Contributor Posts

When I awake, not seeing you there
Then it begins.
Another day, filled with loss and despair,
And it goes,
To that old damaged, aching prayer
Of missing you.

Where or why?
To say goodbye
Or say when
Do we begin?
What or who.
Must not do,
There or then,
Instead of when.
Say or tell,
I will try
And, or, but
Is an out,
Not one here.
Are they or them,
Was, I an am,
How or hear,
Can surely endear
Near of far,
And if, now are.
My mind is full
Of words, that
May or not
Work for you
Or for me.
Am I
Going crazy?

Get out! Get out! Get away from here
You are attacking the one I hold dear.
The basic habits she has done before
Are slowly, so slowly, not there any more.
Simple tasks, that are done, day after day
Have escaped her mind and gone away.
I'm sorry to say and do with a sigh,
This is the first time I have seen her cry.
I can't imagine what it is like for she
What this disease has done for her memory.

There's a terrible hurt, that dwells inside,
This ancient shell of a man.
It is a painful process, to decide
That the anguish of a forgotten love,
Can not, will not and must not deride
That memory of praying to God up above.
Only time will lessen the pain, if you decide.

Crashing waves
Seagulls shrill cries
Tranquil

I rememberl a friend of mine say,
"We need to run a marathon, one day".
My reply to him, as I recall
Was not me, not me at all.
We were already doing a short training run,
An experience, I would never call fun.
This was in December of nineteen eighty nine
And our training rules, we'd need to refine.
Running at least eight miles each day
With a long one of fifteen, I would say.
Rest on Sunday, because our set routine.
Our goal was to make our long runs
Every other week to protect our and ankles and feet.
The length of the long run, soon became twenty
And I can say that we did run many.
At last the race day was almost here.
Into the car, we made our long foray
To Vancouver, BC for the run of our year.
The next morning the air held a freeze,
So designer sweats of a Hefty garbage bag,
Over our head, it covered us to our knees
And we could shed it with great ease.
Off all the runners went, at their own pace,
With the coolest of air, blowing in our face.
From the Convention Center to Stanley Park,
The struggles were there, no longer a lark.
We ran with the comfort of our training
Time, now being felt, up to the
Lion Gate Bridge to North Vancouver way
A left and a right, turning to the East.
Then looming ahead, not a favorable sight
Was the East Bridge, with lots of height.
Down the bridge, legs feeling good.
My breathing was not labored, I misunderstood,
When an elderly man, watching, yelled at me,
"Breathe" which I thought I was doing.
My body was laboring, my breathing was hard.
We turned the corner, with the Finish in sight
And we sprinted towards that beautiful sight.
The elation felt when crossing the line,
I will always remember, till the end of my time.

I lay in bed, in the still of the night,
Knowing not, why I am still awake.
Was it something I ate, prior to bed
Or a worrisome thought stuck in my head.
I rise from our bed, not using a light
And go someplace quiet, so I can write
Of the words, rushing into my brain,
Like the picture of an oncoming train.
My Dad used to tease me, sometimes at night
To wear a stocking cap, on real tight,
So when the wind was really a blow,
My ears, like a kite and off I'd go,
Into the air, like a string less kite.
All teasing aside, I know don't you see
My Father really did love and support me.

You are the Captain of my life,
For my spirits fly, when with you.
No matter what this life brings,
The joy I see in your face
Is more than I should be entitled
To partake. You were the one,
I was looking for, to love and honor
And so much more. What to do
When the life of ours does end,
Will remain for others and our friends.

A lonely tear ran down her cheek,
The news was bad, not one to seek.
Why do those, that know not now,
Would comment on and then disavow,
The strength of one, so very frail
To the news that came by US Mail.
Wonder not about those things so sad
When A. L. S did take her Dad.
He was then, only sixty five.
Yet his mind was so alive.

Full Moon
Brightness through trees
Peaceful

(Please understand that I am a religious man but wrote this during a time of frustration)

When we say God is Great
And that God is good,
I may have just misunderstood
Or perhaps, I just can't relate,
How God can allow this state
Of pain and suffering, at this date.
Many will say, " it's just fate".
Spare me please, from all this drivel,
The effect of Dementia, is pure evil.

Daylight breaks
Shadows are now gone
I'm alone