Magazine Posts

Slap, slap, slap,
The very rhythmic sound
Of wiper blades, in action.
Dark clouds overhead,
Rain, pelting the windshield,
Bouncing off the roadway.
Fast moving automobiles,
Throwing spray from tires,
Reflecting lights from
Streetlights, up above.
Eerie lights and shadows,
Appear and disappear, quickly,
As the humming tires, make me sleepy.
Taillight's, bright reflections
Haloed, in the spray,
Brake lights, even brighter,
Cautions drivers to slow down.
Entering the city,
The softness, gives way
To a harsh, strong,
Structured, towers,
Erupting from the ground.

When day is done
And the moon has risen,
Will you please tell me,
I am forgiven?

Please give me a glass of wine
And soon, my words will be flowing
Down to the paper, for a showing,
Of exactly what I write, isn't slight
And can become, a little too trite.

Don't ask me to now succumb,
To logical and mundane issues, quite dumb,
For I ask not, that you understand,
My thoughts or words at my command.
You should see, by now, I can't
And may write more gibberish. I shan't.

A terrible thing, he said to me,
As I went to my bended knee,
Saying a prayer, for those in need,
Of salvation from Pele's huge lava feed.

It has been said, although not often,
Rewards will come to those who wait.
I must say that I might soften,
My patience, until a much later date.
Patience is a virtue, so they say,
I may go crazy and not relate,
So please hurry up and don't delay.

Come run with me, to the darkest
Corner of my mind.
Be prepared to share,
A portion of your time.

Short and quick
And to the point.
Sweet lord,
Is this the joint,
I remembered?

Light a fire, to burn so bright
And chase away the dread of fear,
For I will keep you in my sight,
To hold you, oh so very dear.
For my love for you is now
The love I can feel, so near
And must be kept close, I vow
To not let that love disappear.

Love me, not for what I am,
But love me for what I do.

My soul is being torn from me,
While I feel this type of agony.
I am so helpless, when I see,
Your struggles when I can not be
The Care provider, for you, is me

When I see you, my dear heart
And watch as you slowly come apart,
Your memory, once so acutely fine,
Continues into a slow, steady decline.
No, I will never, in my life, understand
Why this disease, with it's cruel demand,
Leaves a shell, that I clearly see,
Why God chose you and not me.
So, I say to, my sweet wife,
My love for you, is for life.