Magazine Posts

Not your body, near
but loss of mind.
That is my fear.

What to do
on that day
when your mind
just slips away.

I lie in bed
near your side
and know my feelings
deep inside,
are one of fear
of what to do
for I know
I'm losing you.

The Owl calls in the dead of night.
Calls once more then takes flight,
on wings of feathers so soft,
flying to a different tree loft.

Leaves of yellow and brown
lie compacted on the ground,
covering plants, paths and pots
awaiting this Spring's Forget me Nots.

A seed,
a thought,
a gem,
an idea.
What does that mean
to you?
New found ambitions?
New day to work?
Keep yourself busy,
nothing to shirk.

As Winter rain falls
splattering on garden path
making new puddles.

I say of you,
you say of me,
when on Earth,
will I be free?
Free from pain
that is within,
free from noise,
free of the din.
Free of boundaries,
no more fences,
free of the sound
offending my senses.

My wayward soul, tries to escape from me,
over the mountains, across the Sea.
Stay with me, you soul of dust,
for I must stay to fulfill my trust.

The sounds I hear within my head,
are filled with loss; filled with dread.
An old friend of so many years,
has escaped this life, with no more fears.
Away he went, on a golden cart,
toward the heavens where life did start.
God speed to you, my dear friend.
You will join your brother now.
Amen

Poets are but a dime a dozen
Found throughout our native land,
Writing words for those who listen
To the sounds of shifting sand.

Windblown hair covers the eyes
of a young girl,
balanced precariously, upon tubes
of metal, rolling without sound
on rubber doughnuts.

Sunlight's brightness extends a
shadowed twin that keeps pace
with the rider.

I see blue,
but I am not.
I am happy,
can't you see,
all the joy
coming over me?