Across this land of broken dreams.
Across this land of abject sorrow,
Comes now a better day,
A more beautiful day on the morrow.

Long may you walk, this Earth profound,
from your early life, to elder days.
A cruel World, with some beautiful times,
with words, now spent, from memory banks,
of empty bins and shelves all bare.
No action now. No one to give
or provide aid to how we lived.

Search you not, for the shiniest bead,
it has no value; it will not feed,
your empty belly, with the food you need,
so drink the water, plant the seed.
This is a problem. Have you agreed?

A simple verse,
much like a curse,
is good for me
but her life is worse.
The suffering she does;
confusing to see,
causes me much hurt,
for what will soon be.

The rain falls;
laying in puddles,
filling street gutters,
as the drains,
overflow; bubbling up,
as if saying,
"No more rain."
The ground is saturated;
soil wet and deep,
but the sound
of the rain,
on our roof,
makes for a restful
night of sleep.

If you’re like most Americans, there’s a good chance you’re going to wear a cloth mask today. Doing so makes sense...... Continue reading 

I must be the proverbial,
old fool, of a man,
who's taken in, by others,
with a money making plan.
This story hasn't happened to me,
but I have received e mails,
directed to me so personally.
Promising riches, you can't believe.
Just send us some money
and the fortune will be,
put into your bank account,
your friend at the Embassy.

Random thoughts, fill the air,
filled with love and despair.
Be they good or be they unsound,
there they lay on frozen ground.
Does it matter? Not to me,
for I am here, loving thee.

A well is a subject, too deep
for a shallow mind.
I wrote these words,
not to be unkind,
but to remind us all,
of the actions we take.
All have consequences
and words can break.
Every reaction, creates an event,
which may create another reaction.
A new result created by a response
from your action.
Confusing? Sure. Just pick your word
usage, carefully.

A fortnight ago,
it said in the book,
so I decided I should
take another look,
to determine casually
what did the word mean
or would I use it
in my next writing.
I looked up the word;
this is what I found.
"A period of two weeks,
used after the name of a day,
to indicate something will take
place, two weeks after, that day.

An exercise for the mind.
In Latin, the word "Porta",
means gate or door,
while the word, "Bella"
is the word for war.
My memories of Latin,
are not good, but poor,
so I best not write
about Latin words any more.

When I was young.
Young like a child,
I would go every where,
for I was quite wild.
There was no curfew,
at least not to me,
for when it became dark,
I knew where to be.
Home with my loved ones,
similar to right now.
Safe and protected
and still knowing how,
to take care of you.
So much like a child,
but you're no longer allowed
to run free and be wild.

I hate this life, as I have
started to succumb
towards a callous behavior'
with little aplomb.
I am not kind. I am just
a big jerk,
for I'm so tired my responsibility
I may shirk.
What good reason, is there for me
being casual with thee.
You don't deserve this life
we have shared.
I need to treat you softer
and be prepared.