Magazine Posts

The Ocean sounds
I like the most
Are the ones I hear
On the Oregon Coast.
The view, just out of reach
Is seen at Cannon Beach.

Out in our garage to put something away
When I tried a new dance move,
A slight trip and to my dismay,
Did a pirouette, grabbed at a chair,
Not as good as old Fred Astaire.
My balance, now lost, I let out a roar
As I did a stumbling move
That's when I fell to the floor.
No one saw or heard my yell.
My hands hit the floor first,
The pain I felt could have been worse.
No broken bones; so lucky was I.
My advice to you, is not to do
My dance moves; Don't even try.

Down in the meadow, under the tree
Is the place that love first came to me.
A sheltered spot, staying cool in the Sun,
When my true love and I became one.
My love for you is strong as can be
As I will always take care of thee.

Out shopping with my wife Dear
when I espied this beauty
that had popped from, the green near.
The picture was snapped for thee
to enjoy this view of growth, new
in this late October, picture for you.

The towering trees; an enchanting scene
with a vibrant colorful forest floor.
A light caress of a sunlit kiss,
brightens the day, where Fairies play
in their private paradise.

I planted Pansies, nine
For their beauty not
So the rabbits could dine.
Just one left is my lot.

This life we live
of love and hate,
is one that we control,
not one someone makes.
Be it fine or not,
only you can decide,
what role you take
when your life is a ride.

I hope in the next life
you treat her with care,
for at this moment,
I'm filled with despair,
from the loving God
I hear about,
that hears not my prayers.
So I'm left to go and shout,
"Why are you doing this to she?"
Tell me please tell this aged lout
for I don't understand
why she must suffer so
while hurting her and family.

I hear the wind in the Maples.
Branches rubbing about.
A freshet is with us
Of that there's no doubt.
Light rain is falling
On this protected lair
And I hope that the weather
Will soon turn quite fair.

With heat, wind and rain
and weather disasters
comes some fresh blooms
of beautiful Asters.

The end of Summer.
A brand new Fall.
Another season,
As I recall,
The leaves soon
Will be aglow,
When Nature starts
It's beautiful show.
Reds, orange, yellow, brown
A great display
For all to view.
I love this annual
Cycle that ensues.
The wind will freshen.
Leaves will fall
As Winter approaches;
We know it will,
When the temperature drops
And we get a chill.

It's not her fault
It's the disease
I say to myself
every day.
It's not her fault
for what she will say
or if anger presents
itself today.
No filters is what I see.
Please God, please
help me. Help her be
the person she was
just once more.