Magazine Posts

The Moon is full,
all silver and bright
on this early morning,
before first light.

After World War II, my Father
purchase, The Orchard Trailer Park,
in Riverton Heights, about a
block off of Highway 99.
He had left his job at
Todd's Shipyard, where he was
an Electrician; a Supervisor.
He also built a small building,
on Highway 99, where he opened
a store selling electrical products.
I recall one product, a radio,
manufactured by Gilfillen.

I would ride my bicycle, with my
friends, South on Highway 99 to
Angle Lake to swim. On occasion
we would ride to Bow Lake, more
of a pond, and fish.
Bow Lake today, is where the
Hilton Hotel is located. It is across
Highway 99 from SeaTac International.
Several years ago, I attended a
meeting at the Hilton. When we
had a break, I walked out the back
and there it was. No rushes or
Cat Tails, or noticeable weeds.
My of my, what a change to
the Old Fishing Hole.

Where do you go, every day?
You're not here, your far away.
What thoughts run through your head?
Watching TV, you'll ask of me,
"What did they say?"
I don't know if you can see
when you ask and it's on TV.
I do know that if I say," give me the remote",
you will pick up everything but
and ask, "Is this it?'
I can't imagine what I would do
if it was me, in that state,
instead of you.

A friend of mine, once said to me
I need to talk to an adult,
not to a child or a dog.
Not funny, but I understand,
for I have found. I have a need.

Grabbing a skillet, by the handle,
when in an oven,
without benefit of a oven mitt,
is painful and unwise.
Shouldn't be a surprise.

Be Prepared,
is the watchword for today.
Be prepared,
in each and everyway.
Be prepared,
to do what you say.
Be prepared,
that was the Boy Scout way.
Be prepared,
now that life has gone away.

I've traveled the World,
across the blue sea,
courtesy of Uncle Sam,
and all for free.
No amount of money,
will keep me away
from the memories
of the U.S Navy.

A feeling of pressure,
building inside,
where my emotions
are trying to hide.
Should I seek help,
Or simply decide
and ask for forgiveness
with you at my side?

Why are we here, on this planet Earth?
Is it to appease others, bringing forth mirth?
It could be but I will now pray
our resident clown, just goes away.

I am now alone,
unlike the past.
No flowing discussion,
just wordy chaff.
No recollection of our daily drive.
No memory, stripped clear of thought.
She couldn't recall the food I bought
only minutes before,
but when I told her a fact,
she would come back
to the subject, asking about who
so I begin guessing, it's what I do.

Why do I keep buying sketch pads?
A good question, I've said to me,
for I do not have the time
to draw figures or things
having the satisfaction, which it brings.
Don't give up; a talent is there.
In the beginning, I'm told your art
will be fair, as you progress,
after your fresh start.
Appreciate your part.

Time to shake loose
all these words in my head.
Without trepidation,
but with courage instead.
Words that will tumble,
as if from a jar,
landing on paper
by aching wrist.
Don't stop now;
my mind does insist.
Write all you can.
Do it right now,
stopping not to think,
just do it.
You do know how
surprisingly the "spring
has run dry."
I'll ask you later.
Please tell me why.