Magazine Posts

I'm up very early
at a quarter of two
and all I can do
is think about you.
I recall your smile
and your gentle grace,
as I call forth a vision
of your beautiful face.
What can I say
about this tepid relent?
I wish that I knew
what is fates intent.

You don't know me at all
and most certainly not well,
But I feel that my soul
Is being pulled towards hell.

No one so pretty.
No one so pale.
Your angelic face
Will always prevail.
Stay strong with elan,
Happy Holidays, JoAnn

Your face is of beauty,
so light and so fair.
The extra long tresses
of your flaxen, gold hair.
The beautiful smile
that you wear every day,
is sure to beguile,
before running away.

How far have we come?
What is our next goal?
Will the message from some,
Cause damage to our soul?
I wish that I knew.
How about you?

The brightness of the moon
trickled through the trees.
The quietness was very soon
disturbed by a breeze.
The sound of tires on highways afar,
created an eerie picture
by the noise from the cars.

You need to be better,
It was recently said,
For patience is virtue
And will help your head
Become that much clearer
And then, perhaps instead,
Will lessen this feeling
Of absolute dread.

If I were an Angel,
I know what I'd do.
I would take away illness,
Providing a cure for you.
But I'm not an Angel,
So all I can say,
"I'll say a strong prayer,
Each night and each day
And ask, the Dear Lord,
To take the illness away."

It matters not, what I say or do,
It only matters that I love you.

The days of the past are now gone
and won't be back again.
Don't look back, when you hear the noise
of your history's past refrain.

It's 3:30 a. m. or I should be precise,
It is actually, 3:22, Isn't that nice?
The words in my head, rattling about,
Keep bouncing around, trying to get out.
Now, I sit at a table and chair,
Urging the words to appear from the air.
No matter how many or how few,
I've captured the moment, that I do
Write down words, no matter the dread
To hurriedly write and return to my bed.
Now the words are written to take,
Here I am now, very much awake.

The crispy air, nips at my nose
and as I walk, I feel my toes
starting to tingle, searching for heat,
I must put socks upon my feet.
Not liking to wear socks, not at all,
be it Spring, Winter, Summer or Fall.