Contributor Posts

I was a long way,
a long way from home,
when I realized I was lost.
Lost in my mind.

Why the sadness?
What had I done?
Why was I thinking,
you were the one?

When the action, you took,
never came into play,
and here we are looking,
at a new, old day.

Sometime ago,
in a land forlorn,
when I arrived,
the year I was born.

Times were tough,
I've been told.
Looking for work,
was getting old.

Jobs on the Railroad,
a section gang for me.
Laying new rail and tracks,
in Montana, where I be.

The middle of the depression,
when money was tight,
as bills were mounting,
as we worried through the night.

I can see you have returned.
My old friend, Depression,
has reared its ugly head,
as my gloomy mood is in procession.

Why do you come back
into my life?
You nibble the edges, of
the memory of my late wife.

What am I to do with
this way I feel,
when I know your motive,
is not real?

The wind came tumbling,
down the hill where I sat.
Picking up debris which,
lay on the ground, yet,

down the hillside,
it did rapidly go,
until the grass in
the broad meadow,

began swaying and all
many trees where they stood,
buffeted by the winds and
composed of decayed wood.

Branches snapped,
while limbs fell,
the oldest tree,
was not faring well.

It's surprising how are
bodies are like trees,
for when a strong wind strikes,
it a medical disease.

Our limbs are quite fragile,
and our spirits may be weak,
for as we age, parts of our body,
looks for strength it can seek.

No matter the reason,
no matter the cause,
our life may change or worsen,
for it has many flaws.

Love you all, who are with me
on this weird ride.
My body feels strong,
when you are by my side.

When time draws nigh,
we may smile once more.
Pain will be gone,
now and forever more.

Pain is an elusive thing,
for it can be masked,
with motion and time,
and with subtleness sublime.

Don't fret the small stuff,
so, I've been told,
for all the many reasons,
it is starting to get old.

Away we go,
to the land beyond,
where flowers grow,
close to the sound

of music, of which,
we'll sing,
about a life which
was so very endearing.

A love we had,
for many a year,
as said earlier,
will still endear.

The words are too many,
the thoughts are too few,
as I try to remember,
how much I loved you.

You are now missing,
from this life I lived.
You were my life,
now I must proceed,

going on with life,
although it's you I need.
I am saddened daily,
but I must now proceed.

Wind blowing rain sideways,
under the tree where I set,
making me wet all over.
Now I was wet.

I needed to dry off,
so off came my clothes.
My skin usually white,
was the color of a pink rose.

A towel from my backpack,
rubbing myself dry.
I added pants and sweater,
now I'm ready for a new try.

No one cares,
if you're hurting.
No one cares,
if you're not.

The only one
who cares for you,
is yourself,
for you're all you've got.

I have a feeling,
I'm living on borrowed time.
Everything was great,
very sublime.

Was feeling great,
until this morn.
My stomach aches,
do I need to be reborn?

I won't write again about tomorrow,
a day which may never come,
for it's about one's future,
I, for one, have none.

There will be no more tomorrows,
for me in the weeks to come.
I know not when that will happen,
I simply hope and pray there will be one.

Sometimes I become confused.
Unsure if it is the disease.
I know when it happens,
it brings me down to my knees.