Magazine Posts

Don't mock me or the clothes, that I wear.
Please don't even mention my hair.
My hair, is not the bluest of blue
Kind of a mixture or purple hue.
I wear my yellow morning coat, you see
And the polka dot tie that goes to my knee.
My pants are a lovely shade of emerald green,
With pointed shoes, that would impress the Queen.
Why do you stare at poor, lonely me?
I dress this way because I am free.
Free to do what ever I like,
I even have a bright yellow trike,
With bells and whistles, setting the scene,
For I'm fulfilling my only childhood dream.
So off I go, on the short, little trip,
You must admit, that I do look quite hip.
So tell me now, If you possibly can,
Am I your picture of an elegant man?

I water the plants, that are in our yard.
Watering is easy; pulling the hose is hard.
With my I Pod playing and the buds in my ear,
I listen to music and then I do hear,
Willie Nelson, a wailing, like only he can do
And his song brings my thoughts, directly to you.
This is an old, sentimental song for me.
My eyes start to moisten, I hate that they do
But the words being sung, remind me of you.

Petals yellow
Centers brown
Brothers, sisters
All around.

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You're not alone. But, it's never too late to learn the basics.

When you are young
there's little more
to say about those
days of yore when
we ran free
like the wind.
It mattered not
to you or I,
for the love we knew
happened in a flash
and was more of
puppy love, not to last.
Infatuation could be
a great surprise,
as emotions ran so high.
The only thing
happening was
finding a new love,
once again, as this
life's cycle, would repeat
as love or lust
was on our minds
passing us again,
one more time.

Could I be your friend?
Would you please be mine?
I am a beautiful Porcupine.
A strange little creature,
That's what I be,
But I am friendly,
That you can see.
You must be careful
If you try to hug me,
For my quills will engage
And will come free.
A painful thing for you,
But won't be for me.

Stay away from me.
I heard someone shout.
You know nothing, you see
Or what I am about.
Leave me alone
Please let me be.

Well before the leaves turn brown,
Colors will be all around,
Turning shades of yellows and reds,
On their daily grasp of life.
When the brown is at its best,
The Fall winds come from the West,
Shaking limbs and branches readily
And brown leaves fall to the ground,
A sea of dryness, all in brown.

Why am I back awake?
It's 10 minutes past 2.
What in the world am I going to do?
I'm tired, I'm sleepy,
But I'll tell you this;
I'm a long ways away
From eternal bliss.
I worry about the slow demise
And pray that she will see
Another Sunrise.
The mental acuity that's in her head,
I am most certain is nearly dead.
There is little rational, connected thought
And childish pleasure when something was bought.
What can I say? Not much for sure,
I do know this, I must stay and endure.