Landmark glowing
Beacon bright
Giving direction through the night
Padre
Beacon Bright
Poetry
Charming
To be a Prince Charming requires no real nobility, merely a strong jaw and cleft chin. A suitable castle or palace is a must, to hold a few balls within. Some flashy clothes and a servant or two, to pass out invitations and decrees. With all that in place, it won’t take too long, till peasant girls will go weak at the knees. Being Prince Charming is easy you see, as it is a position of birth right plain. Just beware of those Disney guys, as their constant presence is often a pain.
Padre
Heroes’ Exploits End
———————–
White crosses glisten
In rows upon well kept lawns
Heroes’ exploits end
Padre
Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, January 20th 2021, (special) Death Poems
Dune-Way
A dune-way path straight to the sea
No need to brave loose sand and tangled grass
Such ease delivered to a traveller’s way
What more can a beach-goer ask?
And yet there are some who would the rough way go
To experience the natural ways of to-s and fro-s
As for me the boardwalk I’ll take
For my achy old knee’s sake
Padre
Thames Under Moonlight
Thames under moonlight
Slowly estuary bound
London left behind
For Tower and Parliament
The river has no regard
Padre
Connections
One flight ended, another yet to start –
Making tight connections is not for the feint of heart.
There are those that prefer – a longer wait instead –
Using a suitcase for a pillow and a hard seat for a bed.
In hectic crazy terminals – for distant gates you chase
Only to learn of flight delays – at the end of your race.
But at last with connections made –
Your journey can proceed,
And you swear that next time around
It will be a cruise you need.
Padre
Disoriented
Disoriented
Whereabouts – without a clue
Now what shall I do?
Padre
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge – Write a haiku about being lost, without using the lost.
Lure
Lure
Lore
A tall tale
The big one that got away
Grain of truth
Exaggerated
Hooked
Padre
Word association
By An Eye Captured
By an eye captured
By a hand adorned
With each little brushstroke
The image is formed
Is it an expression
Of its subject true?
Is that really what art’s meant to do?
Is it the spirit of the thing that’s at play?
No!
It’s that the soul of the artist that sees it that way
Padre
An Evening Damp
Rain falls
On damp pavement
Night falls on city streets
Commuters scramble homeward-bound
To sleep
Padre
