Deep in the forest,
where you'd never go,
there dwells a creature,
you may not know.
A creature quite short
or stocky to see.
A grumpy one certainly,
it reminded me of me.
His name is Badger,
He roots through the soil,
looking for some food
before it does spoil.

She came up to me.
her eyes filled with dread.
She had been sleeping,
The sleep of the dead.

A sleep so deep;
no thoughts, no dreams,
no tossing or turning,
not what it seems.
For centuries it's happened,
that is well known,
the deepest of sleep,
when tired to the bone.

Why in this life,
that used to be swell,
has become so much
like a living Hell?

Rough are the words
I write for thee.
Covering many subjects
for you and me.
Where do these words
come into line?
From out of the depth
where words are entwined,
from the tip of my toes
to the depth of my Soul,
entertaining you and others,
has always been my goal.

Oh you poor little slug,
you're not an insect,
nor are you a bug.
You'll chew all the leaves
of the colorful Primrose.
Would you please stop,
or is it anything goes?
Out comes the Sluggo
or the grey goop Deadline,
to keep you from eating
those pretty flowers of mine.

Where do thou go,
when you're talking to I?
Your eyes become dim,
your breath is a sigh.
A sigh so forlorn
that I won't even try,
as I watch you fade
without a goodbye.

A one hit wonder,
is that what you are?
Surrounded by fans,
both near and far.

Your rise to fame,
your being a star,
is remarkable now,
when seen from afar.

The most beautiful women,
the fanciest car.
we now know you
are a Rising Star.

Raining so hard
most difficult to see
wet feet for me

Sometimes I sleep "The Sleep of the Dead"
with no thoughts or dreams in my head.
An absence of words, so deep inside
stay within my head; are trying to hide.
When I awake from this stupor so deep,
I then know what it is like to sleep.
Unlike the times I get up at three
as the words in my head will remind me,
scribe down to paper, in my notebook,
the words that appear haven't been forsook.
Later that morning, I'll re-read the words,
striking out those are simply absurd.

I wish I could see,
what she does,
through her brown eyes.
I can't, so therefor
I now must surmise.
She see's something else,
that she cannot describe,
which frustrates her, every way.
This disease is so cruel,
for her to live every day.
It is why she tells me
"I will soon be going away."

I hear it again,
I hear it now.
Telling me words,
Telling me how.
Letting me know,
How very absurd,
When letting go,
Of this place,
It is very nice,
In being seen.
Where ever I go,
I know you,
Can't you see,
That knowing who,
It must be,
I love you,
Do you love me?

Laying in bed, words all a jumble;
I'm not writing them down,
for I will not tumble,
into this pit of worry
or feeling sorry for me.
Oh dear God, help me out of this mess
of seeing my beloved, slipping away.
What can I do, on this miserable day?
My love for her is still there;
She knows me not, I'll not despair,
for I know her and always will.
My love for her gives me a thrill.
I know these words, corny they are,
but they're my words, they surely are.

Into the night with
darkest of sky,
he waited patiently for
the Moon to pass by.
The brightness, came slow
and gradually.
He could see where to
step, walking gingerly.
Trying to be quiet so he
wouldn't be heard.
Creeping so closely to
that elusive bird.
One that is a beauty,
known all around.
This was the place where
it could be found.
The colorful feathers reminded
him of you,
when in pursuit of the elusive,
beautiful, Cockatoo.

Why do I feel alone at night,
when she lies so close to me?
It's because she knows not my name,
and that is our fate and destiny.

Shades of Shale,
a flat type
of volcanic rock,
that would slide
down the hill
where ever you walked.
Yards of rock,
on a side hill,
careful to be
on Nature's spill.
Take one step,
balance a must,
shale will slide,
gliding on dust.
Down the hill,
so carefully,
learning to walk
or how to ski.
Noisy it was,
a rattling sound,
frightening the animals
who were still around.

I didn't know; nothing was said,
at that moment. A sense of dread
fell over me. The news isn't good,
he said to me. I now understood,
when he said Lung Cancer, Stage three.

Some days it seems, I have been
married my entire life
to a beautiful woman
who is now my wife.
Of all the things that I could be,
only happened because of she.
The support she gave so readily,
was done with elegance and dignity.
What will happen, when she goes away?
I suppose I will know on that fateful day.

Over the river, through the trees, they came.
We were being over ran, in this war game.
We fought in the trenches, side by side,
but at battle end, we all had died.
Please say a prayer for my dear friend,
He fought bravely for you until the end.

Of all things, in this World I've seen,
there has never been anything
like a well oiled machine.
The sound of that clickety clack,
raised the hairs on your back.
A clatter of valves, camshaft of course,
the exhaust of the rear engine,
air cooled 911 Porsche.

I know not what I write,
I know not at all.
The words that pour out
are not mine I write,
for there seem to be no
thought in my mind,
other than writing the words.
Hopefully they're not trite
but have meaning to you,
it's for you that I care,
no matter the issue,
no matter the time,
my wish for you
is Peace and be kind.