He lays there at my feet,
Deaf and nearly blind.
Wearing upon him
All the traces,
Of his 15 summers,
(105 in people years.)
His coat grown sparse,
A body gone frail and thin.
Fatty benign tumors below his skin.
A worn tired expression,
Almost always visible,
On his still sweet old dog face.

Yet there is something regal,
About this aged fellow.
With the dignity of maturity
He moves about his domain,
With a cautious measured pace,
And conserved energy suited
To the elderly among us.

He prefers one mounded spot,
In our yard, on high ground,
On the greenest grass,
In the summer sun,
That restores and warms
His old bones.

Diligently working the breeze
with his still receptive nose,
Sensing the things he can,
No longer see or hear.
Appreciating and feeling all
That he has left to him.
This likely his last summer.
And he and I both know it.
We two old souls can sense,
The end is drawing near.

I reach down rub and scratch,
His soft Yellow Labrador ears,
Tail rhythmically thumping the deck,
He succumbs and leans into my touch.
Closes his eyes and receives my love.

He is my son’s and grandson’s dog.
The first dog my son ever owned.
The companion that has slept
At the foot of my two grandson’s beds,
Since both of those boys were born.
Protector, playmate and devoted friend.
Without question, he shall always remain,
A most important part of,
This our own little,
Family Of Man.

Impatiently waiting,
Sometimes pacing,
Like a hungry Lion
Expecting his meal.
Obsessed and fixated,
Waiting for the smart phone to ring.

And so it has come to this,
Desiring your voice,
And image,
At least twice a day,
Waiting for you to engage,
Our Face Time on a tiny screen.
Living on Love
Long distance.

Alone we were born and alone we die.
Sure Mom is there in the beginning
And yet the journey is solitary.
Unless of course, Twins we be.
We do our best to attach ourselves
To Mother’s nurturing embrace,
her warmth and needed sustenance.
She tries her best to be our friend.
But we cannot hide forever,
Behind Mom’s skirts and loving arms.

Life beckons and we must comply.
Upon a road that’s rough,
filled with many turns and holes.
We journey on as best we can,
Searching for a new Best Friend.

People come and people go,
Searching for that one above all,
The one we hope and want to stay.
True Best Friend,
Dreamed of Lover,
Living Mate of Soul.

We come close now and then,
Kiss some Frogs and begin again.
Searching always searching,
For that one, so special friend.

Time is running out,
Perhaps we merely settle,
Someone is there,
The clock is ticking.
Convincing ourselves that we have
Found the one above all others,
Sheltering in their shadow for a time.
Profess our Love,
Say the words that bind,
Lay awhile in Love’s embrace.
If we are lucky,
Have a child.
The circle completed,
As it was meant to be?

That should be enough,
But it seldom ever is.
Sadly Love has a way of ending,
Even soul mates move along.

Then we’re raising a child alone.
Our best efforts pay off,
All too soon that child is grown,
Off to find their own Best Friend.

Once again we walk alone.
On our face age starts to show,
Pain commences to plague our bones.
Our once steady pace,
Now begins to slow.
Tick tock, Tick tock,
That damnable clock.  
Real desperation setting in,
Prior to our accepted resignation.

Then one day unexpected,
A new, old face appears,
Real friendship and Love is ours again.
Hand in hand we walk and laugh.
Rediscover the magic of making Love.
A little more slowly and carefully,
Then we ever did before.
At last, finding what we’d,
Always been searching for.

Too good to last,
It doesn’t,
Fate steps in and takes our friend and lover,
Once more we journey on alone.

What did we truly expect?
Nothing is forever.
That we knew real love,
Even once,
That’s Life as complete,
And fulfilled as any other's.

Actually, a Happy Ending.
Even aloneness has its merits.

Sitting on my porch,
A refreshing morning
Breeze gentling blowing,
Conveying aromatic scents
Of yard plants blooming,
The hum of fluttering Bee’s
Seeking Nectar among them.
The songs of early birds
punctuating all this convivial congeniality.
You can not purchase a ticket
to this particular show at any price.
Other than say,
An invitation to sit beside me.

Young dog at my feet,
Him with full tummy,
Basking in the sun.
I can almost see a smile on his face.  
Already he knows how to live.

There is tranquility here,
In my yard,
Among these plants and trees,
This grass so green, still fresh
With drops of recent rain a dripping,
The ethereal scent,
Of now wet earth arising.

No real need to go a traveling,
Far or even near a field.
I have almost all I need and want,
Right here in my yard,
on this porch of mine.

There is one other strong sensation here,
It is my feelings of utter contentment.
The simple things are always the best.

Look friends, this is a only a lighted screen.
On which people paint their dreams.
Spill out their fears,
Perhaps cleanse their souls.
Words printed not in stone,
Gone with the strike of a key.
Meaningless to all,
But perhaps their own creator.
Never intended to live forever.
As if they were wispy clouds in the sky,
Shifting, changing and then goodbye.
Does the maker of those clouds care
Who sees them there, need comment
of awe and splendor, an adoring audience
from below to lavish him with praise?
My guess is he does not,
Like our thoughts on this screen,
impermanent and fleeting,
His are flights of artful heavenly whimsy,  
A clear endeavor of self expression,
Not meant to last.
Put up there on his canvas,
Merely for his own enjoyment.

You know if I am all wrong and there is
a heaven and some how I end up there,
I'm sure there will be three dogs waiting
right there for me.

Rommel my Rottweiler, ******* and tan face
and head, a body like a Bradley Tank, always
watching, always loyal. Liked to stick his big
wet nose up ladies skirts and sniff what they
were hiding there. And like his master, he never
met one he did not like. Self appointed Body
Guard to my little boy and me. Would run
through smoke and flames to protect our little
family of just three, Ian, Rommel and me.

Then there is Rocky, a Boxer breed,  the best
of the best. He never made a misstep, always
knew the way. Calm and intuitive in an almost
spooky way. Could read my mind, anticipate
my moods and moves. A tower of canine power,
gentle and loving companion and friend.
I could wade a stream, casting a fly, go for
miles and never wonder where he was, turn
my head and there he stood, on a boulder,
or up on a cliff. He would follow me anywhere
and never ever stray. He was a ROCK and
thus earned his name.

Then there would be Max. Steady as a summer
rain, gentle as a baby lamb. He displayed a
kind of affability seldom seen in man, or dare
I say, even beast. Soft eyes filled with love,
you always knew where you stood. He lived
only to be near to me and what ever I would do.
I dared not speak too harshly to him, as if my
words alone could actually crush his bones.
Far too sensitive for any dog or man. Gentle
and kind as a baby lamb. Open a door and
there he'd be, always waiting just for me.

And if I deserve another chance to join
their most exceptionally congenial company,
a very lucky man I would truly be.

And how could that place be anywhere but
"HEAVEN" ?

Oh look, look again on what we see,
Another war on ABC and CNBC TV.
Black hooded thugs waving AK-47’s
Jam Packed into little Pickup Trucks,
Moving in, onto Bagdad street,
It all looks so very familiar.

What is it with we Human Beings?
Why do we continue to do such things?
Back in my day it was Viet Nam,
The suits made a case for war,
And we young answered the call.
3 million Vietnamese and over 58,000
Of us died in that mess,
All for what,
A Civil War?
Not our business.
Profits for Corporations,
Big and small?

Who are we to Police the World?
Who appointed us to that dire role?

Then it was “Desert Storm”
And we mobilized all over again.
Rolled over the sands and those
Third World people,
As if they were not even there.
It’s said 100,000 of them died.
But the guy that pulled their Strings,
That **** fool survived,
To play again yet another day.

The peoples in the Middle East
Hated us for our intervention,
And began to sing songs of revenge.

Fast forward 10 years of hate and
Resentment and some of them
Flew our own planes into our cities,
Killed our non combatant people
Without so much as a warning,
And absolutely no remorse.
Stealing our national innocents.

Excuses and lies were made,
Fingers pointed in the wrong direction,
Now it was us plotting revenge.
WMD’s in the hands of a Mad Man
We were told,
“Get him before he can use his missiles.
Him and them,
That attacked our Cities,
Killed our people.
How dare they do such a thing?"

Once again our young men and women
Answered the call.
And once again over a 100,000 of that
Dictator’s people died, along with
Far too many of our own children.
But the “Lie” made some big American
Corporations rich beyond belief.
And gasoline went to over
$4.00 a gallon and is still ascending.

Oh look, on further study and investigation,
That guy and his country had no WMD’s
And indeed may not have actually been,
Behind The Twin Towers tragic end.
Afganstan “They” now too pointed,
That’s the backward 3ed world place,
Harboring a rich Saudi guy named Bin.
He and his gang, they are the ones,
Run ‘em to ground and break their bones.
Suspend our laws and stretch the truth,
Get it done, forget the price,
Break some rules and ignore,
Our Constitution and even our laws.
Behind closed doors, they whisper,
“Need more men, mobilize the Reserves.”
“The little people will never tolerate a Draft”.

How many people die this time?
We don’t even know the price.
It’s not yet done over there.
Money spent over 3 Trillion,
More than spent to fight
The entire Second World War.
Yes I said “Trillion”
Now how many new schools,
Roads and bridges here,
At home would that buy I wonder?

We left Bagdad declaring things “done”.
Installed yet another Corrupt,
Puppet Army and Government.
Like Viet Nam,
Our Generals all said we’d won.

Be it an Iraq or Afghanistan,
Who can possibly rule a nation of Tribes.
Of people that can’t even agree on the
Same shared religion belief.
People that hate each other more,
Then they even hate us.

No one but an iron ****** ****** Dictator,
A Tribal Chief who enforces his rule with
Corruption, Brutality and Death
Can rule such people.
Too long ingrained is their
Mode of hating and living.
Too clouded and old
Their desire for revenge
And corruption.

So add it all up, too many deaths,
Trillions of dollars spent.
And in the end, has returned to
Where it all started again.

Political deceit,
Poor judgment,
Or Personal greed?
Why do our leaders
Keep making the same mistakes?
I don’t have the answer.

If I don’t end up in Gitmo,
Boarded, with water in my mouth,
Or locked up in the Pen,
For expressing my own opinion,
Perhaps things aren’t yet as bad
As things could possibly get.

I do however regret that all these years
With we little people answering the call,
With all the fighting, waste,
Needless ****** death and all,
It seems to have been for nothing more,
Than the egos and stupidly,
Of a few rich and high born men,
Big Corporation profits,
And lustful greed for the all mighty dollar.