My father flew when I was very young
With symbols like this on a row of planes;
As I, afraid of noise, and quite high-strung,
Would watch as loving homage filled my veins

The hero that’s a father to a boy
Who has not yet been struck hormonally;
When planes are just another giant toy
Who one must wait to play with, patiently

That symbol was a shield, a old roundel,
With wings to symbolize the power of flight;
Although back then, I couldn’t really tell,
Twas just part of the whole, and awesome, sight

The bigger symbol though, for me, back then –
Was what my father symbolized of men

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A prompted post. Photo credit : © Buschmen | – Roundel Of The US Air Force Photo

The Old Man Said —

I saw the fire in his eyes…

The old man said —

You make a God of politics
Now see where you are going to live
Your every thought proscribed for you
Told just how much and when to give

You think your party’s strove and bled
To raise mankind from its perdition;
Don’t think that your kind have fled
To anywhere but self-made superstition —

I saw the fire in his eyes
I asked what he would have me do

He said

Just tell truth, and don’t
Let anyone make robots
Out of you


Photo credit : © |

turned over

“… herein contained …”

Turned Over

this was once
many someones’ full world
and all life’s dreams
or fears
were herein contained

but all of that
has turned over
fear turns to ash
and hope turns to dust

as the ugliness of
our conceit

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Photo credit : © Anton2707 | – Abandoned Room Chair On The Floor Photo

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Date Night Dancing

So of course I married a former professional dancer.

First, I’m staring at the floor,

Afraid I’ll crush her toes. But, then —

I lift my eyes, and see her face,

And cannot look away


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Photo credit : © Sigur1 | – Man And Woman Feet Head To Head Photo

Inspired by a WordPress Photo Challenge prompt

Blue Ridge Mountain Journey

A very early morning destination.

I rise when it is nighttime still,
I leave the last gray city street;
To drive the endless countryside
  As darkness shrouds around me, like a sheet

But as the sun begins to rise
The Blue Ridge mountains come in view
And, creeping, I begin the climb
  That takes me up to where I’m going to

And now, an hour into light
The country there before me spreads;
The cool and smoky air I breathe
  While those I love are yet within their beds

The prospect there before me wakes
The goal of this, my lonely drive:
Inspired by its beauty, I
  Drive home again
  Quite glad to be

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(Inspired by this prompt.)

Photo credit : © Stahrj | – Blue Ridge Mountains Rock Formation In Summer. Photo