Pondering Stories

You can't be a writer without at least asking once- what is love? Philosophers and Scientists- and hell, even Psychologists!- have been at it for years. Philosophers, well, who ever knows what they think, scientists figure it ties with our instinct to mate and psychologists kind of go with scientists and their own psycho-mumbo-jumbo. (I'm allowed, I was in psychology... it's not all psycho-mumbo-jumbo). But what- if I can...

I often wonder: If I became A celebrity, Would you admire me? If I became Filthy rich, Would you be my friend? If I became A best-selling author, Would you read my books? If I became A schoolteacher, Would you learn from me? If I called you Crying in the middle Of the night, Would you pick up and answer? If I were An ü ber-nerd, Would you hang out with me? If I moved away, Would you come visit me? If I was in need, Would...

I try to hold onto my hopes, dreams and desires. As the days grow shorter, and the nights longer, I find that sliver of hope that kept me going start to fade. I clutch my blanket around me tighter, ignoring the clock that says I must leave my bed. I ignore the life outside my doors in favour of living inside my own personal hell. I know what’s wrong, and I know how to fix it; I just lack the desire to do anything about it...

I guess it’s in me somewhere,hovering, waiting,perhaps between heartbeats,or underneath my breath,hiding where it can’t be seen,wanting to escape to somewhere,perhaps over the rainbow where bluebirds fly—who knows why it’s there,what it wants, what it’s doingwhen I’m sleeping?Sometimes I wonder if it’s really there,or just a notion I’m supposed to believelike Santa Claus.Sometimes I want it to speak to me,tell me what I n...

Yesterday, planting daffodils and tulips in the new bed I made, lining tree trunks from the pine and spruce that once grew taller than my house, old warriors, now fallen so that I could have more sunlight in my life, more color all around me, taking what I need, to create the world I want to live and die in. And kneeling there-- dirt beneath my nails from giving each bulb the earth and space it needs to blossom in the spr...

The gates of life have opened up for me Slowly I step and ponder what comes If I were to leave, what lies beyond? Many times I would wait until sunset Just to see if they were left ajar Sitting very still I dare not move Most certain I would not get far This place has come to agree with me As I seem part of the majestic scenery Within these walls I cry and laugh Trying to bring past memories back The Sun still shines yet...

I’m getting older because I haven’t died and wiser because I seldom worry or shake my head at foolishness. I walk much slower now because my legs are stiff and know it makes no sense to hurry. Getting older like the trees I share this land with and the hills where the sun rises to glisten on the water lets me look around and see with sadder gladder eyes-- still blue like the sky but cloudy too-- and so I squint to see the...