Magazine Posts

For all that I know,
Which isn't much,
Tomorrow, the Sun will glow
And as such,
The weather, soon will go
To provide rain to touch.

The wind comes in short, little bursts
A Sun bathed yard and flowers thirst.
For this, usually the wettest of Spring
Is now waiting, for the rain to bring.

A veiling of words, I have used before,
If not quickly written, will be on the floor
Of my mind and will never more
Be seen as this random scribble, I write
Makes sense to others or is quite trite.

A thread of words, comes from my heart,
Up to the mind, which tears them apart.
Sending them down to my hands, to start
Writing the emotional barbs, I'm feeling now
Of expressing myself, if I only knew how.

Spring begins that time of the year
When bulbs and perennials, begin to appear.
The first was an Iris, so very small,
Followed by tiny Daffodils, more tall.
Then came tall Daffodils, Hyacinths too,
With the scent that can over power you.
Waiting now for the Tulips to bloom
Pulling up colors to brighten the gloom,
As we recover from Winter, so readily
One of the worst, we ever did see.
Welcome back to the bursting of Spring;
Welcome back all birds, that sing.

Will the love for tomorrow
Be better than today?
At this moment in time,
It is hard to say.
The memories of our life,
That we share today,
Are slowly being taken away.
You may not know me
Now; but too soon
Won't know my name
When I enter the room.

Ah Spring, that time of the year,
When the greyness of Winter will disappear.
Barren ground, covered with the shredded bark
From last years, old gardening chore,
Is spotty and I need to restore.
The bulbs, planted this past Fall
Are growing and soon, they will all
Burst forth beautifully; I know they will,
As I see purple Hyacinth and Daffodil.
The tops of Tulips, with nibbled tips,
Bring a few unkind words to my lips.
The Bluebells, were planted, this past Fall,
Maybe the most beautiful of all.

What is it like to "Run Amok"?
Can I walk or drive a truck?
Who's to say, someone said to me,
Leave me alone and let me be.

Did you ever think of thee,
Being part of our history?
Involved in the daily news,
Even if it's not what you choose?
Me neither, but then I see
You don't volunteer for history.

I awaken to the sounds, at night
Of crying, silently to ease the plight
And realize that the noise I hear
Is coming from someone so near.
I move my hand and then I feel
The tears on my cheeks, are real.
Stop it! I say, in my Father's word
You're a Big Boy and don't be heard.
But at night when there is little sound
There's no one there, no one around.
The pain; knowing the loss will take
Helps me not, for when I awake,
I know that this time of ours
Will soon only be up in the Stars.

The light in the window
reflects from the glass,
letting travelers know your home
while they're walking past.
The Moon reflects off a darkened
room's glass pane,
casting shadows on the grass
as the Sunlight does wane.
It is a captivating view,
for you and me,
holding hands, as we walk
down the street, so happily.

The World we know is a difficult place,
Awash with friends and strangers
All with a different face.
Be not afraid of that fear within,
Just stand tall as your life will begin.