Don't we all sometimes stagger and fall, and taste the dirt
don't we all sometimes wake up to the morning sun and feel the hurt?
Perhaps we all have similar souls that somehow feel the same
maybe we all have minds that short circuit and feel the pain.
Are we all that different when the scorecard is examined  quick
aren't we all just a little disturbed and perhaps a little sick?
I think we are but I can't complain, I have no easy way
to make sure that tomorrow will be a better day.
So I will grab on to the present and hold it close in fear
there is no point in feeling pain that causes us to shed a tear.
Shoot it down, it's useless it drags us back each and every day
but it never stands loud and clear and shows a better way.
I guess I am out of here, alone and on the road
a pack upon my shoulders, feeling pain from yesterdays load.

WHC

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

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.

If I can’t quite see tomorrow and can’t deal well with today
Can I close these eyes that blind me and somehow find a way.
Will I fly up to the heavens, or will I drop down to the seas.
What if I’m not there to comfort, just at the time you please.
Well I’ll cry, yes I’ll cry, just as any other would,
And I’ll climb back up that hill again like any lover should.
Here we go, here we go, up another hill, trying to see tomorrow
Or what our dreams will ****,
Its not heaven that can hurt you, but the clouds that slow the way
So I’ll move my love at the speed of sound and reach you in a day.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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

As years and days pass by and leave small shadows
I spend more and more time buried in angry fear
At an advanced age I struggle running through meadows
I also find that daily I fight to hold back the odd tear
Am I sad am I afraid or do I have a hidden foe
If I continue to fight on daily can I win this fight
Is there ever a victor in a war without any woe
As an old an battled man in ill repair
I try to plan my battles very carefully and few
But then my old confusion proposes a dare

The keyboard calls out after beer and gentle drugs give a nudge
I have a plethora of burning thoughts but my fingers won’t budge.
I want something sweet and comforting with a sweet tone
But fear and anxiety have cut me deep to the bone.
Its not writer’s block but a fear of tomorrows story
I fear it may be very messy and gory.
Who knows what bus will be the one or perhaps a grenade
Or standing in the cold of a Santa Claus parade
Don’t think too much it can cause many bad cuts
It can drive the car of life into several deep ruts.
Dance everyday though no music is playing
thinking all day on what your soul keeps saying
Dig up some words never heard in this life before
The ones that will be remembered and cut you to the core
Your legacy has the value of a suitcase and some ink
Hoping what you’ve written down will cause just one to think.

The day seemed as it always does, turned suddenly to night,
my peaceful sunny moments turned to darkened fright.
Like so many things, the change just isn't always good,
we didn't do the many things that we thought we could.
Tomorrow I will be better, I will give it a better shot,
getting through the next day without the fear of getting caught.
Black nights turn to sunrise, or sometimes to dismal gray
it's never ever knowing that gets us through the coming day.
We just don't know who we will touch or what words we will use
we don't know if there's an offer there that we just can't refuse.
Not much is really predictable or left for us to share
just finding a loving soul mate and someone who shows they care.
If luck is on our tortured side on that moment that it shows
then happiness full of waters cool like a rolling river flows.

Copyright
WHC/2013

Leaves of varied colours scatter as a promise of tomorrow,
The winter winds may bring chills, ice and bitter sorrow.
The scourge floats through our homes traveling on personal spit
Seeking a new customer and a friendly place to sit.
Masks and gloves cover faces and hide our sad expression
But these thin disguises cannot eliminate our growing depression.
We wait for an easy answer from a pile of helpless failed leaders
Knowing full well they won’t succeed they are all just bottom feeders.
We older souls just sit and wait with anticipated anxiety
While politicians turn to money and cloak the choice in piety
Kiss your treasured love ones and hold them very close
They are our only hope for a love filled vaccine dose.
We are the ones they will sacrifice at every single turn
As the fire continues on in rage we are the ones to burn.

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.

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.

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.

Does a tear fall on every letter you write, or maybe not,
do you think about what you used to have or what you've got?
Do you wake up in the morning still hurting from the night,
does the memory of the moment  still cause a vicious fright?
Maybe then you know the price you have to pay for flying high
sometimes we will survive, sometime we may die.
Crawl into a darkened hole and cover your ****** ears
but then you won't have any hands to wipe away your tears.
It's a sad life to live this party game, always in pain
grabbing and stabbing, reaching for whatever you may gain.
There is a shelf life to all you do and even all you dream
it will all come to a nasty end  worse than you ever could seem.
Try to fly and get above all the damp clouds and the sun
you lost her in all the reverie and she was the only one.
Its over, love played out and bled until it died a sad death,
now you  live for what is still to do with a quiet breath.

WHC
Oct/2013

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.

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 I sit in a chair full of apprehension and worry
I also want things right and not to hurry.
I need support for a giant change in life
I need to know someone will be there through strife.
It is hard to know who will step up and who will hide,
it becomes a very emotional roller coaster ride.
A guiding light is failing me in the time of special need
I have to be out front not someone who is a afraid to lead.
If you hear me ....reach out and hold my hand at this time
to help a drowning man  will never be a crime.
Step up and lend support in my hour of need
I have to know my soul is alive and will be freed.

She walked towards me , slowly yet steady, eyes fixed on mine.
I gazed back, lost and wondering just what I would find.
Our story was sordid but love often is and then dies
it was made up of torture so painful, full of lies.
Of course I love her and I want to hang on
I wonder is what we had ...that war, finally gone.
I hear thunder in the distance as lightning heats the sky
I wonder if losing her would be worse than if I die.
I wait until she approaches me, hands held out in ...please
I can't help but think she still knows how to tease.
It's been a trembling moment, one so filled with doubt
I finally turn and walk away, I need to go without.

WHC/2013

I am an endangered species because I am the only one
what will happen when I die and I am finally done?
It will be as tragic as the day the sun finally dies
or when a lover gets caught telling foolish lies.
There is no other species quite like me or like you
we are lost in a world of circles with cages from the zoo.
I will stretch my ability to see and live as long as I can
daring the society that laughs at me to find another man.
I will watch the stars streak across the midnight sky
jealous of their movement and the way they silently fly.
I know time has a painful limit and calls each of us,
we must stand up when our name is called without a fuss.
In the meantime I will smell the flowers and sip the wine
listen to the music and read the stories line after line.
I will pretend that I can't hear when someone finally calls
I will not move but stand like an old car that stalls.
I will refuse my place in line and look staunchly away
maybe they can try again on another more dreary day.
Today is far too sunny and made for a walk in the park
and tonight will be too warm and gentle in the dark.
Just say no, there is no reason to admit or agree
keep on walking through the trees and feeling free.
Many more years are planned for me and  you
many things are waiting for us to try to do.
So say goodbye to leaving and hold on tight
for the ride is not over until your out of sight.

A beak chipped with wear and conflict, wings tattered and shorn, we
continue on to our destination, unlike man who falters and cries in fear.
We have but one goal, to reach our destination and continue our world. A world built on flight, family, and fate. We face the winds, the chill of ice the heat of the suns glare and continue on. We spread our wings as did our ancestors for thousands of years before our birth, behind our trail our young ones, following blindly to their predestined world.
This is what we do, we migrate, we breed, we repeat and repeat, but who knows that we dream. Perhaps no one ever will.
We do, and our dream is to continue without fear of loud sounds that drop our bodies to the cold damp ground, that leave young ones alone.
Perhaps in times to come beauty and grace will send up a signal to those that
stop our path and needlessly leave our young alone to die…if we could speak we would only ask why.
I fly, I will always fly

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.

Old eyes stare at faded walls,
A glance at a landline maybe for calls
Yesterday crosses the line of sight
But disappears in a heartbeat like a fright
Its been so long and it burns in red
Starting now to wonder about all the dead.
A little music and a little beer for some
Anything that makes an old soul numb
Plants grow while they stare at the sun
Some of us worry that life is now done
Darkness brings no sudden reprieve
But sometimes sad memories will leave
Morning always brings more of the same
We look around and wonder who’s to blame
Kids are gone and I am in the dark
Sometimes a call, a token, cold and stark
They take another soul away, I listen
I close my ancient eyes as they start to glisten.
Maybe it’s not an ending but a start
To teach all the young ones to have a heart.
Lonely is in the rear view for all of us
When we are carried out we won’t make a fuss.

It may not be a melody you know or lyrics you can sing
        But like an old worn bell I hope you’ll hear it ring.
        You won’t be able to dance to it or even hum along
        But at least it will remind you that I am truly gone.
        It won’t be a melancholy tune full of lonely tears
        But maybe it will remind you of all our happy years
        No one else will hear it, drifting through the breeze
        But perhaps the gentle notes will cause a stirring in the trees
        Being gone isn’t always such a sad and lonely thing
        It opens doors to all the joy new beginnings bring
        Listen for me when I’m gone I will always be there
        Sending out my words showing how a man can care.

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.

Winter's bitter wind digs into our bones like hot flames
it takes its toll on all, not taking any names.
Run to reach the car or bus, get out of the raging storm
how can pain and torment, become the daily norm?
We live so far from the earth's hot center line
we dodge and push the wind away, and pretend that winter's fine.
Like love that never works we wait for it to end
temperatures that fall can never be a friend.
We need the burning star to close the distant gap
like the fading runner pushing in the final lap.
Spring will come as a new love does in green and some in yellow
buts its always like a lovely woman not just a friendly fellow.
Today will be a memory trapped in a frozen mind
wrapped in the warmth of springtime and all the love we find.

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.

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.

Somewhat quickly I would run, upon the field of green and sand,
leaping boldly through the air, seldom caring where I’d land.
Reaching out o’er space and time to catch a ball of light
to capture and to hold it and end its destined flight.
I bounce, I fall, I throw and run, like a firefly in heat
trying hard to show the world the magic in my feet.
Up again with hands of gold I play like Nero’s toy
and fiddle with my leather glove as if it were a ploy.
A way to win the diamond war when all was said and done,
I loved to stand and yell support in the blazing summer sun.
The grass was always greener there, even in the dark
A field without its players always looks so stark.
I’m satisfied I’ve had my turn, now others come to play
I pray their joy will be as grand, as mine that summers day

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.

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 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

I wander aimlessly around my tiny world, cringing at the pain
I worry about tomorrow’s plan and curse at today’s rain.
Joints of hell and fire make every step a burden,
yet no end in sight and more of the same is certain.
I want to stand as tall as a little man and breathe fire,
not be known as a poet without words or a liar.
I want to battle through the agony and avoid the tears
I need to dig a little deeper to make sure I hide my fears.
Older may be better when discussing the fine wines
But in the body of an old man it’s a world of wrinkles and lines
I recall the early days as many writers do, words flowed like beer
music never stopped and there was always more to hear.
Looking in a morning mirror is a terror in itself
I see the face of a statue that belongs on someone’s shelf.
Where is the smile and all the character that made me young
where is all the harmony for the songs I’ve always sung?
Will this happen to everyone as years slip through their hands
Will all my friends and family watch the sifting sands?
Time will tell I have been told as I wither and fight on
I hope the best of me is coming.... but not gone.

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.

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

Late nights and brilliant moons and star filled skies
never manage to answer all my questions and whys.
I will continue to sing in the shower and scare my soul
but sometimes my own bad music makes me whole.
Do we all have those nights when we are confused
when we feel so defeated and often badly used?
I seek a light to brighten my dim and darkened  world
a glowing, shining sun that like a flag unfurled
will open my heart and bring warmth to what is within
and at very least give me a chance to finally win.
I need to put down the bottle and brush the lines
off the glassy table and put the cork in the wines.
Do we all have these moments, these nights of doubt
the times when we think we will never get out?
I need to escape and my words are the only way
yet as I write I torment myself at least for another day

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.

Just when a man settles and takes to the idea of peace and quiet,
just when a man realizes the value of family and earthly delights
along comes a pandemic.
Just when a man hears music in a more intimate way and reads words that bear a deeper meaning,
just when a man begins to understand and accept the near future and what it may hold for one with many years in the bank,
along comes a pandemic.
Just when a man appreciates subtlety, cold ale and a fine meal,
just when a man learns to be grateful for what he has left behind and for all the memories he has created
along comes a pandemic.
Just when a man can sit in the sun and feel the warmth and look forward to a peaceful night’s sleep
Just when a man feels repentant for crimes against his own world
and is prepared to accept his due
along comes a pandemic.
Talk of karma perhaps eases some bitter minds, many find blame to lay at the feet of others but it matters not because
along comes a pandemic.
No path is left unmarked, no trail leads to safety there is nowhere to hide.
Because along comes a pandemic.

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.

Please keep the noise down I’m trying to grow old
It’s hard and it’s painful and wickedly cold.
I need more flowers, more brilliant green trees
More people around who stop and say please.
Let’s have some music and don’t let it stop
Crank up the volume, don’t dare let it drop.
Each day a new wrinkle with a memory to match
I try to recall the story and reach for the catch
So often I miss it’s just too far away
Yet memories we grab, have so much to say
Please help me remember and bring back the day
When words were my friend, with something to say.
Please don’t be angry if I can’t speak your name
I see your eyes and the soul is the same.
Please forgive me for not being with you
I’m not far way and there’s a lot you can do.

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.

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.