Magazine Posts

I lay next to her, my oldest friend,
with fear by my side, as I pretend.
The life we have loved, is close
to the end, as she morphs into a
child. A young child once again.
A young person, in her mentality,
but old in her physical reality.
My head on the pillow
as tears start to seep,
while the sadness overcomes me,
as I pray for others, and fall asleep.
I write of sadness, to no avail,
wondering about life and my fail.
Failed to keep her safe from harm.
A failure too late, to see the alarm,
as her memories, slowly fade away.
Please don't tell me, "Have a good day."

When someone calls you Dumb"
Consider the source; who it comes from.

NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day:

What's that below those strange clouds? Presidents. If you look closely, you may recognize the heads of four former US Presidents carved into famous Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, USA. More obvious in the featured image are the unusual mammatus clouds that passed briefly overhead. Both were captured together by a surprised tourist with a quick camera in early September. Unlike normal flat-bottomed clouds which form when moist and calm air plateaus rise and cool, bumpy mammatus clouds form as icy and turbulent air pockets sink and heat up. Such turbulent air is frequently accompanied by a thunderstorm. Each mammatus lobe spans about one kilometer. The greater mountain is known to native Lakota Sioux as Six Grandfathers, deities responsible for the directions north, south, east, west, up, and down.

Photo by Laure Mattuzzi

www.arrestinglight.com
www.facebook.com/VadymGraiferPhotography 

I was out in the outbacks of Stanwoodopolis today, down a dirt road I’d never traveled, one no doubt soon to be paved and developed, but for now 35 acres off the highway, down a dead end, where a buddy was clearing out a recently deceased friend’s shop, house and outbuildings to the highest bidders. Actually, to anyone who would take the stuff, pay the daughters of the deceased what you thought was fair.

First time through I rummaged around, took some maple and walnut lumber, shielded my eyes from the siren call of power tools I really don’t need any more of, and was about to take my leave when the old parlor stove caught my eye back in the far corner of a crammed shop. Now … for those who think a thermostat, the kind with a dial and a graduated temperature setting, is an antique compared to the new digital, individual areas with timed on and offs controlled by a smart phone … for those of us who have avoided moving into the late 20th Century, a wood parlor stove is a tempting item. And … if you have a 1930’s stove that heats your woodshop with a gaping crack in the cast iron body, you better believe a 1900 intact, fully functional, nickel top stove would be hard to resist as the perfect replacement in your shop. Which explains why it’s in the back end of my truck waiting until daylight to unload the beast, drag it into its proper place on the throne and keep me warm these cold damp days. With style!

I guess I live an antique life, I know that. And as the world accelerates exponentially, I realize I’m falling farther and farther back, an object no longer closer than it seems in the rearview. Even these — these scribbles on a page written by hand in the upstairs of my old shack — are old school anachronistic musings few people will read and no one will remember. And why would they? This particular past in the digital future will look as obsolete and irrelevant as, oh, I don’t know, heating with wood cut and split and stacked and burned by some old fart in a stove you might see in a museum. You know, if we still had museums by then.

Visit the Skettle Daddle Site

The choice of a word,
when there is a breeze,
makes all the difference,
if your wish is to please.

There once was a life.
It was here before,
outside the window,
outside the door.
It is happening now,
it is happening again
because of the stupidity
and the ignorance of a man.
How many lives do we,
know, we'll soon lose?
The idiocy of the question
is, what do we choose?
"It's all rumor, a Democratic hoax."
After all the deaths we've had,
Is it now a big joke?
You're quite ignorant Mister Trump.
It is what you are.
You should be in jail,
after Due Process of course,
for the criminal you are.

I once stood where you are now.
Full of excitement, of what will be.
A new life's adventure, now I see,
Pictures of love; happiness for thou.
The hurt in this World, I disavow.

Dancing through Midnight.
Dancing until dawn.
No sleep tonight.
Too young to yawn.
Working all day.
Then going to meet,
My friends, once more,
For the pleasant treat,
Dancing again, until dawn,
Followed by a collapse
Into the warmth of bed,
Sleeping the long sleep,
The sleep of the dead.

NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day:

These dark pillars may look destructive, but they are creating stars. This pillar-capturing image of the inside of the Eagle Nebula, taken with the Hubble Space Telescope in 1995, shows evaporating gaseous globules (EGGs) emerging from pillars of molecular hydrogen gas and dust. The giant pillars are light years in length and are so dense that interior gas contracts gravitationally to form stars. At each pillars' end, the intense radiation of bright young stars causes low density material to boil away, leaving stellar nurseries of dense EGGs exposed. The Eagle Nebula, associated with the open star cluster M16, lies about 7000 light years away. The pillars of creation have been imaged more recently in infrared light by Hubble, NASA's Spitzer Space Telescope, and ESA's Herschel Space Observatory -- showing new detail. Be Honest: Have you seen this image before?

You were always there,
close by my side,
our life's journey, smooth,
now a bumpy ride.
I have no regrets.
not even a few.
My life was much better,
being married to you.