How Do You
• 01/31/24 at 10:51PM •How do you put pen to paper,
writing a story about fictional
work, using your imagination,
when your writing is too factual.
How do you put pen to paper,
writing a story about fictional
work, using your imagination,
when your writing is too factual.
Why all the excitement,
why waste all the time,
when I have this feeling,
of attracting a clinging vine.
I suppose it is flattering to
have women, I barely know,
hang around, waiting for me,
to be attracted to them, so,
It is not going to happen,
my loved one has been gone,
about 5 weeks. I am not ready.
Please leave me alone.
Would I, could remember?
All the joy of the past.
It's not to my liking,
but it is now, my life's path.
Cheap perfume filled up the room.
The room filled with hanging veils.
The stories which follow,
maybe truth or imaginative travails.
An awkward teenager dreams, of coming of age,
a fantasized dream in the teenage night.
Push yourself forward, staying out of sight, howdy
is a good way to be alright and not too gawdy.
I'm having a flashback,
to a moment in time,
when I was alive
and entering my prime.
Navy life wasn't all,
it was cracked up to be,
however, I had this elation,
which set me free.
I'm just a man,
living with my grief,
why do I feel,
like an emotional thief?
Why do women,
flock around me?
I'm not interested,
and may never be.
Words come not easily,
during this time of remembrance.
I cannot leave words to luck,
or play words to a game of chance.
Why so much grief,
which tears at my soul.
Why am I sad and alone,
in this my life's toll?
A toll, a change,
another personal fee,
when it happens,
I remember thee.
I need to get me,
some of those skintight jeans,
so I can change my Baritone voice,
to a high-pitched Tenor
Menehune are a mythological race of Dwarf people,
in Hawaiian tradition, who are said to live in the
deep forests and hidden valleys of the Hawaiian
Islands, hidden and far away from human settlements.
They built temples, fishponds, roads and homes.
Here is a story told to me by a gentleman from Lanai.
When I was a young child, age 12, I was in the hills of
Lanai when I spotted something in a brush patch.
I walked casually, forward to this patch and met a small
Menehune, who I found was also 12 years old. I was of
short stature, about 3 feet tall and the Menehune, was shorter.
I estimated he may have been 2 feet tall.
We talked for a while, then he said he had to go. I never saw him
again, until I was about 60 years old. Fate stepped in and
I met him once more. He was still 2 feet tall and didn't appear
to have aged. I recall my father saying, the Menehune, grew,
at a slower rate than humans and didn't age like the rest of us.
I am much older now, living at a retirement home in the Seattle area.
I hope to return to Lanai to see if my Menehune friend will be at the
same place, I last saw him.
An old writing, for you.
I touch you and I feel
The softness of dew drops,
Lying on blades of grass.
I listen and I hear
The sound of water,
Tumbling over rock and sand.
When you lie near me,
I smell the scent of love,
Mixed with jasmine and another
Fragrance, much like the smell
Of new mown hay.
Soft lights, flickering candles,
Music, wine and you,
Gracing these harsh surroundings
Of steel and plastic.
Caught up in a world of
Fast moving events
With no time to slow down
And enjoy.
A withered tree,
branches askew,
moss covered limbs,
reminding me of who?
Wayward branches,
straight in the air,
reminds me of you,
when you spiked your hair.