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Wild Fox – original signed painting

Left Out

Poem by Lynn Wilson

I am an old man left here to die.

Why?

I don’t know.

Seems no one wants or needs me anymore.

Outings – Invites

There are none.

I am just one.

Me,

My thoughts and none.

What do I care of your thoughts!

You care of none..

I am just but one..

Feelings!

That is something of horror!

Go away, go away this day.

Without feelings you cannot care…

Go away feelings you are a lie.

If I listen to you I will surely die…

I don’t care anymore.

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Butterflies

Poem by Lynn Wilson

September - October.

Finally here.

Butterfly - migration.

Excitement galore...

Fritillary, Monarch, Skipper.

Tiger, Swallowtail and more..

Purple, Red, Yellow, and Black.

All the different butterflies.

They have come back...

Oh Wow!

How lovely it is to see.

The beautiful butterflies.

Flying all around me...

There goes a Fritillary, a Monarch.

Tiger and Skipper.

Red-spotted-purple!

Admiral too...

All my life I didn't notice.

Look there goes one!

It flew just past you...

The beautiful - little things.

Like Butterflies, Birds, Flowers and bugs.

Snakes, Squirrels, Opossums, and Racoons...

Never noticed how blue the sky can be.

How high a cloud can go.

The perfect circle water makes.

When you disturb it's sheen...

This world is so full of beauty..

Enjoy it while you can..

One day it will be your time to leave this land.

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Old

Poem by Lynn Wilson

As I get older.

Things become clearer to me.

Changes, a changing.

Never end.

Time eats away at what has been.

New from old.

But old stays the same.

Pain to happy.

Happy to pain.

Old stays the same.

Everything changes.

But old, that's me.

For I have changed all that i will.

Outcast - Overlooked.

Old and not needed.

That is the way.

For old is set in stone.

It refuses to change.

Understand it does not.

Things of new.

There not for old.

Old does not understand what new has to offer.

Reject - Reject.

Old does not need new.

So times moves on.

Grinding and wearing.

Like a stone .

Old just disloves away.

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Springtime and Flowers

Poem by Lynn Wilson

Blue, purple, yellow and more.

Oh!

Flowers I do so adore.

The beauty you bring.

On a sunny day .

Takes my mind a wondering away.

More colors than I can count.

Shapes and sizes.

Big , small, many pedals, no pedals.

Some are wild.

Some are not.

Some grow in a pot.

From valley to mountain top.

They are sure to be found.

Stop and look the next time you're out.

Your day will be a little brighter.

Mind a little lighter.

There is plenty of colors for you all.

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Old Man Pondering

By Lynn Wilson

The older I get.

The harder it is to make a day.

Everything I do seems to require more and more effort.

Simple things.

Tying my shoes.

Loading the dishwasher.

Cooking.

Sweep and mop...

Oh hell no!

Dog hair becomes your hobby.

If I collect enough!

I will just have a lot.

As I have gotten older.

Things appear different.

Time, day.

Have no meaning

The clock becomes a useless ornament.

I have nowhere to be.

My goal today is to just find something,

Something interesting to do.

I find that I am unable to watch TV.

Television has become a device of persuasion.

Propaganda, and lies.

Those things don't sit well with my eyes.

As I look around with no time to bound.

Things move to slow, fast, or not at all.

But what do I care?

I have no clock to compare.

Time has no meaning.

But just one....

Is this the day that I will be done?

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Goodbye

Poem by Lynn Wilson

I feel of a bullet

Deep in my chest

Breathe, breathe

I must rest.

Something is wrong for I fear.

The weight, the pressure.

Maybe death is near.

I fight to breathe

Breathe once more.

Pray they won't find me dead on the floor.

A long life I have lived you see.

A good life for me.

Kids grandkids.

What more could one ask?

If it is my time?

I will graciously go.

Be thanks to you.

My friends.

My family.

The Lord for letting me live.

Thanks to my dear wife.

For she has gave all that she can give.

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Children Poem by Lynn Wilson

I don't care. you'll always be there

The mind set. Children.

Money no matter. Mom - Dad either will do. Give me some money. If you don't.... I won't love you...

Money..... Love.....

Don't....

Do....

Parents... Children..

Where to draw the line..?

Who to blame. It's not a game? Hearts, love, feeling.?

Who is to blame?

No one really cares. Life goes on just the same..

Children....

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The Artist Poem by Lynn Wilson

Who is thy? That see things unknown.... One who's eye looks in different ways. The sky is no longer blue, but red. Things do live in thy head... Thoughts run free - unrestrained. A mind to roam is an artist's home. Ask them and you shall receive. An answer you might not believe. Some work with paint. Others with words. A physicist works with only the mind. Thinking on things to small to comprehend. Like how and where does time do bend. The artist it do, come from within. Thank God for the artist.

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Crimson Pitcherplant (Sarracenia leucophylla)

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Crimson Pitcherplant (Sarracenia leucophylla)