When I came to you
with hat in hand,
it was to talk
to you as a man.
A man enchanted by
your radiant smile,
with so much charm,
you would then beguile,
with words of passion
and of love,
which made me pray
to the Lord above.
Please tell me your story,
as I want to know,
about your childhood
and how you became
the enchantress, or so
I think you work your wiles
and keep the suspense
away from your smiles.

Colored chalk,
a grassy knoll.
Don't speak to me
of your sorrow,
for if I should
leave this place,
it's not going to be tomorrow.
You make promises
but not to keep, but to borrow,
for you lie and you lie again,
like a farmers rusty old harrow.

Too many words crowd the page.
Don't confuse my love for rage.
I love waging a war of words,
Better than using guns or swords.

I left town, in a hurry
you see,
for I believed something was
chasing me.
Eerie events, began to confound
my life,
as I tried to ignore my
new plight,
but found I didn't like
the sight
of looking back at what was when
I began,
to see other, not as friends
but enemies.

When life is gone,
away from here.
When there are no more
teams to cheer.
When your friends are
gone from here.
When the Rooster crows at
break of dawn.
When your life is good
and not forlorn.
When in this time
love is back.
When our lives will be
back on track.

From the back of my mind,
these words pour forth.
Words, absurd, are not for me.
Useless they fall to paper, coarse,
in a jumbled array; A mess.
Now I must put in order,
to make sense of this discord.
Does it make sense to you,
when all the mess or a word,
brings understanding, here for you?

Singles arrive and couple up.
Not as you might think but
more the Geriatric group.
Is it a rendezvous?
Or just a meeting of
old friends, or strangers
making a new acquaintance?

Do you remember your first book?
Did it have pictures? Did you look
at the pictures and writing too?
What do you remember, trying to do?
Was it, perchance, a coloring book?
Did you stay within the lines? Look
at where you are today
and what you read to your dismay.
Enjoy your books and papers too,
for the writing by others, may enlighten you.

At last sweet lady, you did appear.
I haven't seen you, for almost a year.
Now, I am finally out of life's muck.
Good to see you, my Lady Luck.

Fear not the life
that lies ahead,
for once you're dead,
you are dead.

Have I seen you around?
Have you been here before?
May I walk you home?
Could we just explore,
Talking of the times
And things we adore.
Would you have dinner with me
So we can talk and see
If we are compatible and
Have the same love,
Or is our meeting
Just a passing love?
It must be difficult,
During a time like this
For there will be no hugging
And most certainly, No Kiss.

The anguish of love.
The anguish of denial.
The anguish of hate,
All last a while.
There is nothing easy,
About life on this day,
Except to work hard,
Keeping the dogs at bay.

A long, long time ago,
in a place far away,
where the Elf and Fairy,
would come to play.
A wooded place with Sun
and shade,
where many toys and tools
were made.
Tools of trade, people
would say,
Sorcerer wands were made
every day,
for use by the Wizards, here
to stay.
A spell to move all the
darkness away.
The zap of a wand can sting
as well
for you will believe you've gone to the
Gates of Hell.

Will I see you soon?
I say to you
for my friend
you brought me to,
where I write my word
and write some more
until I am heard
or I should say, to be correct,
be read, for cause and effect,
as the words spill from fingers taut
writing about Forget me Not.

Is there a meaning,
in the length of a sigh?
Does it vary
as evening draws nigh?
Foolish questions,
a half hearted try,
to explain the reason
for a long drawn out why.

It will soon be the Fall season,
for testing the last bastion of reason.
Here is what we must do;
Get out the vote, please vote Blue.

Of what I write
and what you read,
may differ now
for I will cede,
thoughts you have,
are yours. Proceed
to a place in time,
where you may plead
and it may rhyme.

Write the words that pour forth.
Think not of the meanings
or the time. There is no
reason, I'd understand
if I could not write
words in the sand.
The sands of time and
life our hate has caused
most looks of awe,
makes some sense,
comes to me but I cannot
for my hands are free
to do the tasks God
sent to me. Write down your feelings.
Do it now. Do not worry
about how they may sound,
if you are alone. Just stay
away from that darn phone.
The phone has become your brain,
not your love but a disdain
of not having a Social contact
today. So I'll leave and run from here
and try hard to just go and disappear.

The Moon is shining bright,
peeking through clouds above.
Has the Moon now become
a shining beacon of love?
Or has it become, in this World
a pillar full of hate.
Why do you write these words?
Can you not, now relate
to the words that have described
some terrible time of fate?