Hopefully,
after a while when tears have been shed
and
eyes are dry
a new fragrance will rise
and
life will continue
its flow
like the river where once you two did row

But it will be a new boat
new robes
the drill cannot change
you will again kiss
like dew drops in the rain
and
within each others domain
continue to remain

Their faces are wrinkled by the desert sun
Their bodies are fat from cloned potatoes
They carry firearms to the fireman’s ball
And listen to music which makes you crawl
Meeting at the neon bar for beers
They sneer at anything which doesn’t live near
They are the good souls from the heartland
Do not presume to be their friend

A field of dreams falling apart at the seams
today I sought a peace between two worlds
From the one I knew
then to the one I wish to know

cobwebs etched into my fragmentary brain
A touch at a glance of a beckoning call
Light illumination
hope springs fresh

One seeks solace from nature's glory

To savor each moment with both family & friend
The eclipse of the sun has tainted my inner vision
A sparkling array of blissful care
love shot an arrow to the center of my heart

Shivering with nerves and cool
driving about
the old city fool
I eye the ire
strike steel to flint
buy items much needed
upending the lint
truly need a womans
fire
my man bones marrow
grown drafty and cold
flowers and texture
waylaid by speed
my swayback new walk
has lost most of its pride
top of that hill
my tired stead and I
shadow fixture
now the only thing
thats bold

...

'From the perspective
of an elderly aging poet....''''

Age we must

Beautifully put across
We all are in our aging stage...
ere we leave this worldly stage
let others now rage

and

take over our lives
with a new page

and

they in newer vistas engage

Our lives we have lived
says this nearing old page

Do not in maliciousness engage
Life’s given to each one
as a chess game

and

I am sure I have posted this before but it came up in conversation so I thought I might take the liberty,

My wife is on a diet, so am I,
her will prevails in setting what we do;
no more to breakfast on a tasty fry
nor lunch of prime Scotch mince or Irish stew.
She loves her cherry cake, but it’s now gone
and with it all the sweetmeats from the house;
the limits of what’s wholesome have been drawn,
I think that she mistakes me for a mouse.

You all are great poets
indeed

Like I feel
I compose poetry daily
some day
one day
someone still will read me

We all read Shakespeare
till today
but does he know it!

We must just share
and
seek not shimmering glare
be aware we also are unaware
that Time should not us scare...
Amen

Dark magical interludes
The madness ensues
She dances in a ring of fire
Yet throws off the challenge with a shrug
Laughter
Light and love
Satan laughing spreads his wings
Long viscous fangs that bite
Eyes full of sullen brevity
She stays alone stationary
Follows her passion through a field
Angels bask in there vast array of light
Forget he day the night is far spent
Black in her wardrobe
Haunting style of vestibules
A pulse beating in the night

Poetry is simple emotion
as it effervesces from anyone
from a poet to a reader
though not all.

Some of my poems have been graded as
GEMS
by a poet yet
another says its crap ..

The poem should tinge the heart of a reader
if the reader cries
reading ones poetry
the poet deserves a credit for his creativity ..

All poetry need not be personal ,
but mostly all poems have a seed/grain
down within ones own soul
deep enough'