Comfort Never Puerile

Mother, Woman, People, Kid, Baby, Child, Hug, Love
Pixabay

The comfort

Of a loved one’s hugs

Is never a puerile thing –

Though a parent’s arms

May memories of childhood’s

Peace and tranquillity bring.

And a lover’s warm embrace

An adult world can help you –

Bravely face –

Moments united against all fears

Their cheek against your face


Padre

Prompt’s: Student’s word of the day – Puerile

Fandango’s FOWC with Fandango — Comfort

Heading To Night

Paint Chip Poetry

In a cabin in the woods  –

As from Summer to Autumn time bends

The cotton blossom has all been picked –

Leaving but bare brown stems.

The family together  – safe secure

With trust in God and one another

The changing seasons brings no fear

And as the sun begins to set – heading to night,

As the night owl begins her evening flight

Our family hold each other warm and tight


 

Padre

Paint Chip Poetry #43: Prompt – To Night by Percy Bysshe Shelley.  “Our paint chip words and phrases are cabin in the woods, deviled eggscottonAquariusblossom, showtime, and night owl. The bonus angel card is trust . . . .  Use however many of these words and phrases you want. I don’t plan to use them all this week, just to mix things up a bit.”

Have

Mama, Children, Dance, Fun, Family, Baby
Pixabay

They say there are the haves

And yet others that have yachts

Then there are the most of us

That are the have nots

But if that is the way we measure our net wealth

Aren’t we devaluing things like love and our good health?

Look at your children as they go about their play

Do they know you love them at the end of the day?

It isn’t about the computer screens,

Or the toys with which they play

It is hearing your encouragement,

And feeling the security within the home where they stay

It need not be a mansion, or stately manor vast

It just needs to be a loving home,

In which that love does last


Padre

Gregor

Hongkong, Hk, Salami, Glossary, Store
Pixabay

——–

I don’t know what they are so upset about. It’s not like it’s unusual these days, Gregor fumed to himself.  Family traditions are stupid anyway.  Isn’t this a free country?

But upset they were at his abandoning of a tradition that dated back to even before family’s arrival from the old country over a century before.  Gregor Gregorson had arrived with his father back in 1904, and set up a small butcher’s shop near the town centre.  Ever since then, the family had maintained its identity as Gregorson’s Fine Meats.   Six generations of Gregor Gregorson’s had provided the community with the highest quality meat.  

Gergor the Ninth, now a father himself, had thrown the family into chaos.  Not only had he married a vegan, but now he was stepping away from the family firm to open a green grocer’s, of all things.   If that was not enough of a shock, he made matters worse with his son’s name.   Yes, how could the family ever forgive him for naming the family’s future head – Gregory?

 

Padre

 

Play Date

MorgueFIle March2020  b8609bb286958f154ff5c03730f61fc4

MorgueFIle March2020 b8609bb286958f154ff5c03730f61fc4

“I really don’t believe this,” Barbara said in exasperation.

“Just keep looking,” her husband, Dan urged.

“I am,” she snapped, her irritation at the situation rising.

“Are you sure this is the right area?” Dan’s sister, Karen asked.

“Yes, Honey, it’s right where Jeff Junior said,” her partner assured her.

“Well we better hurry up,” Barbara huffed.  “The sun’s setting and the tide’s coming in.  I can’t believe Little Jeff would have buried his own cousin in the sand like this, and then leave her!”

 

(84 words)

 

Padre

 

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER

 

 

Gratitude for Our Inherited Traits

Banana Split, Banana, Ice, Dessert, Suites, Sundae

Pixabay

Some things they say in a family runs

Great bakers, intuition, or having green thumbs

Be it mommy’s key lime or grandma’s hydrangeas,

or the mystical talent for just knowing strangers

But the best inheritance of all

Is being taught the good taste

To eat banana split ice cream

And filling our face

 

Padre

 

Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #27

Using a title word – gratitude, the terms – banana splitkey limemystical, and grandma’s hydrangeas, and the theme “It runs in the family”

The New Contract

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January MorgueFIle b73d79db023d064c929f24196dc3383c

I had been a rather lean year for Taylor Brothers Gardens and Fencing.  The new contract was going to be a boon for them.  In fact, Jake thought it a good time to bring his son-in-law, Steve on board.

Steve was “between jobs,” and it had been that way ever since Jake had known him.  Oh, there had been a few interviews, but Steve always came back still jobless with phrases like, “It’s a tight economy,” and such on his lips.

“Okay, this is going to be your big chance to prove yourself,” Jake told his new hire.

“What is it exactly that I need to be doing?” his son-in-law inquired.

“Really, simple.  You will go to the address on the front of the file and replace the rotted fence posts and run some new wire.  It really is as easy as that.  You start in the morning, and I will see you on Memorial Day.”

“Memorial Day?” Steve queried.

“You’ll see,” Jake said with a contented smile.  He never did care much for that boy.

 

Padre

 

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: 2020: WEEK #14

Homeward: A Shadorma 

Image by Alessandro Danchini from Pixabay 

Homeward bound
Thoughts like me adrift
Gone so long
Kith and kin
Now to me unfamiliar
I’m now a stranger

 

Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge  is to write a syllabic poem on a theme of the poets choice.  This week I thought I would give the shadorma form a try.  Colleen’s site notes that,  “The Shadorma is a poetic form consisting of a six-line stanza (or sestet). Each stanza has a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five syllables in the second line, three syllables in the third and fourth lines, seven syllables in the fifth line, and five syllables in the sixth line (3/5/3/3/7/5) for a total of 26 syllables.”

With the winter holidays approaching many people will be making a homeward journey.  Some to familiar friends and family, and others to more distant childhood homes.  For some these reunions are a mix of confusion as well as joy, and I hope I have captured that in the poem.

Unfortunately, I will as like most years will not be able to return to the land of my upbringing and the loved ones there.

Padre

His Future

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image – Winsome Woods

Ernie sat in the corner and pouted.  He couldn’t believe the unfairness of it all.  He had his dreams, and now they seemed dashed.  Okay, Dad was a plumber, and Mum was from a long line of electricians, but why should that matter?  After all it was his life wasn’t it?  But no, his father had put his foot down, and Ernie was going to enter an apprenticeship into a building trade.  Yet, all he ever wanted was to go to university and become a librarian.

 

Padre

 

Photo Challenge #291