Sea Dream Tableau

Boy, Ship, Sailor, Kids, Sea, View, Childhood, Nicely

Виктория Бородинова at Pixabay*


When I grow up, I
Will a mariner –
So hearty become.
Like father before
Me – Who left only
His seafaring dreams.

When I have grown up
A mariner too,
A man like Father,
A bold sailor he,
Now lost in briny
Sea. His legacy?

When I have become
A man of the sea,
I will storms defy
And I unlike my
father – will refuse
In the waves to die.




*While this poem is the construction of my imagination, it was stirred not only by the prompt but by the art and photography of Victoria Borodinova.  Her work on Pixabay is well worth looking at for inspiration and illustration.  This present photo, which I came across a few days ago, has been weighing in my mind, waiting for this prompt to find its poetic release.

Saturday Mix – The Tableau

“The Tableau, a poetry form created by Emily Romano in October of 2008, consists of one or more verses, each having six lines. Each line should have five beats. There is no set rhyme scheme, although rhyme may be present. The title should contain the word tableau.”


Enter a caption


Welcome to my abode –

Here in Mayfair fine

I welcome up-and-coming talent

To decorate this place of mine


You might think that I’ve more money –

Than I do – common sense

In running down my property –

Driving down the rents


No, it’s kind of an art academy

As I hope you can plainly see

Some day, I will be the proud owner

Of a work – by the next – Banksy




Photo Challenge #326

Raw Deal

Abstract, Beef, Britain, British, Brown, Carrots

Image by Shutterbug75 from Pixabay

Strange things can happen

Wherever you may be

Funny to you,

Not so much to me

When planning a dinner – guests to impress

Hoping they won’t see

That the kitchen’s a mess

But that’s not the odd part

No – not even – the start

It’s raw roast and potatoes –

As your a la carte

When turning the oven on –

Is the thing you forget –

Filling you with confusion

Filled with regret

So of course there’s – just one thing to do:

Pass around the copy – of the delivery menu




*  Unfortunately based on a true event.


Sunday Writing Prompt: A funny thing happened on the way to the kitchen/bedroom/laundry.


The Lounge


‘Cigar Bar Evening Lounge’ by Brent Lynch

Lush melodies drew her to the door of the lounge, the friendly smiles enticed her inside.  Chardonnay hadn’t intended at stopping here, as was on the way to her usual haunts for a night of clubbing.  There was something about this place that captured her imagination though, and just one drink wouldn’t take too long.  But just in case, she typed Might be late onto her iPhone.  Hmm, no signal she observed. That’s weird. 

She glanced around the place, the ambiance was wild, almost like it belonged in a Mickey Spillane novel.  She was a little self-conscious as she made her way to the bar, as her clothes didn’t exactly fit into her surroundings.  But hey, a little black dress fits in anywhere, she reassured herself.

As she reached the bar, the barman cast a suspicious eye at her.

“Can I have a house white please?” she asked.  This merely resulted in the barman’s expression changing to puzzlement.

“Make it a Manhattan, Louie,” a sharply dressed gentleman seated at the bar said.  “And put it on my tab.”

“Um, okay,” Chardonnay said a little suspiciously.  “Thank you.”

“So what’s your name Doll-face,” the rugged stranger asked.

“Chardonnay, like the wine,” she responded.

The man stared quizzically for a moment, and then said, “That’s an unusual name.”

“My mom, loves the stuff,” she replied with a shrug and a feigned giggle.  “You know I have never been in a theme bar before,” she said.

The man gave another brief look of confusion and then said, “My name is Edgar, but everybody calls me Edge.  What brings a girl like you into a place like this, Chardene?”

“Chardonnay,” she corrected.  “I was on my way to The Galaxy,” she said, “but stopped here because of the music.”

The Galaxy?” he queried.  “That dive ain’t a place for a dame like you.”

“Um – thank you,” she said, again unsure of how to respond.

“You know the mob has their finger in that pie,” Edge said.  “Though it’s a good place to find information sometimes, as long as I’m discrete.”

“Information?” Chardonnay asked.

“Yeah, I’m a P. I..  Maybe you’ve heard of me – Edge O’Malley.”

“Oh, that Edge,” she said with feigned admiration, in an attempt to play along with the establishment’s theme.   This might be fun to do some night with Zoe and Cari, she thought. We could dress up and it would be a ball, playing make believe.

“Well Edge, thank you for the drink, but I need to get over to The Galaxy and meet some of the dames from the office,” she said.

This again drew an uncertain look from Edge, but he shook her hand and said, “You take care of yourself, Doll.”

Chardonnay then made her way across the lounge, and out into the streets of 1947 Los Angeles.




First Line Friday: Lush melodies drew her to the door of the lounge, the friendly smiles enticed her inside.


Deepest Cut of All

What Was It Like to Be an Executioner in the Middle Ages? | Live ...

Image: Shutterstock

It was perjury plain and simple, but no one was going to seriously question the crown’s witness.  The entire affair, and that term is chosen advisedly,  was orchestrated by the king.  The queen had grown to be a liability, and there were fresher flowers to be picked at court.  So the queen’s own bodyguard gave testimony, and as the lies and half truths were uttered – his words cut deeper than a knife.  Deeper than a knife indeed, for soon the young queen would have a date with the Headsman.




Metaphor this week is: – His words cut deeper than a knife.

Under the Big Top: A Triquint

Zoo, Lion, Animal In Cage


Big cats frustrated in a cramped cage
Their pacing concealing rage
People to engage
Tiger entertains all – like a mage
Escape’s chances – seeks to gauge
Wander-lust assuage
Breakout stage
Lions pounce about upon the stage
Look for nod from Tiger sage
Sign given – plan wage
Jump offstage



Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie: Triquint

Triquint, a poem for created by Sylvia A. Feeley, which consists of 3 verses, 5 lines each. Lines 3 and 4 of verse 1 (Refrain) repeat in verses 2 and 3. The syllable count for each stanza is 9, 7, 5, 3, 1 and has an aaAAb rhyme scheme.

Mamude The Younger


The open sky stretched from sand to horizon and the riders advanced on the oasis.  The day would be blistering, and young Captain Mamude knew he would need to make the most of the shade and waters in their brief stop here if he had any hope of getting his prisoners to the Protector before midweek.

Eri Mamude was a competent officer, and he carried on in his family’s long tradition of service and loyalty to the Sultanate.  His father had been Chamberlin to the late monarch, and he himself had shown so much promise that he quickly rose to be a Band Leader, or Captain, in the elite Storm Riders.  His superiors universally trusted him and saw him as a safe pair of hands.   This was especially true to his commander, Ral the Protector.

Mamude was a slight built man, with large expressive eyes, but no one should have mistaken these “gentle” features as signs of weakness.  Mamude the Younger as he was often called had the heart of a lion and the stamina of a camel.

The civil war had caught him off guard.  His father had been implicated in the assassination of the Sultan, a crime he knew his father would have never committed, and he himself was under suspicion.   It was only because of the Protector of the North’s confidence in him that he had not been sent to Prince Yaqub to face the trial, and invariably a torturous death.

Before the full outbreak of war, Ral’s ability to protect him was limited, so his commander thought it expedient to send the young Eri to patrol the deserts.  Since the conflict had escalated and having already mastered the patrol routes, Mamude had continued on as an executive officer of the force sent to enforce the Ral’s emergency edict on the limiting of foreign interference in Ralulee affairs.

He now looked at his captives, and found them to be a far cry from the seasoned mercenaries which had been reported to him.  All were young, and even the oldest, the raven-haired woman in the Farlandian dress, was no older than thirty in his estimation.  They were, however, to be escorted under guard to the Ral for judgement.




First Line Friday: The open sky stretched from sand to horizon and the riders advanced on the oasis.


imageedit_1_6815356034 (1)

To gorge on Cheddar – is a thing I crave

Mature ripe cheeses – aged in a cave

First created – surplus milk to save,

It soon caught on, becoming quite a rave

If from the Gorge, “Authentic Cheddar” – is the name it’s gave

But supermarket cheeses – merely give the title a wave

For some – to eat the real stuff – is something brave

For some of these cheeses are aged in a grave*




* Aging racks can be seen in Gough’s Cave as well as Cheddar Man


Saturday Mix – Rhyme Time:

  1. save
  2. brave
  3. cave
  4. wave (or waive)
  5. gave
  6. grave

Like Autumn Leaves On A Summer’s Day

Photo by mh cheraghi on

Like autumn leaves on a summer’s day

It seems our lives have gone astray

Crises of health

Inequalities – no longer stealth

Disruptions in full array


Malala’s plight, from our minds

Like she from Oxford, now has passed

Eclipsed like Greta’s passionate pleas

No longer thought worthy of media mass-ed


Like autumn leaves on a summer’s day

It seems our lives have gone astray

Leave now behind hate and politics

Let us hope to find our way




Photo Challenge #321


Exploring The Unknown

Hall, Factory, Industry, Pforphoto, Factory Building


Wait!” Hal warned.

Placing his hand on the worn handrail, Dillon turned to face his cousin. “Wait for what?” he responded.

“I’m not sure that catwalk can take our weight.  It looks really rickety.”

“Don’t be stupid.  We used it last summer and it was fine,” Dillon challenged.  “You know you can be really annoying with your paranoia.”

“First of all, I’m not paranoid, just cautious.  Secondly, last year we were a year younger, and lighter.  Not to mention that it was a really stormy winter and it looks like the roof is leaking.”

Just then there was the sound of metallic grinding and the handrail gave way under Dillon’s grip.  He jerked away and instinctively jumped towards his cousin, as the entire structure collapsed into the abandoned factory below.

“Maybe we should go explore the Mall instead,” Dillon said catching his breath,

“Good idea,” Hal said.  “Watching girls is a lot more interesting than old buildings.”




Saturday Mix – Double Take:  Homophones

wait – remain in readiness
weight – an amount of heaviness


warn – to advise of a hazard
worn – displaying evidence of use