hear the sound of a bubbling brook,
let the scents and sounds surround you
and be sure to take a look.
Can you see the color? Can you hear
the sound?
Can you see the love that shines,
when you are around?

Do you know my name, or does it
really matter?
Will I remember or forget,
engaged in idle chatter
or will you leave me alone?

Let me sip the nectar
From a hundred silver cups.
Let me taste, the honey,
Produced by all the Bees.
Let me live today, like
Tomorrow will never come.
After I have lived and loved,
With no remorse or sorrow,
Perhaps the love I've shared
Will bring a new tomorrow,
With many a bright beginning,
For in loving, you will find,
Another day for more giving.

Softly, so very softly,
I say your name
to faceless people
and no one listens.
Alone, in a darkened room,
sits a unhappy man,
surrounded by his frustrations,
lying at his feet.
Rising above this state of mind,
seeing beauty, as it's meant to be,
talking, loving, touching people
with his life.
He becomes a better person, through loving
and by saying,
"Softly, so very softly,
I say your name,
to faceless people
and no one listens,"
except for me.

The darkness, my old friend,
Is back to see me once again.
That is good, a promise kept,
As it's been awhile since I slept.
Tired I am, there is no doubt,
That depression will cry and shout,
To gain a hold in this life of mine.
Fear not for my thoughts entwine,
With love, for all I know
That keeps this aged soul aglow.

Love can not be bought or sold
and is not for you to borrow
what does not belong to you
and give it back tomorrow,
for love runs away from me,
seeking others, for the morrow,
while sadness permeates my soul
drowning me in sorrow.

Soft are the shadows
under the trees,
splashed with the color
of new fallen leaves,
in Autumn.

A bird nest, perched
in the crotch of a tree,
vacant and empty
where life used to be,
in Summer.

Frosts hoary coat, covers
plants and the ground
with snow, against windows
makes nary a sound,
in Winter.

Soon, the cold bleakness
of Winter, will pass
as color and growth
return to the grass,
in Spring.