Magazine Posts

The words come forth
from my childlike mind.
Some are cruel,
some are unkind.
Nevertheless, out
the words come,
some are witty,
others are dumb.
Why do those words,
from long days gone bye,
fall to the paper,
with nary a sigh
nor a yell?
Please tell me now,
if you can tell.

I run from you.
I try to hide,
but I miss you so,
my thoughts can't decide,
if I should stay
with you, by your side.

You weren't a fancy dog
with fur of dark grey,
but you were our dog,
with us you would stay.
You brought us much joy,
for all of 17 years,
your leaving brought many tears.
The happiness you brought,
was the best there was.
There was no reason,
it was just because,
you were the sweetest story
in this short life of yours,
living with us forever,
your Soul in the Stars.

If you don't like
what I write or do,
I understand your
point of view,
as what I write
may be more about me
than about you.

What is
this thing,
that a Frost
will bring?
Help us
my Lord,
with a
warm Spring.

The words I see
wrapped around your Star,
describes of thee,
the beauty you are.

An inner beauty,
for all to see,
but at this moment,
are all for me.

Your love, I know,
remains here to see,
is only a distant,
missing memory.

A hidden smile.
A batting of eyes,
makes me wonder.
I now realize,
the game we played,
when we met,
many years ago.
You were serious
and I didn't know.

Say to me,
my beloved one,
start the day,
in early morn.
Tell me about
your day before.
Remember all words
that come to you,
about the love,
yours to do,
with what's nice,
love for you
matters not the price.

From where you am.
From where I are,
My attempt to rhyme
Has gone too far.

Beneath the grass so green,
on the far away hill,
lives a male Marmot.
I'll call him Phil.
Phil likes to burrow,
to run and play
and lie on the grass
to catch a ray
or two of Sun.
If you were to approach
these gentle creatures,
in the light of day,
they will let out a whistle
and go away,
under the grass,
where their dwelling is.
Waiting silently, without sound;
Phil will slowly come out
and look around.
Stay still, be quiet, you will see
a small portion of Phil's family.

Why, on all these days, I can't forget,
I feel like I was rode hard
and put away wet.

An inane discussion, is what it was.
No rhyme or reason, it was just because.
No logic in the words she said.
No understanding by me,
No rhyme or reason,
As there was nothing there,
Just an angst, full of despair.