Magazine Posts

If a Rose is a Rose,
what do you suppose,
is the plant by my toes?
It was pretty, once
and went away.
The foliage, not much.
Just want to say,
will it grow anew?
This I will pray
it will come again
on a new Spring day.

What an embarrassment,
you are so uncouth,
talking too loud
saying your untruth.

Do you remember your first book?
Did it have pictures? Did you look
at the pictures and writing too?
What do you remember, trying to do?
Was it, perchance, a coloring book?
Did you stay within the lines? Look
at where you are today
and what you read to your dismay.
Enjoy your books and papers too,
for the writing by others, may enlighten you.

Melodic words; Nary a tune,
portray our lives,
in these days of gloom.
Come to the window,
look up at the Moon,
happier days may
be here quite soon.
Here's what to do,
when your receive your ballot
and you vote Blue.

You are my life.
You are my Soul.
Without your love,
I won't be whole.

Do you dance?
Will you dance with me?
May I hold you close,
as it used to be?
No more contact, near or far.
Six feet is the distance,
stay where you are.
Wear your mask,
do it now.
There will be no romance
until the Virus is gone,
along with Number 45.
Goodbye Mr. Trump. So long.

The air is heavy with
much dampness when
a cold wind blows
down the street.
Not raining now.

A faded light, across the darkened room,
portrays relief from the shadowed gloom.
A brightness, I see from afar,
not realizing it is not a light
but a bright, heavenly star.

Small bytes of noise
is what I want
but wordy prose
is what I got.

The brightness is leaving her eyes,
as her long term memory, slowly dies.
Short term memory, I can understand
but losing long term memory, is at hand.
No memory of when we first wed.
All thoughts of our life are now dead.
Losing long term memory loss, is bad.
Perhaps this explain why I feel sad.
I'm the only one in the family now,
who remember our love and life's vow.

At last sweet lady, you did appear.
I haven't seen you, for almost a year.
Now, I am finally out of life's muck.
Good to see you, my Lady Luck.

I feel the ground tremble,
beneath my feet
and I step back slowly,
starting my retreat.
What is the nature of
this cause bizarre?
I ask of you, "Stay
where you are.
Please do not move any
closer to me,
for I fear for you;
let me be."
The noise in my head,
the pain in my heart,
will now keep us separate
and far apart.
What do I say now?
You've gone away
and I must stay here,
on this saddest day.