Magazine Posts

When you left me on that day,
as I recall, it was in May.
Your body was here. Your mind gone.
A long lived couple, now I'm alone.
Alone I will sit, within the room.
No noise here, just like a tomb.
No one to talk to, but I see,
you are lost, in your reverie.

Perhaps you will soon surmise,
seeing the hurt within her eyes.
She can't remember anything.
A lament which will always bring,
a sadness for me to sing.

Barren the earth.
Cold is the night.
A bramble of branches,
Are naked in my sight.
The leaves are all gone.
They lay on the ground
as Song Birds sing
the most joyous sound.

”Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. The world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children"

Address given by U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower on April 16, 1953, speaking only three months into his presidency. The Cold War deepened during his administration and political pressures for increased military spending mounted. By the time he left office in 1961, he felt it necessary to warn of the military-industrial complex.

What can I say
on this beautiful day,
to keep you happy?
I wish I knew,
for I am the happiest,
when I am with you.

You can say it's a bow,
like three in a row,
or you can call it a bow,
by asking about how,
or if it sounds better,
just say how, now.

He walked alone,
over the bridge,
heading for town,
nine miles away.
He didn't have wheels,
for his work was gone.
He slept in the field,
with his old sleeping bag,
using a drop cloth, beneath
to avoid the dampness.
In the morning hours,
he arose from his place,
to look for some work,
so he could pay his way.
It was, for him,
another most beautiful
day. A day to rejoice,
about his lonely life.
Where else, in the World,
would I rather be,
than being able to write an Ode,
such as remembered by me?

Waste not your time,
Do not you tarry,
For I'm on my way
To see the beautiful Mary.
She has never used this
Name, in her long life,
But it is the first name,
Of my lovely wife.
A legal name on
Her drivers license, you see
Now all the doctors,
Address you as Mary.
The name you don't like,
The name you don't use.
When they call you Mary,
It will just continue to confuse;
Not something she needs,
When her Dementia's the worry.
So please correct you records
And please don't you tarry,
For I tire of her reaction
To her first given name, Mary.

Does growing older,
increase your affection,
for others? There is
No fear of rejection.

Yesterday was something.
Something else for me.
A flirt, a tryst of my sanity.
The constant babble;
Words in my ear.
The same words,
Over and over again.
The same questions,
With the same answers,
Given again. Oh please,
Stay calm; Be patient,
A hard task to do,
When the words are flying
Right back at you.
Not how my mind works.
At least not for me,
On this, my lonely journey
Towards my insanity.

Happy Birthday to you.
You old man.
Can you still talk?
Do you understand,
One more year
Has passed you by.
Do you still have,
The energy to try?
Try to be,
The best you can.
Be kind to others,
For you do know,
They all helped you
To be this way.
Full of love,
In your own mind.
Being a friend
for Auld Lang Sine.
Love to all,
Especially to thee.
To see friends again
Is my plea.

Did you ever have the feeling
of impending doom?
I did once, when I entered
an un marked room.
"We won't need you, anymore today,
not this week, not this month.
Here is your severance pay.
Goodbye to you. It's been swell."
Off I went to the "unemployment Hell."