Tertullian Would Have Loved It Here:

Just not the famous one.
The one who would have liked it
Would have tastes second to none.

He’d love the river and the mills,
The green and woody rolling hills;
He would like, I guess, the rain
Which is, these days, my morning pain.

And if Tertullian was mayor
I think he’d see, from over there
In Carthage, where he used to fare
That our roads are in disrepair.

Perhaps to fix them he’d would be
Wrapped up in obscure heresy
Of the old Montanist kind
But, oops, I think that I’ve been blind
Cause I forgot
That he was not
That Tertullian at all
Some other one I don’t recall

Since I don’t live in Carthage, I
Will end this post
And say goodbye

(..)

if i could bring the moments back

if I could bring the moments back,
the pictures frozen there in time,
we would be laughing in the snow
that now falls only in my mind.

for you were lovelier than all
this cold and wintered heart has known;
and i can see, unfaltering,
the love and grace that lately shone

from out of your once smiling face.
enthusiasm pure and clear
in moments that i treasure now
that you have gone
and i’m still here


This is a prompted post.

Ziena’s Paradox

Vague gists…

The Xyst at the Stoa of Attalos.
The Xyst at the Stoa of Attalos.

Ziena had quit,
So tired, pained —
Days were endless,
Nights just lonely

Under a cloud
For years it rained —
Beguiling kisses
Making only

Xysts &

Vague gists

= = = = =

(via The Daily Prompt)

Generations

“No one remembers the former generations, and even those yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow them.”

Part 1

Cruel laughter rings
Around a five-year-old boy

Look at the little baby!
He carries a teddy bear!

And tears appear in the eyes
Of the young, confused boy

And the toy bear

Part 2

She was a lithesome seventeeen
Wanting to leave girlhood behind;
He was so handsome, quiet, forceful
He filled her soul, her heart, her mind

Giving herself to adult pleasure
Finding too late the price of lust;
Violence breaking out in ruin
Having a baby, broken trust

Young single mom setting up a nursery
Worn teddy bear for the baby’s bed;
The only gift that his father left him
So many things must stay
Unsaid

Part 3

His mother died when he was only six
He had no father that he’d ever known
He set off with his grandmother to live
Some other place, with everything unknown

His only friend, a tattered sewn-up toy
The house smelled funny, all his tears were spent;
He hugged his only friend up to face
Just trying to recall
His mother’s scent

(..)

The Introversive Way

A brief primer on introverts, for you extroverts out there.

The extrovert, whose daily life
Seems naught but dull routine
Will seek adventure when they can
Amidst a crowded scene

For people give them energy
That work just drains away:
And so they need excitement
When they get a holiday

But me, I am an introvert
And people make me tired;
It’s not that I don’t like them
It is just the way I’m wired

So when I get a holiday
From busy working life
I will go someplace peaceful
By myself, or with my wife

For yes — I do like travelling
But don’t like hue-and-cry:
I like to sit and watch the world
Just watch it
Going by

 

(Inspired by this prompt.)

A Sonnet on Wealth

The cost of living shackled…

In truth, this kind of prompt’s wasted on me
For I have all I want, substantially
I can go where I will most of my days
But get quite little from prideful displays

Of pomp or wealth. These things bring comforts, true:
But also bear a price as all things do,
The cost of living shackled to one’s gold
To rise and fall as it does, and grow old

In knowing every place you go’s for show.
The vanity of life that all can know
If ever money takes at last its pawn
A soul that’s wasted, then forever gone

And so if all resource to use was mine
I hope that I’d leave most of it behind

= = = =

(Note – I realize this is cheating and doesn’t answer the prompt. I also realize it makes me sound nobler than I really am. Take my word for it — I’m not.)

Wayward

“I’m sorry,” – I heard that,
But then the rest was hard to hear –
“I should have told you months ago,” –
And my mind raced with fear

“Bye,” her sad voice said,
And then the voicemail ended there
To leave me hanging on
And questioning exactly where

My stepdaughter was now,
And what had happened, knowing she
Had once again resurfaced
From her life of misery

Her drug addiction demons
Having driven her away
And us not knowing where she was
From day to fear-filled day

And now this message. Broken-hearted,
Aching for my girl
Who, cast away, unhappy
Languished somewhere in the world

When softly, gently I heard knocking
On my study door
And opened it to find her there,
Much as she was before

As she threw arms around me,
And as many tears were shed

“I’m home now, daddy,”

“Welcome back.”

Like my heart –

From
The
Dead


 

(“Wayward” – 11-9-2014)