The Prompt Pot: Hills

Are they embryonic mountains, waiting to be born?

Or the sad remains of mighty peaks crumbled

Left barren and forlorn?

Mere wrinkles upon Mother Earth’s face,

Memories of a fallen place?

By wind and rain and time undone,

Or a promise of things to come?



Grave rhymes with Brave

Remember the fallen, not just this day

The dads, sons and brothers who did not make their way

Back home to the loved ones they fought to defend

Who in far away places instead met their end

So many, so young, before their time died

They answered the call with honor and pride

On the sea, in the sky, in jungle and sand

They surrendered a life that was otherwise planned

So today of all days remember the brave

Those soldiers and sailors sent to the grave

Summers in Purgatory

Got my stack of Mad magazines                                                                                                          and a box of crayons

That should hold me a while

Fresh batteries in the radio                                                                                                                  Jug of water and a bag of chips

Get me through ’til this is over

Oh, here’s the weather now                                                                                                                  sunny skies, mid 70’s today

Guess it won’t matter tomorrow

Other side of the world Arvid waiting                                                                                                flies buzz in the goat droppings

He doesn’t have a radio

But it’s all the same

Here or there

And nowhere…

That’s where we’ll be tomorrow


The Ship of Fools


via Daily Prompt: Unmoored


Safe at the quay

Where the cargo was stored

When at end of the day

Our ship came unmoored

There were none at the rails

It was too late before

We could run up the sails

We were drifting from shore

The Captain asleep

The crew drunken from rum

Cast off for the deep

Deaf, Blind and Dumb

The stream current did flow

To carry us toward

A place that none know

Our ship was unmoored

A northeast wind foul

As the tempest it came

Like the Banshee howl

That no hand may tame

Chum in the water

Blood on the deck

Like lambs to slaughter

A noose ’round our neck

Rose higher the storm

Pelting hard rain

A whirlpool did form

To Poseidon’s domain

No treasure awaits

There is no reward

And no fury abates

When the ship goes unmoored

So choose wisely your men

Hold fast to the helm

That you be not condemned

To that watery realm

The voyage uncharted

The destination not yours

When from port you have parted

On a ship left unmoored






Patterns within patterns within…

via Daily Prompt: Pattern


Patterns that form free

Patterns that we see

Those that show in the stars

and those that bring us where we are

There are patterns we know

and patterns that don’t show

They are concealed to eyes still blind

Unrevealed in the human mind

Yet the seeing eye can still resist

Deny what is there; It does not exist

There are patterns made and patterns random

Accept or refuse, these work in tandem

With belief or faith or intuition

Bring these shapes into fruition

Some may see and some may not

Patterns only live in thought

Like the tree in the forest

“Does it make a sound?”

When unobserved, no one around?

As it crashes to the ground?

If there’s none to care

are they there?

These patterns shown

They may be known

To eyes that are observing

Yet for those who sleep

Will as secrets keep

In the dark and undeserving




Doubt is a Spectre


via Daily Prompt: Doubt


A shroud that haunts

Lurking ever near

And all it wants

Is to feed on your fear

Put faith to the test

That makes you reject

Those first instincts the best

Because some might object

They’re so much smarter than you

Or at least so they think

Why, your point of view?

Sets their closed minds ablink

Do not challenge their facts

Do not question the wise

Just shut up and relax

And swallow their lies

Doubt is a spectre

Made to silence the few

Who can be the reflector

Of the evil they do

For your truth is not their truth

They cant have it that way

Do not what they do, just do what they say

For the rules, you see, are for those lesser than they




Winter Dawn

It is here, The skies shouted

To no one in particular

While the clouds shed their tears

To white powder, floating, drifting

Where even our epiphanies are clouded

Mother draws her blanket

Covers her head and slumbers

A new day awakens unseen

Sun and moon will mark the time

While she dreams of her garden

Her morning bright in the distance

Far beyond low winter sun