Oh my, the joy I feel,
when you are talking to me,
about what is happening now,
in the present or recent day..
You don't recall words just said.
The thoughts aren't there.
Instead you ask questions of me.
"Do you remember?" Is what you
say, "the lady we saw yesterday?"
There is confusion, by me,
if it was on TV or in real time.
What a struggle it must be for you,
not able to recall or to separate
TV actions from the real world.
I see confusion in you, when
an ad comes on and you say,
"Who are these people? For them,
I do not know?" I tell you they
are actors, or it is an ad.
I am saddened to see
there is no reaction or understanding
of what I just said and will probably
hear the words, from you, again.

He rode through the Valley of Death.
Etched in his mind, were the fears,
he had worried about, over the years.
From the depth of his Soul,
amidst a ruinous life,
was the rapid derogation of
his beloved wife.
Questions were raised; answers were few,
no help by Medical staff except
to keep steering the course,
while friends and family were his only resource.
Take from me now, for I am able to pay.
You will I know, 'til the end of our day.

To write again, these words to you,
brings satisfaction, in what I do,
for these words, which are here,
will remain on paper, when I disappear.
Written words as a Writer's craft,
brings forth meaning, from the chaff.
Are the words confusing? I will ask,
for writing words is my daily task.

It was early,
it was morning,
the Sun yet to rise.
A sound heard,
a tapping noise.
A staccato of taps.
Startled, now awake,
the taps came once more,
rattling the window.
Darn Flicker,
your beak and head,
using as a hammer.
Making all the noise.
I'm now awake,
the noise was intense,
so getting up,
is what I did.

My mind is gone.
It's lost again.
All the heat
has warped my head.
No Air Conditioner,
bedroom 102 at 12 pm.
God, what a few days
which seem like an eternity.
32 degrees warmer than our
collective averages, for the
month of June, makes zero
sense. Global warming?
Probably so, still does not
make sleepless nights, OK.
Don't mean to whine or
carry on but how do you
plan for this weather
aberration? Tomato plants
with leaves curled and withered
sends this man into a dither.
The flower garden is taking a big
hit as there isn't enough water
to keep it from evaporating.

A dead branch
amongst the leaves,
is gray in color,
contrasting with hues
of reddish-purple,
Japanese maple tree.

What does it mean
when you say, "Born Free?"
Is it free to all,
or just to thee?
An entitlement for some
but not for citizens, all,
removes the neighborly trust,
for one and for all.
Why should we care,
for this, when you are to be
disadvantaged, economically

The smell of Sage,
from brush, blue-green;
an aroma, so good,
it can overcome your sense.
The smell of heated wood,
fills the air, as the Sun
beats down, on Sagebrush land.

Leaves swirling under tree,
an occasional Hornet,
visiting flowers.

Trying to create words
without inspiration
is as if making a new
kind of aberration.

Grey is the light
of an approaching Dawn.
Dew is the sparkle
on the grassy lawn.

Write all the words,
uncertain they are.
Write them down now,
both near and far
away in this World
and what it must be,
of all the lies,
bordering on idiocy.
Slink back to the shadows,
don't come out into the light.
Stay where you're huddled,
if you don't want to fight.
Lie after lie is the untruth,
which you now see,
but don't except the answers,
for you are crazed like me.

It's a knotty mess
of rope or line.
Don't call it naughty
or a large twine
for it's a rope.
not a fishing line.