Magazine Posts

My ears are ringing.
It's ringing; not a buzz,
while my head feels
like it is covered in fuzz.
Perhaps it's my body,
giving me a hint,
that my old grey matter
is full of old lint.
It's surprising to me
as my mind does recoil
and what I see in the news
makes my blood boil.
The ignorance that is seen,
in this great land,
is in both parties as they
await the command.
Get out to vote.
Vote where you can.
Vote for your choice,
Woman or man.

She said to me,
"if I tell you to go,
would you just leave?
When you look at me,
I see the sadness, you feel
and know you'll be
better when I'm gone."
I said "Stop don't talk like that
for I am here for you,
no matter what you might do.
Please don't worry about me;
we will manage this, please agree."
She looked and nodded at me.

The wind in the valley
is blowing quite hard.
Blowing all of the debris
out of our yard.
That's not all bad,
if you know what I mean,
except the neighbors debris
is now my yards scene.

My hat was on
and then I said,
I feel the rain
on the back of my head.
Is your hat waterproof?
they asked of I.
It must not be
for my head isn't dry.

Deep in the forest,
where you'd never go,
there dwells a creature,
you may not know.
A creature quite short
or stocky to see.
A grumpy one certainly,
it reminded me of me.
His name is Badger,
He roots through the soil,
looking for some food
before it does spoil.

She came up to me.
her eyes filled with dread.
She had been sleeping,
The sleep of the dead.

A sleep so deep;
no thoughts, no dreams,
no tossing or turning,
not what it seems.
For centuries it's happened,
that is well known,
the deepest of sleep,
when tired to the bone.

Why in this life,
that used to be swell,
has become so much
like a living Hell?

Rough are the words
I write for thee.
Covering many subjects
for you and me.
Where do these words
come into line?
From out of the depth
where words are entwined,
from the tip of my toes
to the depth of my Soul,
entertaining you and others,
has always been my goal.

Oh you poor little slug,
you're not an insect,
nor are you a bug.
You'll chew all the leaves
of the colorful Primrose.
Would you please stop,
or is it anything goes?
Out comes the Sluggo
or the grey goop Deadline,
to keep you from eating
those pretty flowers of mine.

Where do thou go,
when you're talking to I?
Your eyes become dim,
your breath is a sigh.
A sigh so forlorn
that I won't even try,
as I watch you fade
without a goodbye.

A one hit wonder,
is that what you are?
Surrounded by fans,
both near and far.

Your rise to fame,
your being a star,
is remarkable now,
when seen from afar.

The most beautiful women,
the fanciest car.
we now know you
are a Rising Star.

Raining so hard
most difficult to see
wet feet for me