Starting over!

My dearest, I love as daylight

More morning  all stars

Loving, this is so great, I crave

Chocolate, weigh 198 lbs.

What happened, yes you live in garden

Life with me, land of plenty

Eggs sauteed in mushrooms, onion

Sauce, superlatives, abstractions;

Let me try my apatite, seculent

Stuffed with wild rice, carrots, cabbage.

Mothers and fathers taught

Us both that marvelous design of wight

Loss decades ago you asked me

Why I charged so much left more

Than credit undone, too many purchases

You let me sit in everlasting hell of money

I don’t have, now too much, I have left

All freeze, those computers

Making purchases I can’t afford

With ASCII coded letters, and built

Into little DOS the under-structure

Windows, true understanding founder

Of Microsoft, his billions, taken

From every user, money apple uses

Like Bill Gates his ingeniousness

DOS underscore, theft of all those

Brilliant schemes, once upon a timeless

Timeless time I wrote code in DOS,

Pseudo programs hinting my ability

Computers–little slower, Professor,

Computer with whom I lunched,

Money violated college rules, if I’d

Ponied up, I built my desire, word into

Outstanding GPA, Word Perfect no

More money for learning, Excellent

Writer complete Thesis Why I wrote

Two Books with two completed Softcover

One Hard, Winter from Spring,

Then in Meditations on Gratitude,

Writer with no money both in Kindle,

Apple, Nook, any electronic Format

No one buys poetry, Caloric money,

With more love, yet egg souffle, cheese

Puffs, brownies, methods into varied,

Habits broken, mine in exercises,

Braking less habits, I dig my soil sit,

Into no land, finding exerciser, mine

With machines, I work out with machines;

You mow grass with our electric mower,

Yet let bits and pieces negating my planed

Salads, fumble into tortillas, stuffed with ground

Meat, with hot sauces, now renounce shortening,

White flower, you slyly brought meta taco

Calories, just fries I ate voraciously,  workout

Pretending our bank role, cheap food.

Not together, each other, how can we

Love intervene? How may we lay down

Our cudgels of food, money!?

I have done it, eight bells before death

You at 63, me at 68, we cannot continue,

Must let go of old bones with gravy,

No competition, no more green envy.

We’re through, I’ll walk in morning light.

You’ll sleep in bed without, bedding separate.

I have spirit, meditate humbly pray let go

Oh, dark one, yes we’re free, free at last,

My words prayer!!! Lord come to us! Amen.

Charles Taylor, MFA C2018

Published by elgwynone

I was a University and community college instructor before retiring. I also worked in fast food restaurants, and retail stores. I am an ordinary man writing for because I want to write and because my education prepared me to write; BA English lit, MA English, EdS higher education, and MFA creative writing, free verse poetry and essays. Blogs are an answer to high-priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to self-publish his first 1000 copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass because in 1855 poetry did not sell. Most poets make a living in other ways than writing. Wallace Stevens was an insurance executive, and TS Eliot was a banker. Many writers teach, and always there have been writers who have written because they needed to express their thoughts and feelings. They wrote not necessarily to make money but to express "the old universal truths of the human heart" according to Faulkner. Here I reach a wider audience I missed than by self-publishing, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience for less expense than self-publishing. I self-published my first books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude; poetry and photo books which were easier to self-publish than to seek a not to seek a publisher company. This blog allows me to write for an interested audience because I write poetry and personal essays. I write for a friendly audience and present to you a slice of my writing. Perhaps you will enjoy what you read.

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