Magazine Posts

The whole world, is full of sadness.
It can be found in a myriad
Of shapes and forms.
My sadness is nothing,
Compared to those of the world,
So why do I feel sad?

Tomorrow's day is coming
As the hours, quickly pass,
Fleeting, ever ticking,
Faster than a blink.
Life's most precious moments
Are but a twinkle in your eye
That are washed away,
With tears of joy
Or sadness,
At being unable to recapture,
What was lost.
Is there really, justly meaning,
In the deeds, we try to do
Or are they futile efforts,
By me and you?

Cast off, discarded,
Dead before we're gone.
Forgotten by our loved ones,
Our only begotten sons.
Ignored by our children,
Pushed toward the grave.
Forced into leaving a business,
Where we always gave,
Great contributions, for
All the world to see.
Now we become nothing,
Returning to the earth
As dust.
Tell me now, my friend,
Was it worth the living?

I know you dear, better than anyone.
Better than anyone, that's how I know you.
I know the smile on your face, before me
And the love in your eyes, tell me so,
That trouble will never surround you,
For I will never let you go.

Would I,
Could I,
Someday,
If, I were,
At the moment,
Brought to task,
For what I am,
Old, tiring,
Simply lacking,
The desire
To become
A boisterous man.
May I try?
Do you think,
I can?

I know not, your name
But I have seen your face,
Before.
Catching your fleeting image,
At night, in lonely bars.
I have cried,
Unable to find you,
In crowded rooms.
I have asked,
What is your name?
Where are you going?
Why do you elude me?
I listen and hear only silence.
Lost, alone, I keep searching
For an elusive love.

I am dead,
Beneath the ground,
Lie there shriveled,
In the dampness,
Without sound.

Far, in the distance,
The sound of an owl,
Can be heard,
As it circles above,
Searching the fields,
With the sternest of eye,
For the slightest of moment,
Below.

I came to you,
With face all chapped,
From wind and salty sea.
Across the great Atlantic
And through out history,
A lonely immigrant
From northern Germany.

Why must others talk
Of things that should
Concern them, not,
Or press their noses,
Into matters, without giving thought?
People do as they have learned
By rote and emulation.
It annoys me so, causing me,
Enumerable frustration.

I stop to sip and savor
The wine of my lost youth
And think of all the yesterdays,
Gone by.
Remembering all the pleasantness,
Forgetting all the bad,
Brings pleasure to me,
An aging man.
Come sip from a cup of kindness,
That's taken from the vine
Of youthful indiscretions.
Drink deeply, my new friend
And drain the cup.
Don't look back.

Lying close
With deepest breathing,
Beads of love,
Appear in hairlines,
Eyes closed,
As if sleeping.
Quickly, with a deft motion,
You pull away,
From me
And are gone.