Magazine Posts

I don't know why.
You tell me,
Why my mind,
Locks up
With thoughts,
Too small
Or so large.
I need to clear,
At least for me,
This pile of words,
Hindering my mind.
Stuck away
To those places,
So deep inside.
Help me, please,
This voice does plead,
For I cannot see
What lies ahead,
Besides the agony
Of a body's failings.
No matter what.
No matter who.
I need freedom
To see myself
As others do.

Who am I, to you?
Who are you, to me?
I'm sure there's an answer,
Somewhere inside of thee.

Don't know why.
Don't know who.
It's just me.
Then there is you.

The flashing, moonlit arrows
reflect across the calm waters,
in the early morning hours
of a false dawn

Words in my head,
words that I hear.
Write them down quickly
or they disappear.
Words with true meaning,
words that are false,
but they are leaning
to being something else.
Words that feed me.
Words that I see.
Thank God for
delivering them to me.
Words by themselves
have a lot to say.
For me it's simple
they brighten my day
I will keep writing,
as long as I can,
for after all
I'm a word driven man.

A lonely Iris
Poked through the ground
Bird Gardner?

In the distance; a flash of light.
A muted noise of thunder.
I see the flash and start my count
Of one thousand one, one thousand two,
To help me guess, how far away.
I've always liked to hear the noise,
As a thunderstorm approaches.
To smell the air, during this show
As lightning, this time, appears to
Be heat lightning, flashing across the sky.
I recall a year, when in awe.
Lightning bolts, would commence
And march as soldiers to battle.
Spectacular it is, when Nature's show,
Lights up the sky, to make us aware
Of the power, in those serene skies.
We'll await for the next time.
Why are my words trying to rhyme?

I can't imagine what you are going through
When you no longer know what to do.
Patience for me, is what I need
To understand, care and to feed,
The failing mind of the one I hold dear.
Please don't forget me. That's what I fear.
But if that time comes, when you do
Forget my name. I will still know you.
I love you so, my dearest wife.
It pains me to see this in your life.

Saratoga Pass, Washington

I am concerned, that the words I write
Are becoming mundane and somewhat trite.
I don't wish to write that way
As all I want, to say is,
"Please read these words, that might
Intrigue your thoughts on darkest night."
If you don't care, that's okay,
For I will write differently, another day.