Magazine Posts

If I were you, which I am not,
I would be thankful, for what I've got.
Give thanks to your God, that's up above,
That you do not hate, but you do love.

You don't read
what I write,
but please know,
that's all right.
You are here,
within my sight,
as the daylight,
turns to night.

It is time, for me to try
To do some good, before I die.
It's not a compulsion, don't you see,
It's something that I need for me.
An act of offering a helping hand
And bring civility back to this land.

I hear the shatter of glass
in the street.
I see a ball, a mass
at my feet.
I look around to see who,
performed that feat.
It was then I saw you,
making your retreat.

My mind is such a crazy place,
Filled with hurtful thoughts, lacking grace.
Why's that, you may ask of me?
I'm not certain, it's OK to be,
Happy, when my life's a mess
And all I'd like is a hug and kiss.

It was some rain we needed
And it was rain, we got.
All the places I have seeded,
May soon begin to rot.
If my luck is good this day
they will begin to root, a lot.
Spring should provide a colorful array.
Of Columbines and Daffodils
To brighten up the day.

Life has been so good to me,
But not so good to you, I see.

A younger, carefree man, was I
When roaming the World, I did try.
My Uncle had made room for me,
By providing a room with the US Navy.

In the early morning hours,
Before the start of day.
The Sun hasn't risen yet,
But is on it's way.
There's dew on the ground,
I hear cars go by,
As the breeze from their passing,
Swirling around, ankles and feet,
While I'm moving very slowly,
Hearing this old heart beat.

These cool mornings so crisp and fair
Await the Sun to warm the air.
Flowers that are still in the ground,
Stand there silently, with leaves shrunken down
And will bask in the Sun's rays
On these remarkable clear, sunny afternoon days.

I think of you and of me,
And realize, we are lost at sea.
Lost in this sea of lingering doubt,
Knowing not what our life is about.
Doubting the system, facing us in life,
That's full of heartache, trouble and strife.

Days go by quickly, as we age.
Another day is gone, turn the page.