The lashes gently flutter, over eyes of crystal blue
I’m waiting so impatiently, to share the world with you.
Your crawl has turned to walking, as winter turns to spring
Every moment the blues eyes stare, there’s something new to bring.
A smile as warm as summer’s sun and a touch as soft as air
Makes a heart in distant rooms, wish that it could share.
I hear your laugh and feel you near, when I dare to dream
Sometimes blue eyed angels, are exactly as they seem.
Your questions go unspoken as does your inner song
But those who know of angels, know this won’t last long.
Your words and songs will soon be heard, by all of us who care
An angels’ voice will carry far and always there to share.
You’ll grow and learn as days go by, giving as you get
My little blue eyed angel, just hasn’t started yet.
Soon your smile will be face to face, warming all you see
I pray my blue eyed angel… that one of them is me.

A monster came out from under my bed,
all hairy and ugly and oh so red.
He ran to my closet and ate all my clothes
then back to my bed he was tickling my toes.
I was so afraid he might suddenly eat me,
There was nowhere to go where he couldn’t see.
He threw all my toys in a great big sack
And told me meanly they’d never be back.
Then he looked at my desk and suddenly smiled
And seemed to be happy or maybe beguiled.
He looked in my eyes and pointed at me,
“give me your laptop and I will let you be”
I loved my laptop a gift from my mom
I stared in his eyes feeling so dumb.
I was no longer scared now I was mad,
Monsters aren’t fun when they behave so bad.
So I took out my bat and put on my new shoes
and said to the monster, “guess what you lose”.
One swat on the noggin and he was out cold
I keep my toys because I was bold.
It pays to be brave and never have fear
But be careful at night when a monster is near.

HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN
to my Grandaughters
Copyright Jan/2014
WHC

I remember running to first, faster then a scream
Now that kind of speed is just a foolish dream.
Age is such a vicious foe, slower by the day
My anger yells at speed of light with nothing real to say.
I still dream of hitting first against the burning sun
Each Saturday was just a game, a war that must be won.
The ball was hit just like my soul soaring in the air
Its always true life is foul or sometimes it is fair.
I loved to hear my father’s yell when the play was on my turf
The yells from distant fans of mine screaming for the smurf.
Even munchkins have to age according to the word of  Oz
But baseball dreams have no rules and  it's sons they have no laws.

We all have this fear, when today is not remembered tomorrow
We worry that we miss happiness or sometimes bitter sorrow.
They put names on things like this but none will ever fit.
So here I am forgetting , not remembering where I sit.
I can't see my children's faces the way I used to do
it is not like there are many, there is only just a few.
Their names are now escaping me on every other day
and when I can't remember I don't know what to say.
My brain has suddenly collapsed on me and so I gently cry
perhaps tomorrow when I see the world I promise I will try.
Losing all your yesterdays is such a horrible  lonely thing,
for all their loving memories were always there to sing.
Now they have drifted far away and I am so alone
I wonder if there is things I've done for which I must atone.
The good is presently  gone as is all the bitterly bad,
that is why this monster has made me so terribly sad.
Please try and recall my face and please say my name out loud
so I will know who I am and feel just a little bit proud.

WHC....copyright/2014

Some go out in a blaze of glory, some with a crazy, sad story.
I am not sure which I have chosen but it may get very gory.
I don’t care any longer about the skies I see
Or the dreams I’ve had that cease to be.
I am tired, sore and I hurt in mind and in the fairy soul
I know at this late stage I never will be whole.
I do not want to urge it on but simply to not worry
I want those who give a **** to know there was no hurry.
Music sounds dull, words are boring, what’s left to say
all that’s left is for a fool like me to pick a day.
No more pills, no checking, no pecking no heeding
no worrying, no trying and paining when you stop succeeding.
There are no magic cures for us, just pretenders selling dreams
and the rest get rich selling us on their schemes.
I will go when I go, doing just what I choose to do
Then the task of being someone special will suddenly be through.


Copyright/1/2014

The animals left the zoo one day to have a big parade.
The plans for all and rules to follow had previously been made.
The elephants led the grand array trunk to tail they were,
while lions followed in a pride, glistening up their fur.
The monkeys hitched on giraffes, sitting upon their backs,
than the hyenas laughing hard came running in noisy packs
The snakes they slithered down the crowded street,
of course they slide because they have no feet.
The zebras striped and all in line were such a sight to see.
Then came a group of tigers strong,smiling with their glee.
It is so sad for us to know this lasts for just one day.
Then all the friendly animals will not parade or play.
But boys and girls can stay the same and be gentle all the while,
and live each day in happiness wearing a loving smile.

The morning of a special day,
And the whole town gathered there.
In all their Sunday finery,
the best poor folk could wear.
They came from off the hillside
and the main street of the town,
to watch the kind of justice
that would cut this Evil down.
They stood four deep in pouring rain
and waited for the scream
that would end Evil’s bitter life
and haunted every dream.
Somewhere in the angry crowd
a woman cried in vain
so full of love this lady
that she suffered Evil’s pain.
Children laughed and snickered
as Evil walked the ramp
looking cold and hungry
as his clothes were torn and damp.
One on either side of him
to hold him in his place
as the moment feared forever
caused his heart to race.
The crowd was stirring quietly
as he knelt upon the wood,
mumbling prayers to someone
as quickly as he could.
Flashing silver, scarlet blood
The ****** of the day
the crowd was simply overjoyed
as they turned to walk away.

It seems like an eternity since we last spoke a real word
something that didn't hurt and wasn't absurd.
I can't remember that  real ******* feeling
I can hardly tell because of blind love, the walls from the ceiling.
Give me some clues, a valid trail to follow
not these bitter words that I am forced to swallow.
You are in or you're out, my cracked heart needs to know
it would not be easy but I can pack and go.
Disaster strikes at the strangest times and  will always pick
an unexpected moment like a red clay brick.
Hurt me or **** me, bury me deep or come home
There is no point in this two hearts on the roam.
All good things come to a vicious end
just like a strong old willow tree will finally bend.

WHC
Copyright Jan.6/2014

As I lean against the windswept rock, a memory comes to me
of the days I spent on "The Courage Son" and the friends I lost at sea.
The Courage Son was a sturdy ship, built of solid oak,
it moved along on God's sweet wind , not on steam or smoke.
The crew that manned this vessel strong, were the dearest friends I've known.
But they didn't live to tell the tale or reap the seeds they'd sown.
The bravest of men shall never return from the ocean home they've won,
but I the lone survivor will remember what they've done.
On the 23rd day of January, in Eighteen Forty-nine,
the men and I were down below sharing bread and wine.
When a storm came up the likes of which none had ever seen.
The sails were soon a tangled mass and the ship began to lean.
The heavens seemed a sheet of black with cracks of blinding light,
a mast was struck and hit my head destroying my sense of sight.
While my friends were scrambling fore and aft with a speed propelled by fear,
my life was saved by a brave young man by the name of Samuel Wier.
He led me to a lifeboat filled with food and gear,
enough to last a single man for six months of a  year.
I felt my body carried and lowered in a boat
I realized without my sight, that I'd  now been put afloat.
I couldn't see the reasoning, for the pain had blurred my head
I was rolled and tossed so very close, to finally being dead.
The waves that banged against the boat made it hard for me to hear
the fire raging on the ship and screams that stemmed from fear.
My boat was adrift for hours before, The Courage Son went down,
I pictured the sea opening wide to accept her oaken gown.
I was rescued by a freighter just off a foreign coast
white and ill with fever I looked a certain ghost.
Now it's just my old white cane and the smells of the open sea
that recall the storm the devil sent and what it took from me.

I wait as patient as a man of age can be
I do not know just what I expect to see
I sleep the sleep of a painful aging soul
knowing it is far too late to be whole.
The world I know is trembling badly
I hold on tightly with my heart beating madly.
I would dance to one more lonely song
but being old all my steps would be wrong.
Maybe I will be luckier the next time
or maybe be a beggar clutching his last dime.
Tomorrow just remains unknown and blank
but the smell of impending death is rank.
Will I be the lucky one and skate on thin ice
or will I be the one that pays for all his vice
That is what tomorrow holds for me
so I will simply have to wait and see.

The crowded streets seemed empty now, beneath the noon day heat,
as the devils and the invalids wait 'til dusk to meet.
Then the sunlight fades and the neon signs, attract the social crowd,
the silence dies and an echo's born as the deadly night grows loud.
A ***** blonde in a ***** coat, leans on a grey stone wall,
waiting to lead her regulars down a dark and dingy hall.
While a blind man steers his cane ahead to aid his weary feet,
he gropes his way to a barstool  where he and bottle meet.
The piercing sound of a siren is muffled by angry tongues,
as an old drunk falls in an alleyway clutching his heaving lungs.
The sight of the city from the fifteenth floor turns the heart to a giant pump,
as a ****** high in every way prepares for his final jump.
Dance hall girls line the stage and kick their legs in time,
as the prestige men in business suits order gin and lime.
An aging man with glass in hand finds friendship in the night
bringing back his childhood through the shouts of a barroom fight.
The pain goes on 'til the lights go out and the wolves all head for home
for those who have no place to rest the sidewalk is there to roam.

I sit late at night and listen to both new and old songs that move my mood and my soul. They never heal it , just move it. I take heed of lyrics and tap along to melodies, I feel the beat and know that when it's over I will be the same. The same sad man with a burden and fears, with anxiety and sadness. I will carry the heavy load of regret. Mistakes made, bad decisions, angry moments and perhaps the happiness that partying allows.
I will never recover....no one does. The emptiness and sorrow are lifelong companions. They will be with us when we wake and when we battle to sleep.
Do you want an answer ? There isn't one ...it's called life.
We either live it and survive or we give in and jump or swallow or shoot.
Bad options based on history, but they sometimes fly through the open door of our minds. The key is to close that door and seal it tight.
Any kind of life is better than death. Courage is available ...we just have to buy it with work, pain and patience. Hang in there, that is what we do.
WHC
2013

So musical notes fall upon my heart like raindrops
I can only breath again when the music finally stops.
It moves my very being like a sunset on a summer night
but yet it leaves me frozen at a sudden dreamlike sight.
I feel each note as it patters gently on my heart
 I hardly notice when it stops and when it will start.
It rips a scar across my weary soul but heals as it goes,
 the energy I gather from the notes is easy to show.
  I can climb a frightening mountain in the rain,
  as long as I have the warming music to ease my pain.
  We should all have notes that fall unto us in time
   like words that always fall into sweet and dazzling rhyme.
      
      WHC/2013
      copyright

As a rubber ball
the child’s heart is bounced
from concrete walls
while courtroom antics
are played out for spite by all.
Finger pointing, lying, loud voices
and between times an ice cream cone for a boy.
A boy or perhaps a toy
waits with this one or another, while robes and
books decide on a father or a mother.
Perhaps a Saturday father will be born, for rules
are rules and stated clear, they read that a mother’s
love is best.
Pay no mind to children’s love or reality.
Pacing floors and clouded eyes, stare at yellowed prints
adorning walls of aged wood and words.
Father speaks in turn of days gone by, promises love and speaks
of a son not a boy.
“Times may change” a voice whispers to the trembling man,
“the past may not endure”.
A miracle today they all say, as the majestic rooms hold
mumblings by the score.
Hand in tiny hand they move on out, to streets of hard cement,
where dreams are waiting to be built.
No Saturday father today, perhaps another time.

Fighting demons daily and avoiding dreams at night
can cause ones loss of hearing and sometimes loss of sight.
Reaching out for a branch to grab or a rope for you to hold
makes one feel so weak and yet so terribly bold.
I am waiting and calling for a lifeline to save my hidden soul
but all I get is promises that swear I will be whole.
Where can you turn, who can you really trust
what can you do, the sun gets hot and your heart will rust.
There is no god to throw a line so you just try to stay awake
sometimes it  isn't even really for your own sake.
You fight the vicious world and bleed until your done
when it comes right down to it you're the only one.

They say age is a number and its true until you reach a high one
then fear sets in and dreams become a terror up until sun.
You don't want to go but sometimes staying is not so good,
you would like to have a real answer, what you'd do if you could.
Some folks grow very old and live to share their time
then others have a shortened while living on a smoke and a dime.
I hear the music playing every night as I close my weary eyes
wishing I had told more truth and many fewer lies.
Ambition can be a killer or a highway to the stars
but I have had so much in 60 years I am all the way to Mars.
I do not want to go an easy way, I want to make a noise
I want to shout my words to all, with a little class and poise.
If I can't then I guess I will stay, at least until tomorrow
I am not sure about the constant pain and sorrow.

Copyright...WHC
Jan./2014

Silence spread through the small gray room
as the heads all dropped in apparent gloom.
They all stood up as the music played,
and walked to the front where the body laid.
One by one they stared at the face
solemnly still in a reverent grace.
First comes the wife who knew him so well
her mind held the secret she never could tell.
Next came the son the eldest of two,
when the time was right he knew what to do.
Last came the mother who was so far away,
she just couldn’t see why it happened that day.
The man lay smiling, gray and serene,
he seemed to be waiting for what might have been.
His best suit covered the wound in his chest
that had taken him now to his permanent rest.
His oldest had held him while his wife pushed the knife
with one swift movement they snuffed out his life.
Hating this man for the things he had done
ashamed to be known as his wife and his son.
No one else knew what happened that night,
everyone thought he was killed in a fight.
Could the subconscious erase the hard fact
of a mother and son and their murderous act?
The greatest of motives just can’t justify
the death of a father and a hideous lie.
Guilt could be seen on the face of the boy
he didn’t share in her freedom and joy.
It took four days for the boy to repent
and face up to the woman he’d grown to resent.
His hands wet with fear he opened the door,
he pulled the steel trigger and she fell to the floor.
He waited a moment his mind filled with pain,
put the gun to his head and pulled it again.
Two more plots in the cold damp ground
as the fear of truth makes a deafening sound.

I been thinking a lot about this **** growing old
Can’t eat what I want and my feet get cold.
Don’t have much money but I can’t fix that
Don’t eat much junk but I still get fat.
Don’t get to travel or see no stuff
Even getting out of bed is getting **** rough.
Gotta  watch the ***** and I don’t have ***
can’t mow the lawn or build no decks.
The government says gonna help me out
That's some **** I seriously doubt
But I have to hang in no other choice
Can’t start screaming or I’ll lose my old voice.
So I sit on my couch like a bump on a log
And stare cross the room at my nice little dog.
He seems so relaxed curled up like a snail
Closing his eyes and wagging his tail.
Wish I could be just like him
Sleeping and eating being young and slim.
But the facts of the matter are a slap in the face
The old man is destined to die in this place.
So I’m thinking I’ll try the party route
If I gotta go I’ll be happy going out.

Sadness comes in all flavours and hits harder some days than others.
It makes a sky darker and the sun further away like long lost brothers.
Sadness can make your very soul tremble at the break of dawn
it can make your heart burn when you know that she is gone.
Sadness plays no favorites, it gives no special odds or choice
it jumps up at a moment's notice and screams with a bitter voice.
Sadness is what we try to avoid, what we all try to escape
like a corner mugging or a vicious painful ****.
It's out there, lurking in the darkness, calling out our name
pretending that its happiness and trying to be the same.
No warning is sufficient no alarm gives us enough time
there is no chance to skirt the pain or miss the crime.
Sadness is the anxiety that kills our soul and heart
now we wait to see just when the old car rolls in to start.

Blood drips slowly through the tubes of my heart, like a lazy plumbers mistake,
I wonder as I listen to the gentle drops is it maybe for my own sake?
Do we all feel love's pain  as a stab to the heart, or is that where we normally start?
I hear voices in the night, some cry and others sing
I hear bells in the morning, some dull and others ring.
Everything is a sign of something else, rolling in our head,
maybe we wonder the difference...alive or maybe dead.
Throbbing souls create a drumbeat in harmony and doubt,
those of us so used and done are feeling sadly left out.
The parade will march right by us and leave us at the curb,
like a statue old and worn that we should never ever disturb.

Listening as the gentle breeze of whispers drift past my deafened ears.
Dreaming  as the whistling wind burns my soul and reminds me of fears
where do we go from here, too many games, too many songs.
Too many plans gone astray, not enough rights and too many wrongs.
Mountains too high to climb, rivers that can’t be crossed.
Lakes of silken glass and oceans that long to be tossed.
Raindrops of glass clatter on my roof, with echo’s taunting
life’s not all that fearful just terribly sad and daunting.
So here I go again, flying without any wings, dancing in pain,
Slipping, sliding, falling on my past, staring up at hot rain.
Its over soon, the subtle end is looming bright, one night
while music screams, liquor pours, smoke curls ever bright
There I go watch me fly, no chute, no prayer, no hope
Just clouds above and crystal blue, watch me fall, watch me *****.
Ah, gather round, see the feathers on my soul, you know that when I die
I’d rather fall while flying, then wait and long to try.

Time is a vicious enemy, it creates crevices of pain in both the face and the lonely heart.
There is no way that a lonely man with a world of motivation
can have a brand new start.
I am old , the wrinkles are a giveaway, the energy and weakness
tells the story
Full of blood and torment, of anger, and sadness all that's crude
and gory.
I need a soul on point,  someone to believe, with a suit of fearless
steel
someone to convince me that all the things that scare me
just aren't real.
Can you be that leader the one that will stand over me be on guard
and protect me
or will you leave me when the war begins  to leave a world of souls
alone to be
Just let me know if I should shine my armour and be prepared to
stand alone
or watch from the sidelines  in frozen ****** fear
and sit and cry a single tear.

Just the other day I lost a moment, I glanced away for a second,
I wonder what I missed. Was it worth seeing or a waste?
I walked down the street and didn't say a hello to anyone.
Did I miss the opportunity to make a new friend ?
I walked past a dog, a canine friend and didn't pat him.
Was  that a mistake too.
I didn't stop to smell the roses when passing a beautiful garden.
I surely would have enjoyed the sweetness and the beauty.
My chance was missed again. I was busy doing life.
I drove quickly for business and missed exciting graffiti on a wall
I bypassed a store window showing just what I need
I left it all behind, I was busy doing life.
I could have had lunch with a friend but I ate alone quickly,
I missed the conversation and the laughs.
I came home and watched the news,
only to find the world was ending ...I missed so much.
I was terribly busy with life doing what I needed to do.
I missed the ending.

A sunset glows of ruby red, through trees of emerald green,
The sapphire blue of water emits a dazzling sheen.
All this glory warms the soul and my love will wake enhanced
Like a fairy queen in a restless field, of music where she danced.
I long to enter the world of dreams to feel this needed love
But guidance to the special world comes from up above.
Springtime turns to summer when dandelions will reign,
The golden twists controlled by wind help ease my daily pain.
They say that love can torture they say that it can die,
And so I fear the fractured land where lovers sit and cry.
I wait here on the outside, seeing colours in my soul
And pray a love that’s safe and mild will come and make me whole.
Eyes of brown will haunt my dreams as I wake in tragic heat
Perhaps the eyes are memories or someone I will meet.
My patience plays at evil games in my saddened mind
I fear that love’s a treasure this lonely man won’t find.

Amid life's worst hours and all the torment that flies around us,
we strive to seek a safe haven that will shield us from the fuss.
Family quarrels and deep down secrets that tend to haunt
then there are the issues that we walk about and tend to flaunt.
So why do we stay and watch the demented show and not leave
why do we wear a tragically broken and scarred heart upon our sleeve.
Because we are human and in this world we know no other way
to tackle the burdens, fears and memories that we carry day to day.
So, on we go driving and pushing into an endless pool of dirt
only to find more and more of the deeply human hurt.
Welcome to confusion, the only thing we have as a  guarantee
so back we go in quick retreat so nothing is really under warranty.

WHC

I sit in wonder amazed at the pain of death and the knives it injects
into the empty souls left behind.
I stare in confusion at the blood that fogs my groggy vision
and terrifies my throbbing mind.
How do we turn off the shooting arrows that pierce our hearts
and leave wicked scars to bear?
When do we heal from all the vicious wounds we carry
how do we show the world how we care?
When does the door open to allow us freedom from pain
how do we bandage the cuts and holes?
Are we meant to continue on day to day in the sun
but dragging behind our empty souls?
Questions that we all ponder as we go about our lives
afraid to lose the ones we love.
We watch the sun go down and rise again everyday
It's the only thing that is guaranteed from above.

For three score years I’ve lived and loved to the tune of my own song
O’ dreaded years to you I say, beware my soul is strong..
I’ll stand up high no feeble bones, no fear of silver hair.
I’ll not conduct my last romance from an antique rocking chair.
I’ll roam the world like younger folk have done for years on end,
if I can’t keep pace with youth today, by God  I will pretend.
No shame in age I will remark, if the rebel children ask
just the wisdom of a thousand years, behind this wrinkled mask.

Ah the single life, so very sweet,
as lively as dancing feet.
Always moving, learning, meeting
rushing, loving, greeting.
New happenings most every day
If I must go
then what a way.

Ah, hindsight, what a gift
as valuable as time is swift.
For I recall that single life
and what I needed most....a wife.

Been a while since daylight had any meaning for me
my life has been surrendered to the time I cannot see.
I listen to old tunes and read some memorable lines
I sample my cheap collection of local wines.
I sometimes dance alone making far too much noise
it's what a free spirit does when they have no real poise.
I may recover from this lose of a friend, yet another one
it's a frightening way to live a life wondering when you're done.
Its age that puts this pressure on a grieving soul
You wonder if tomorrow it'll be your body in a hole.
Stay young I say, fear not what is to be
pretend it's there for others but something you won't see.

Today was a day of music and contemplation
walking away with a faraway destination.
try to forget and yet still remember,
from early April to late September.
Days get longer and much more fragile
the old body gets less and less mobile.
For once days are duly recorded
even though the finality is so sordid.
Recollections are hard to hold,
memories are there but, all so old.
When was my last warm summer night,
is there another one within my blurred sight?
Every hair is turning gray in every mirror
I wonder is the cold ground getting nearer?
I hear voices calling me late at night
caught up in white noise that isn't quite right.
Dreams aren't long enough to really haunt
but there seems time to painfully flaunt.
"Say goodnight Gracie" is what he said
then all the radios finally went dead.

With gentle love and kindness, a mother’s hands take care
with strength and understanding a father’s hands are there.
The hands of time move forward and with them we must go.
We bite the hand that feeds us in spite of all we know.
Lend a hand to those we love, the deed will be returned,
let the left hand know the right, sharing secrets they have learned.
Hands O mighty hands beware, your strength is yet unknown,
heal and save with soothing ways and your worth soon will be shown.
Dynamic hands, loving hands and those that read in Braille,
hands that reach and hands that teach and hands that try and fail.
Hands that beg and hands that steal and hands that hold the light,
hands that search and hands that touch, warlike hands that fight.
Hands that point and hands that wave, some folded as they pray
hands that take and those that give in a very special way.
Hands that speak with a gentle grace, for those who hear no sound,
a world of words in fingertips has suddenly been found.
Stretch your arms up to the sky, rejoice with hands upraised
For he who gave us each two hands must surely now be praised.

As a paddle breaks the glass like glare
Beneath the pine sweet hull,
A breeze shakes gently through the trees
and leaves behind a lull.
The shoreline brims with glistening green
As the sun pounds out its beat,
And reflects a drop of golden light,
As trembling ripples meet.
As peaceful as a memory
Of sweetened days and love,
A cloud with hidden meaning
stirs the blue above.
Remember, yes remember
This day that when it leaves
Engraves the magic images
Upon the soul that grieves.

To all those who have never had a dog….you were never able to see the tilt of the head when a question was asked….        
To all those who never had a dog …you missed the peacefulness of a walk on a summer day with a companion of the highest order.
To all those who never had a dog…….having a head rest itself on your knee and look up in love is not for you.
To all those without a dog..... you will never get a lick or a nose bump of love.
To all those who have never had a dog…….the wag of a tail, signaling love and happiness will not be yours.
To all those who never had a dog…….you will not share an evening dinner with a most appreciative friend.
To all those without a dog….. you will never hear the bark of protection in the night.
To all those without a dog…..you must recognize that the warm loving dark eyes that look at you with respect and love will be a thrill for someone else.
To all those who are without a dog….do not squander the chance, do not look down another road for love and friendship…..it waits posed on four beautiful legs …staring and asking for your heart.

I lay upon the satin sheets
As the lights burn through my head
And struggle with my memory
To recall just what I said.
I turned and put my hand across
The body that I share
And wondered in my empty mind
if it really pays’ to care?
“What’s in sharing life” I ask,
But only half for me
God, these satin sheets feel cool
and in my hand the key.
I guess I’ll stay for one more night
She really shouldn’t mind,
She seems to like my company
and my cool evasive kind.
Perhaps when morning comes around
I’ll pack and move awhile
To another bed with satin sheets
and a temporary smile.

I dance daily with the prospect of dropping like a stone,
the worry that finds itself most constant is that I'll be alone.
I stare into a mirror which never lies but tends to blur
yet the joys of yesterday's pleasures are still a constant lure.
Measurements and drugs and rules to control my day,
at the end of which I'm too tired to have much to say.
Is this where we all arrive in the so called golden years,
living day to day and night to night struggling with our fears?
Rocking chairs don't rock and old feet cannot dance
they just rest and hope that there is really a second chance.
Another way to make your final farewell and grand adieu,
perhaps a party loud and bad, declaring all that's done
recalling all the games you've played and all that you have won.
Maybe then a dinner prepared in the finest style
with all the flair to carry you on that final mile.
These fears will not hunt me down, I promise to be strong
I don't mind the falling , but I won't stay down for long.

Darkness spreads like summer tar as her eyes turn up the heat,
Pretending life is a forever thing is a polished silver feat.
Like raven’s hair and an eagle’s heart, she bears the burden well
Living through the daily fear of a secret none can tell.
Her love will dance like firelight on a frosty afternoon,
Even though she knows the time is ending all too soon.
Winter’s chill turns up the pain to an ever burning rage
As we wait like little children for the turning of the page.
We simply live like migrants or mutants on a screen,
We just can’t share a memory of a place we’ve never been.
But we can clasp two hearts as one through electric cord
And cry ourselves to sleep at night, praying to some Lord.
Tomorrow’s just a distant nod in a sea of unknown wind,
Losers die of wondering on what day they’ve sinned.
I’ll carry on my weary back the treasures handed me
And wander through the heavens to see what I can see.
I’ll watch and guide from distant space, I’ll whisper oh so low
But only you will understand the world I used to know.

The weight of a huge chipped and worn rock lies upon our shoulders
it threatens our air supply, our energy is low and we are weak.
What little air breaks through is merely dust and dirt simply
meant to hinder our escape, to force us to scream in pain.
We will not....we will hold our breath until the clean sweet air of life
feeds us and stirs our souls and hearts to carry on. We will not weaken
again, we will not allow rocks and dust and wind and rain and scars from our past to prevent us from breaking free....we are different....we have more ....we are stronger and better.
We have purpose, meaning and time. We will fight and be wise and use love and wisdom and courage to protect and guide us.
If either of us is left alone the other will carry one with a soul resting on their shoulder for guidance and love .......we are a team.

Time is flying by and I have little heart to fly with it.
I try and find a path to travel, in a place I won’t get hit,
But enemies like gravel, get stuck in all our shoes
And I fight them every single day, like a drunk who pays his dues.
A feast is in the woods ahead, I see it in the corner of my eye
I hope I can prepare myself so northern nights won’t make me cry.
I will dance in sparkling firelight with the woman of my life
She pretends I’m in another place and perhaps she’s not my wife.
Can’t say that I can lay the blame, my warmth has dwindled down
To where my heat is something like a dark and dingy town
Full of ghosts and memories that haunt whatever moves
Like a bent and worn out needle trying to find the grooves.
Time is such a wicked thing, whether it comes or goes
It always finds the secret path that no one ever knows.

As we lay upon our comfortable bed at night, with barely time for insight
when suddenly we are startled by a memory or dream or perhaps a fright.
It is called as it always has been by the curious name of "Karma".
When we witness a terrible act or cause an accident of huge proportion
that drives our very soul to frightening evil  contortion...it will be "Karma"
That is not to say "Karma" always blows an ill wind for it does not
it bears with it the payment for debts you truly have sought.
If your soul has been gentle and kind, forgiving and with love
"Karma" will guide you and lead you somewhere special on the wings of a dove.
If greed and lies and deceit have been your course throughout your days
"Karma" will repay you in many more complicated ways.
It is wise not to tamper with the ways of "Karma" or try to avoid her path
for "Karma" like the mythical devil carries a burden of fearful wrath.
None of us can steer her ship or raise her blackened sails
all of those who in the past have tried blow in her wintry gales.
Once done a deed of fearful wrath to hinder the souls of men
must simply now resort themselves to simply wonder when,
that knock will come upon your door, perhaps the fires burn,
per chance your dreams will fall apart those for all you yearn.
"Karma" will be there when all those leave your side
But it is with her judgment and her choice you will abide.
Be not late in making ways to pave your way to peace
For "Karma" has no patience and never gives release.

The saddest part of saying hello is when you must say goodbye,
the saddest part of saying goodbye is when you start to cry.
Each tear leaves scars upon my cheeks, old and worn and bleak
each moment I sit and miss you seems far more like a week.
I await the next sweet moment when a hug turns into gold
And a kiss upon this aging face makes me feel not quite so old.
There is no cure for too much love if it really does exist
but not being with the ones you love is a moment sadly missed.

Music is the only remedy to the pain of deep misery
the notes light up the soul with sweet history.
We remember the dance that  made us smile
we treasure the simple spot on the radio dial.
If only life was always music and notes
it would be a castle in heaven without moats.
But alas, gold and tone are not easy to find
they are a mystery to all but those with a special mind.
I love to dance around my room at night in crazy swirls
thinking of my history and all the sweetest girls.
Now I am old and all is just a distant past
thrown upon a table top when the die is cast.
So I wait until the closing act to seal my final fate
the hardest part is when the old have to sit and wait.

The teasing lines that draw me in,
from December’s cold to you,
The haunting voice that fills my head,
when a fleeting glance would do.
Bring it close, hold it near
we mustn’t let it fade.
I live to touch, I live to feel
the rainbows that you’ve made.
A veil of velvet hides my face,
as you turn and walk away
And I search within a world of words
for something new to say.
Like sweet hellos and sad goodbyes
its all been said before.
As frightening as an epitaph
is the closing of the door.
Watch the sun and watch the moon
as they fall down from the sky,
hear the sound as they hit the earth.
My eyes will ask you why?

I will be the one who throughout failures and erring ways was always there, sword in hand. When each sunrise comes, when rainbows hail their beauty, when the music of life plays best in spring, when you need warmth and love, I will be your Valentine. I will dance with you, see the world with you, serve feasts of the Gods for you and pour your wine. Words may sometimes escape my lips, but never my heart. My soul is with yours, they travel this rocky road together and will always do so. I will be your I have no canvas, no brush or even a vision that says enough,
I can not fly you hither and yon to warmth and glory,
I cannot bring flashing stones embedded in gold of many shades
I try to sing to you , but my voice dies like summer flowers in autumn’s chill, I cannot free you from burdens of daily life or release the pain of years gone by, I can not make promises for much beyond tomorrow’s dawn, but yet I will be your Valentine for eternity, I will be the one who loved you until the end of time.....forever Valentine.

I am a time traveler, I move quietly from today to tomorrow,
I am an ill traveler; I dance with pain and sing with sorrow.
“Who goes there” they call to me, deep in the night,
Not easing my pain, but just causing more fright.
I swing on a star sent by the pill, and swim in goblets of wine
I pray for release, I cling to a dream, one that’s sweet and divine.
I hear the music that all others miss; I taste the river of love
I feel the pounding, down deep in the earth, sent by something above.
As a traveler I go just a day at a time, so much to my dismay,
But if days were words and I was young, I’d still have little to say.
I wait for the spring its effortless growth feeling so warm and green
I lie in a field watching a dream, knowing it’s already been seen.
I drift over clouds, billowed and white, lined with silver they say,
But I fall through the cracks holding my pack onward to a new day.

I lean over her, resting on my elbow as I stare into her sleeping face.
I brush a wisp of hair away from her eyes so that I can kiss them lightly
as she dreams softly and gently of I don't know what.
I think of all our moments, the good, the bad and the in between.
Her lips look inviting as she breathes the air of a princess in a fairyland.
It seems like hours as I stare and remember, those special minutes
that cause a soul to tremble or a heart to ache.
Her pillow is full of creases and folds where her  head has laid all night.
Morning peaks through the window and brings with it a bright morning sun
but it will do nothing for me, because I lay here watching, feeling, entranced by this woman. I am haunted by a very chilling fact. It is not a sudden break up or a jealous love story or even an angry word.
I realize as I always do on these spring mornings that the lady I stare at and love so deeply in my badly tangled bed is not really there....she is a mystery that comes to me each morning.
A mystery that reminds me I have no one, that the beauty I long for will never lie beside me.
How many more mornings will I spend on this tragic wasted  love.

Hair the colour of wheat with a backdrop of crashing waves,
near the cliffs of hardened stone with the dark and hidden caves.
She sits and walks her friends until her soul is hard and cold
her beauty is what saves her from the fate of growing old.
She has a heart the size of an Island, and eyes that always shine
The only flaw that I can find is this lady isn’t mine.
The wires allow our words to touch and our lonely eyes to meet,
But to wrap my arms around her is an unknown dream like feat.
I wait each day for a word or two, a sign her world is right,
But I go to bed with an aching soul in the heavy dark of night.
What I want is taken and so many roads to walk,
I work each solitary day waiting for that chance to talk.
I want to touch that face of ivory and feel the hair of gold
I want to revel in her warmth before I get too old.
Carol your quite amazing , that’s a chord that rings so true
And you my love remember , these words are just for you.

The little man stood upon a hill, for it was all he could climb,
He lived upon the low land and his world was built on rhyme
All his words found a way to touch each other and cry
When tears were not the daily plan then words became so wry.
He stood upon his hill, with his small and battered hands,
wishing for the ocean view and the feel of burning sands.
The sun was just above him and stars were there at night,
but all the world around him seemed to block his sight.
Sometimes magic would arrive and touch his wounded soul,
but there was no constant answer, he was never to be whole.
Why stand upon the hill they say, there is no answer there
He would not give an answer, he knew they didn’t care.
Days go by as does the clock and all the blowing dust,
the world still changes colour, turning to bitter rust.
The little man on the hill watches it all in shame,
He sees that rhymes won’t cure the world, life is just a game.

Even though I cast a shadow and create an echo in the hills
I know I am no longer real, just dust on old window sills.
It is my ashes scattered hither and yon, near but far
leaving just a memory and a long and jagged scar.
So sad to no longer be, empty but full of movement
like a piece of glass, shimmering but yet bent.
Where am I, the sky seems dark above me all the time,
even my dreams no longer exist unless they are in rhyme.
If I am not here then why do I struggle to sleep?
why too does the music that I hear make me weep?
Am I really just a bitter shadow, left from past days
will I have a lasting legacy made in other ways?
A shadow cannot know these things or imagine any dream
things for us who are scattered will never be as they seem.

As I close in on the final moments of my 60's, I tremble a bit, cry a lot and worry even more. It is an inevitable moment except for those who depart early. I should be celebrating my accomplishments as few as they are and my 70 years.....but it is hard to deal with the fact that the finish line is in sight. Age, decease and failure all gang up on you at a very inappropriate moment. A moment you can't avoid unless lightning gets you first, or a random bus.
I envy all the seniors who take old age in stride and simply "wait" to go......with full acceptance and sometimes even gratitude, if pain is their partner. I deal with my pain the best way I can and I look with admiration at friends who have surpassed me in years and health issues and are still bouncing around enjoying life without fear ...or at least not showing it.
May I walk down the aisle to the end of the red carpet with a semblance of a smile and perhaps even a poem on my lips  or a song in my voice.
Yet I am going through a time of concern, annoying those I love and accomplishing nothing.
Words escape me and the courage to share my issues just isn't there. So I carry on, being a stone in everyone's shoe, a rain shower spoiling  the summer days .
I am working on it but I am fairly sure by the time I find the remedy I will be ashes on someone's mantel.

A man trapped in habit and silliness, I waited with baited breath
but this year my special day was torn from me by his tragic death.
We would sit as a tandem in the spring sun, two noses in the air.
pondering lunch, grass, lilac buds, but not harbouring a single care.
A dozen years such a short and faltering era, one I can’t explain
we shared our time, we shared our souls, and most of all our pain.
The first warm rays of spring brought us out like two old bears
airing out our empty souls and throwing off our winter cares
Facing the sun grinning in our own special way, a pair winding down,
a brave and furry warrior and his faithful adoring clown.
So I guess it’s over, the sun doesn’t shine quite as brightly today
I sat there alone, an old and lonely fool with nothing left to say.
Perhaps this year, spring has a new purpose, to usher in the end,
my faithful old friend has left me and I have no garden to tend.