Magazine Posts

Down the step,
Behind the chair,
There is something hidden,
I am unaware.
A small confusion,
Some think is there.
Try not to startle,
Move with care,
Discover the Cat's
Newest lair.
This old cat
Is silent now.
No extra noise,
Just a meow.

Have I lost the touch?
Have I lost the skill
Of writing words,
That rhyme at will?

A bastion of silence,
A room full of noise.
The shrill sounds coming
From little girls and boys.
A gathering of Angels
Or Cherubs, if you will.
A very harmonious sound,
That brings forth a chill.
A high Melodious voice,
The sound, Heaven's choice.
Sounds that help comfort me.
The most relaxing of noise,
You don't need to see.

This life of ours, that we eschew,
Is not the same as people view.
The importance of the material things,
Like cars, boats, clothes and expensive rings.
Others will find a full life of joy,
When they spend time teaching a girl or boy.
You can see all the love, from within
For others, at life's end or when a love begins.

When you left, you did it with a smile.
You haven't returned; It's been awhile.
Why you left, I'll never know,
But know this; I love you so.
No matter, if there is Sun or Rain,
I'd do it again, in spite of the pain.

Working in our garden, shovel in hand,
Digging and turning over this plot of land,
When from out from a pile of Oregon Grape,
I glimpsed a movement, my mouth agape.
A baby Possum was waddling towards me.
It moved very slowly, not sure it could see,
Walked around my feet, then said adieu,
While meandering slowly, from my view.
I have not seen another Possum here,
That moved around, with so little fear.

There is a serenity that comes over me,
When I plant bulbs or plants.
Knowing that they will soon grow tall
And beautify our garden, letting neighbors see,
The colorful display that nature can bring.

The garden is now starting to do,
What Nature's way, wants it to.
Most daffodils are now gone,
The flowers brown and yet,
Foliage is full and soaks up the Sun.
Tulips are lovely, this time of year,
But I see petals, start to disappear.
The bluebells I planted, are budding now,
As I await the beauty, that I somehow
Think will be there, when in full bloom.
If the weather would warm
It would be quite soon.

The Moon is full. The sky is alive,
With that bluish tint, that tries to strive,
To fill our craziest dreams. What is there
About a beautiful view, in the night air,
That brings joy to the children everywhere?
I wish I knew and someday we might,
Bring happiness and joy to all that night.

In this hate filled World,
That we live in.
Is offset with a kindness,
That comes from within.
The act of caring for
A stray dog or cat,
Tells me of the love
For animals,
Is where it's at.

I must write of what I feel,
Else this life may get more surreal.
I have noted that late at night,
A wandering about, without delight,
Searching for answers of a question or so,
When I realize there is more to know.
Thought processes, that once were keen,
Are missing the connection, in between.
She knows that something is wrong,
But can't reason of where it will belong.
It frightens me, in a caring way.
I pray that the morrow, is a better day,
For her.

When a tear, rolls down my cheek
And I have difficulty trying to speak,
I will as a simple question; One,
Is this life we know almost done?
A sadness will come over me then,
As I recall when our love began.