It was a strange feeling
One not easy to describe
It wasn’t a case of
Half empty or half full
He was way beyond empty
He felt nothing
He had no words
He no longer cared
His mind, once so vibrant
Was no longer there
He had no hope
Sadness hung over him
Like a dark heavy cloud
But he smiled
Because he knew
He was way beyond empty
Dedicated to all those dealing with Dementia or Alzheimer’s
~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2018 All Rights Reserved
You can feel it in the air
See it in the trees
Days are getting shorter
Nights are getting cooler
The time is getting closer
The days of scattered leaves
~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2018 All Rights Reserved
What is eternity
Is it real
Or only a figment
Of someone’s imagination
Created to implant fear
In our minds
Is it a promise
Of life after death
Or a carrot on a stick
To keep us in our place
Are our souls everlasting
Like we have been told
Or just a wish by a mortal
Who fears growing old
I don’t have the answer
But this much I know
We began at the beginning
And we’ll end at the end
~The Tennessee Poet~
©Walt Page 2018 All Rights Reserved
Cooking and fun with food and Dates❣️
Source: Cooking up some fun on Fri-Yay Funday❣️ | Unique Times
Store brands can save you money—and many are getting better than ever. But read the labels closely: Some aren’t the bargain they seem.
Source: Foods You Should Think Twice About Buying Generic | The Healthy
Forget the low-fat mania of decades past. Experts now know that healthy fats protect your heart. Here’s a list of healthy fat foods.
Source: 20 Foods With Healthy Fats You Should Definitely Be Eating | The Healthy
The boardwalk…
The dancing Lake Huron surround us,
you are barefoot walking and your eyes of wonder,
studying the lake.
I tell you,
I love the simple days when we can feel the water against our feet.
The morning sun against our skin and
the world seem so far away.
Your morning smile and the 6 am hot coffee,
utopia for my heart.
You take my right hand and we follow the boardwalk to the end.
You whisper.
I love the great lakes, I love the morning silence.
You and I,
kindred spirits following the Port Austin boardwalk every morning and
seeking some calmness and some peace.
I love our mornings walks and I love you dear, honey, sweetie.
I tell you, I love you more. …
Dancing Coyote
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
We all, need a grand adventure..
Come away with me….
We loved the cigarettes, the Johnnie Walker and the good songs.
You were North Dakota born, now California blessed.
I would massage your wanting skin every night and I whispered poetry to you.
“We murdered love and we wanted more.
We danced on the Monterey bay beach and we tried to touch the stars, the moon.
We were careless children, loving the sea and the Johnnie walker.
I told you. You are the bravest lady I ever known.
You make me believe,
I can be someone more, something better.
You are my ambrosia kiss,
the sweetest nectar I ever tasted.
You make love so sweet, so kind.”
You laughed at my words and you whispered.
Please come away with me,
let’s find the seven seas and touch with our bare feet,
View original post 141 more words
I want a wild gal….
She wore her Sunday best and the smile of a angel.
I told her, all we have is a Winter day and 10 inches of snow.
She asked me. Is that a snow sled in the back of the truck?
I told her yes and it is rarely used, the snow rarely sticks.
Her pretty smile turn wicked and she asked.
Johnnie, please take me to the big hill on Romeo road.
I smiled and I told her. Honey, you are dressed-up pretty and heels upon
your pretty feet.
She came close to me, tapped my forehead and she asked.
Do you believe I am dainty and soft? I can break?
I told her. No, you are my wild gal, fearless and brave.
If you want the snow hill, we shall go now.
She smiled and she kissed me. She answered. Good!!
We climbed the…
View original post 146 more words
“One needs others to get to know oneself.” Carl Jung
In Their Faces When the harrowing voice pierced my body a thick roke of darkness became my inward days, feeling the essence of sorrows all around me, reaching the fragile wraith of my heart into their deeps and seeing the innocent faces of loved ones peering through the the threshold of suffering as a multitude of all before, as a sign of hope that the cliches of time are true enough in honouring the layers of pain so easily stored in the flesh, now let go in the moment I see myself in their faces. Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon All Rights Reserved ®
The Reluctant Poet 