Contributor Posts

Valentine Day is coming.
To dinner we will go.
I promise you no singing,
For you and I both know,
This might be last, in this life,
To dine out as man and wife.
I love you my beautiful one
And will always stay with you,
Until this life is done.

I have so little time to write
That I grab any moment I can.
Not the most favorable of settings,
But most certainly is better than
Not writing at all. Please understand.

You say, I need to go away
To a place where I can stay.
It's not fair for you, she cried.
I said, No, I'll stay by your side
Until there is no more night or day.
I'll be with you, all the way.

She cried tonight and then did say,
Don't want my friends to see me this way.
That becomes hard for me to emote
When I feel hands around my throat.
The anguish that's felt, I can't write down
My heart is breaking as I look around
And see our friends and family.
I hate this part of life's finality.

Was I lost and have now been found
Or was it something less profound?
Who is to say? Certainly not me,
For on today my mind runs free.

There sat a small bird.
I'll call him Fred.
No chirping songs heard.
Hopping around on the deck,
Seeing something; making a peck.
Got my sack of seed,
Scattered some on wooden planks.
After awhile Fred is back,
Looking at me and my sack
Of bird feed, held in hand,
Acting like he is now
in his own promised land.

Don't yell at me, I won't succumb.
I'm not stupid nor am I dumb.
My frustration, when I try to speak:
Can't remember, doesn't make me weak.
My mind won't connect. I can't say,
How I feel about this day.
So don't lose your patience, not with me,
I'm doing the best I can, for thee.

Out in the side yard, under a tree,
The Hellebores covered with snow. I can't see
Their beautiful flowers and this saddens me.

I don't remember but I do suppose
That when happiness is spoken, everyone knows.
When love for another, is greater you see,
And matters not for you or for me.

The melodious laughter
A most wonderful sound
Of the children playing,
In the snow, all around.

The tinkle of ice in a glass.
A splashing of liquid, pouring past,
With alcohol or even with out,
It tastes good enough to shout,
Here's to life, fickle as it may be,
So here's to you and to me.

Animal tracks,
I see in the snow,
Causes me to wonder,
Where did you go?