I’m staring at the honor bar.
For those who might not know:
You can take anything you want,
Just noting you did so.
I think I find ironic the
Two words “honor” and “bar”;
For bars aren’t known for honor.
Alcohol can take you far
But far from honor’s mostly
Where it took me, anyway —
It’s not that bars bar honor, but
It just works out that way.
At any rate, I’ll take a soda,
Noting it, as well;
And put the honor back
In honor bar
At this hotel
The world sits ready
To amaze
Those brave enough to see it
= = = = = | = = = = =
(The photo is of the Riga TV and Radio Tower in Latvia. – Owen)
The high hills’ song I hear
As I drive on;
Through Tuscany
Amid the fields of green
For it’s been hours, we’ve
Been up since dawn;
That melody
Has drawn us, unforeseen
To ancient places, things,
A distant past:
A harmony
Of nature, and of wine —
The song of the high hills
We hear at last —
Eternally
On ecstasy
To dine
Asleep around me in
Every direction
One low light from
The front of the plane
Girlish figure in
Subtle motion
Tired with work from
A twelve hour flight
A smile in the dark down
The aisle passing
Dim silhouette from
A woman’s life
Another night’s work in
A stranger’s life
(originally posted 9/6/2014)
I’ve never seen the Taj Mahal,
Or spied the Eiffel Tower;
I’ve never seen the Great (big) Wall
Or a Kensington flower.
I’ve missed so many a famous sight
In strange exotic foreign climes;
And yet I’ve seen this stupid nightlight
Twenty million billion times
