Past adventures, as they are
Racing the Moon
in that very old car.
Oh what a life
we had then.
I miss you so,
My old friend.

Well here we are
alone at last.
Time to discuss
all of our past.

Going down a trail,
when I was young.
A trial of mud slick
ruts, on which to run
astride a Honda Trail 55.
No helmet required
for the ride. Wet clay
and mud on that day,
a good thing to stay away.
When tires are narrow
they'll slip and slide
which provides a
sloppy, scary ride.
Down the hill, did I go,
slipping and sliding,
oh what a show.
Safe at last at the
muddy bottom
on this fine day
one early Idaho Autumn.

I'm thinking back to my
Navy days.
The memories are to still
there to amaze.
I was the Mail P.O. on
this small ship.
A Postal Clerk who
distributed the mail,
from my small pantry
sized jail.
I would sell money orders
on Pay Days, to those
who wanted to save.
When in Port, my duty
was to go to the FPO
or Fleet Post Office
to deliver/pick up
the US Mail.
When we were at sea,
there wasn't any activity.
On occasion, my Superior,
an Ensign, as I recall,
would tell me we were
going to make a Guard
Mail Run. Guard Mail
consisted of Confidential
or Secret information,
that was used for
upcoming fleet operations,
or our ship movement.
When this occurred, I would
strap on my Colt, Model 1911,
45 caliber, automatic and
follow 5 paces behind the Ensign.
I was there for protections. Problem
was there was not any ammo in my clip.
If something was to happen, I suppose
I would throw my gun at the attacker.
No such event occurred, but those
were very different times.

Away all boats, that was the call.
Away all boats to the far Atoll.
This wasn't a war but that command,
was in my mind when approaching glistening sand.
Our ship was anchored in a Tropical Lagoon
and Liberty Call would be announced soon.
Liberty for us, on this Tropical Isle,
would be to walk about, for a long while;
to observe and to help where we could
and to make sure that we understood,
that those we met were simple but good.
A brief glimpse, from my aged mind,
of an adventure, that will often remind
the differences, we can now see,
between the Races, more different than we.

What thought are these?
They are not mine,
For the pain I feel
is well entwined.
Go from me, you Spirit dark.
Run away, it's time to part.

The thoughts, now in my brain
are not mine, not the same.
Stay out of my head you must.
Leave me now; turn me to dust.

There is no noise.
There is no dread
About the sounds
Within my head.

A melodious sound
Both near and far.
It calls to me,
"Stay where you are
Don't run away
Stay here and fight;
Take the battle
Into the light."

Brighten the day
With morning Sun,
Tells the World,
Life has begun.

The moss, on this side of the tree,
is unlike the love inside of me.
Clinging to the rough Bark hide,
my soul has withered and has died.

Talk not, to me
about aches and pain,
for you, understandably
must complain.
If you feel at a loss
of words,
then you may understand
how absurd.
It is, don't you see,
the loss of a dementia patients
own memory.

The long legged cat
passed on the trail.
He was quite elegant,
but was missing his tail.
A tail he had
when quite young,
but lost it when fighting
during the setting Sun.
If you see this elegant cat
with his stub raised high
give him some room
and let him pass by.

No more cries, ere the
morning light.
No more whys of this
present plight.
No more random talks
without a notion.
No more discussion
with no emotions.
No more ringing
of the bell.
No more consideration,
gone to hell.
No more talks,
about anything.
No more happiness,
will it bring.
No more of life,
we know today.
No more my wife,
who will go away.

An interesting time, it was then
when the beach was in view.
Thankful for the time I had with you.

I'm not the one I used to be.
It matters not, if you love me,
For I know, my love for you,
Is here today. It matters not what you do.

And she said to me; she surely did.
"I don't remember my Mother, not at all."
She left the room and I tried,
But I wept with sorrow and I cried.
The tears flowed down my cheek.
Dear God, why am I so weak?

Life is like a flower.
Here today
Gone tomorrow

When I wrote verse, many years ago,
our young Son's would tease me so.
It influenced the shyness in me,
as I quit writing incessantly.
The writing I did, some forty years
long past, were put away.
Then a good friend told me about
Kudos365.com. and I began to
write again, for you all to see.
I had many folders, that had been
stored, but the pencil I used
then, had started fading away.
Now, here I sit, with pen in hand,
trying to write about the past
so you would now understand.
Perhaps I need to write more
with out any kind of a whine
and do it after a glass of wine.

Away he goes, off to the Sea;
for the Sirens are calling He.
Return to the Islands, so nice.
Come back to this tropical paradise.
Return he must, but not this day,
for here is where he must stay.

Be thankful for what we love.
Pray to the one, high above.
For a belief is the reason
To be thankful this Holiday Season.

A young man's passion.
A young man's whim.
The current fashion,
oh, that was him.
The latest clothes,
the fastest cars
and then I suppose,
all the countless stars,
covering the heavenly sky,
then we knew
that he would likely try,
to be just like you.

Back in time, to the days of yore,
I'd get home after 6 P.M.
Up to the bedroom, to change.
Out of my work clothes and
into my running gear,
shorts, Self wicking top
and sox, depending upon the weather.
A windbreaker, I would don
and find me a baseball cap.
Put on my shoes, out the
then out to the course.
I had 3 courses of 5 miles, 7 and 10 miles
to choose from. I changed courses based
upon my training plan and to keep from
getting bored. This allowed me to stay
focused.
Working hard the first 20 minutes which
was uphill until I reached that pace
when my body, miraculously, as my breathing
got efficient. A pace that was easy,
not hard and I knew or felt like I
could run at that pace forever.
It's a strange euphoria that occurs
in the body. Did it happen all the time?
No, it didn't, but when it did it was
such a good feeling.
There were always some hills on each
course. Hills were always a challenge,
your steps tend to get choppy and shorter.
The key is to just keep going. No stopping
to walk. Shortly after crossing the top
you regained your breath and fell back
into that wonderful elated feeling.
If you gradually increase your miles,
not over 10 per cent a week, your
conditioning improves. You will be
more fit at the end of 4 weeks.
As my running continued, my friend
and I would put in one long run,
usually on a Sunday. We both
got to the point of doing 45 to
50 miles a week.
You can also do this with a walking
routine.
Hope you enjoyed this brief respite
from the usual stuff I post.
Here's to good healthy future.

MFish