Magazine Posts

Dear God, in Heaven,
before I meet my demise
is it asking too much
to see another sunrise?

My love for you, is not in vain.
Watching you slip away;
Away from reason
and your inability
To use logic.
Our discussions, have become
One of remembrance
With reference to
Our two Sons,
That you now confuse
With each other.
Names of close friends
Are not there unless I say
To you, who they are.
You do remember
The granddaughter's name.
I am thankful for that
And helps me know,
That the one I love
Is still aware of her,
As she is her only joy.
I just hope that she
Will still remember me.
I don't know why,
I don't know how
But she no longer
Knows me now.

Don’t just dream about Side Hustle Doughnuts. Don’t just think you’ll visit someday. Set your alarm. Get yourself out of bed. And get yourself down to Georgetown. You won’t be disappointed. In my humble opinion, these are the best doughnuts in Seattle.

Tell me a story and tell it well,
for I hunger for words, I heard,
so many years ago. Words of terror,
words of praise. Telling stories of
the brave souls, who paved the way,
for all of us.
How they lived and how they died.
Even the failures that did reside,
within the walls, so dark.
Unable to keep the love, that grew,
when all the World, did know.
Yet, you kept on but not for long,
as the candle wick ran out of
tallow and fell into the shadow
of a moonless night, with only
Stars to guide your way.
You became impatient and said
of their last refrain.

My mind spews out this
meaningless prattle,
awaits the kind of life,
with no tomorrow,
that will end with abject sorrow.
What to do, oh what to do,
for in one's death
there will be no more you.

I hear sounds of dogs at bay,
as we lie on the meadow floor.
A forbidden adventure is in play
as I keep asking for more.
More of the love, that we had.
It was all very good.
There was nothing bad.
So, why have we parted this way?
Was it something I said,
that turned you away?
Please tell me; oh tell me so,
for my Soul is now hollow
with no place to go.

Peggy's Cove Fishing Village

You may come for the famous lighthouse, but there’s lots more here to see - and to the sea. Waves exploding around ocean-swept rocks (don’t get too close!), wooden houses perched along the narrow inlet, the famous gingerbread at the Sou’Wester Restaurant, the arts & crafts stores scattered among the fishing shacks, and the homemade ice-cream at Dee Dee’s.
Catherine Rose Photography

Talks of dragons and mystical things;
Stories about The Lord of the Rings.
Tales of Rocket ships to the stars;
Hearing about excursions to Venus and Mars.
All stories, with imaginations gone wild,
Came from the mind of a young child.

A golden sunrise
Clouds, reddish, yellow and pink
Life's cycle

Can you tell me this per chance?
Have you ever seen a chicken dance?
I may have, when they scratched and dug.
Was that their version of cutting a rug?

An Oceans smell
Of salt, wind and spray.
Fly away

We were young and a pair of fools,
Who played hard, when we could,
Breaking all the known rules.
Frank was my close friend.
He became my best man.
We would go out to drink beer,
From bottles, not from a can.
Frank had a 47 Ford, Turtleback
And mine was a 47 Plymouth Coupe.
We would cruise through the 'Burg,
Around the block, doing a big loop.
We liked the noise of the cars
And would exchange our mufflers
With Smittys, glaspaks and
Were nice sounding with Echo cans.
We would cruise the town, like LeMans.
Noise from the Smittys were not crass
And when we cruised by the stores,
We could rattle the window glass.
Those were the days; no more to see
For most of my friends
Are now sweet history.