Magazine Posts

Here I go again,
down this old path.
Should I be serious
Or just have a laugh?

Words that begin flowing
towards paper, with pen in hand.
Are words left unspoken,
just heard in my head.
I write these thoughts, unthinking.
Free of the fear of failing,
when I send these words to thee.
Where am I now? What's next to do,
but to shelter and protect, my only you.
Where ever I go, what ever happens,
when I am around you,
it is so good for me,
I hope it is for you too.
For you are the one I love, every day.
I hope that this feeling never goes away.

Rough are the words
I write for thee.
Covering many subjects
for you and me.
Where do these words
come into line?
From out of the depth
where words are entwined,
from the tip of my toes
to the depth of my Soul,
entertaining you and others,
has always been my goal.

Sometimes I sleep "The Sleep of the Dead"
with no thoughts or dreams in my head.
An absence of words, so deep inside
stay within my head; are trying to hide.
When I awake from this stupor so deep,
I then know what it is like to sleep.
Unlike the times I get up at three
as the words in my head will remind me,
scribe down to paper, in my notebook,
the words that appear haven't been forsook.
Later that morning, I'll re-read the words,
striking out those are simply absurd.

Laying in bed, words all a jumble;
I'm not writing them down,
for I will not tumble,
into this pit of worry
or feeling sorry for me.
Oh dear God, help me out of this mess
of seeing my beloved, slipping away.
What can I do, on this miserable day?
My love for her is still there;
She knows me not, I'll not despair,
for I know her and always will.
My love for her gives me a thrill.
I know these words, corny they are,
but they're my words, they surely are.

Some days it seems, I have been
married my entire life
to a beautiful woman
who is now my wife.
Of all the things that I could be,
only happened because of she.
The support she gave so readily,
was done with elegance and dignity.
What will happen, when she goes away?
I suppose I will know on that fateful day.

I know not what I write,
I know not at all.
The words that pour out
are not mine I write,
for there seem to be no
thought in my mind,
other than writing the words.
Hopefully they're not trite
but have meaning to you,
it's for you that I care,
no matter the issue,
no matter the time,
my wish for you
is Peace and be kind.

There is no weeping.
There is no sound.
There is no pain.
There is nothing around.
There is no sadness.
There is nothing here.
There is I confess,
There is a place.
There will be too.
There is your face
Looking back at you.

What must I do
to keep you
lying safe, beside me?

Across the meadow; a meadow so keen,
a beautiful setting if you know what I mean.
Follow the trail, don't cut through the weed,
and you'll be rewarded, oh yes indeed.
A little sound, could be heard, perhaps a bee,
flying from flower to flower, with great speed.
The Glen was as pristine as you could see,
as I waited patiently; waiting for thee.
A romantic setting, is what I recall,
a precious spot for one and all.

I think of you, my young friend,
wondering if we might have been,
star crossed lovers, in another life,
or if we married and you were my wife?
You left me so sudden, saying
if you need help, just let me know.
It's been two months, plus a few days
and my mind is now in a haze.
Contact me please, I say to you
for at this time I worry about you.

A single line of Tulips
across the hallowed ground,
lies the remains of our heroes
where they always will be found.

There lies Sgt. Smith;
a marker with his name,
who gave his life for Country
for a World he never knew.
He lies, interred, in the ground
for all, not just a few.

Pray for him and the others
at this most revered site,
for they were all our Brothers,
who died the noble fight.