Contributor Posts

Geese in flight
making too much noise
migration

Fall is here
it came with windy rain
Summer's gone

Footsteps across frosted lawn,
Rabbits on their journey
to partake of my bunch grass,
now sheared to the ground.

A time, a place.
Nowhere to go.
A single voice,
But no one says No.
What do we do,
To stop this scene?
Vote, vote , vote,
Would be so keen.

The gentle curve of your shoulder;
That shape I've seen before,
Is what I remember, of our life
When we were younger.
So many days and months before
Our love was one that
Comes, once in a lifetime,
But wait, there is more
Our life will go on
Then end with a roar.

Must I awake, in dead of night,
from deepest sleep, into the light,
as my loved one, says she's cold
and is looking for some clothes.
It's 5 AM as I say to her
"what are you doing"?
She says, back to me,
"I'm cold". I look and she has
an undershirt on top of her
sleeping gown.
An early morning excursion
that she won't recall the
next morning.
Evenings and early mornings
seem to be the time that
strange behavior occurs.
A common trait is what
I've been told.

The smartest one,
I ever knew,
Is still here on this day.
Unfortunately, I now
Confess, has gone away.
She still there
In front of me,
With little left of her memory.

I must admit
that what I say
is such a sham.
I would say to you,
if I were still
an honest man.
I'm not you see,
for if you look,
you will come upon,
the long lost soul
of an unrepentant Son.
The loss of love
in this strange life
is what I see ahead,
for then and only then,
in this white haired head,
are the secrets that
I thought were known,
by every living man,
for instead of being
anchored to the Earth,
our feet are in shifting sand.

Why this feeling? A sense of dread.
I'm still alive. I'm not dead.
Perhaps it's because I cannot see,
What lies ahead in this Worlds uncertainty.

the Maple leaf's fall
fluttering to the wet ground
nature's fall blanket

A sunny day; it is not warm,
Perhaps it's the lull before the storm.
The Sun now hides, behind the cloud
And covers the daylight with a shroud.
Darkness creeps in, not soft but hard,
Covering plants and flowers in the yard.
There is no Moon, nor flickering Star,
For blackness now covers who you are.

A single Moth
Flits to the flickering flame
Poof, it's gone.