He Saw Her Again
• 04/21/24 at 01:11PM •He saw her again,
it was yesterday,
Was she a visitor,
or did she, here stay?
Unanswered questions,
not his to say.
When he saw her again,
his heart melted away.
He saw her again,
it was yesterday,
Was she a visitor,
or did she, here stay?
Unanswered questions,
not his to say.
When he saw her again,
his heart melted away.
Concentrate on the items in life
Long ago, in bye gone days,
when times were cold and hard,
there lived a man, a lonely man
who lived without regard,
for the thoughts of others.
Solitary, singular, lonely man,
please think of your amends,
for if you stay the way you are
you will soon have no friends.
So be you kind to those who are
the core that you surround
and you will find that those who care
will still want you around.
Memories of friendships
are stuck in his head.
A need to write them down now,
or I will forget them instead.
He was a man remembering,
so many others,
be they Mothers or Fathers,
Sisters or brothers.
He was quite fickle,
in many ways,
for he loved most people,
until the end of his days.
He was lonely,
but had many friends.
When asked a question,
he'd say simply, It all depends.
An old writing from January 19, 2018,
in a different style but stirll true today.
My mind is filled with clutter
like the top of someone's desk.
Do you suppose or I propose,
please don't call me today.
It's meeting time,
go stand in line
and hurry up!
But wait!
Go get in line
one more time,
as if we're all darn sheep.
Pollution is in everything,
we eat, breathe, drink,
hear and see.
Keep in mind the
things we do,
on every working day,
like filing words on paper
with thoughts that are past.
It would be nice to
be with you
or even run away,
to some forgotten,
Native place
where all adults
can play
while children work
to support the rich
and you and I
can stay
and spend a happy
hour or two
and never go away
from each other.
For friends are welcome
all the time.
I told you my mind was
a clutter,
I just didn't say,
I would utter,
all these thoughts
to thee.
Written prior to my wife being
admitted to a Memory Care facility,
approximately a year after she was
diagnosed with Early Onset Dementia.
Touch me softly,
with the flowers,
grown from within
a gardens love.
Feel new grass,
wet with dew,
sparkling from,
the rising sun.
Love me sweetly
with the passion
of stolen moments,
taken from yesterdays,
unfilled dreams.
Moderation
is the answer,
to the results of
the excesses in
our short life.
Dinking wine from bottles
or with glass in hand
makes me feel ecstatic,
makes me feel so grand,
until morning.
Be good to others,
"The good book reads."
yet here we are, engaged in war.
What is the life,
which we feel each day?
Should we join in
or find another way?
Hands of red,
heart of gold.
Telling this story,
will never get old,
unless our daily routine,
which is done in life,
is useless work,
with little strife.
When I was young
and very small,
I discovered,
a small door behind a wall.
The door about 3 feet high,
and 2 feet wide,
was found behind a wall,
in the basement, the right side.
The door with a door knob,
was locked, with a key.
No markings on the lock,
which I could see.
I played in the basement,
every day,
never seeing another
there to play.
One time, after dinner,
I'd gone to the basement.
I fell asleep, waking to
a sad lament.
I wish I knew someone,
I could play,
with, for I was lonely,
almost everyday.
The noise was coming
from the small door.
I knocked, saying,
please tell me more.
(continued)
It was silent,
without a reply.
So I knocked,
for another try.
The door swung,
open wide and inside
was a young boy.
His name was Clyde.
Clyde was small,
about like me.
He said he was from
across the Sea.
He was 18 years old,
about 10 years more than me.
We played together,
incessantly.
When I left, to go
away to school.
College was the
dividing rule.
Many years later,
I returned and went
to the small door,
behind the wall in the basement.
continued
Many years later,
I returned home,
and went to the basement,
where I found the door.
I knocked on the door,
it opened wide,
and there was my
old friend, Clyde.
He looked the
same to me,
a proud member,
of the Minihane.
Minihane, a small Hawaiian,
reported be from another
world, coming to Earth,
and part of Hawaiian Culture
and now of Hawaiian Legend.