Send me a message, you say. Is this path that I'm on the right way? Give me some kind of a clue! No reply. Guess it's all down to you.
image: Marc and Angel Hack Life
inspiration: SIGN from
My daily appointment with what passes for a face is a chance to tell myself some serious home truths regarding my abject failure to measure up to expectations - responding to this utterly unfair and unjustified ticking-off only seems to make things a whole lot worse so I very rarely object but nod and slink away when I'm not looking.
inspiration: Mirror from
plain to see eye don't lie read the pictures can't deny everyone is smiling now views backdrop the ego show
inspiration: perceive from
Very disappointing, don't you think, today's word? One must use it, though. No backsliding permitted! Unpromising starters can offer a stimulating challenge to the acrostician. Could VOUCHER perhaps turn out to be the portal to the perfect poem? Having come this far, however, I'm beginning to doubt it. Ending the poem well is looking increasingly unlikely. Redeem this failed effort for a more successful outcome next time around.
inspiration: VOUCHER from
Each life a voyage, sailed without a map, Into the wild blue yonder. Ports of call Are all we have by way of destination. Island hops, our only means of travel, Lean on local knowledge for successful Landfall or else we fail to make the coast And drift in wishful dreams of lucky chances. Winds and waves the drivers, all our hopes Depend on how our skills of trim and tack Hold up against the flow. Ashore we meet The ones we come to love and vow to journey On beside, for nothing stays the stream Of time and tide. Our voyage side by side In shared navigation carries us To further havens: cradles for our young Who come aboard and sail with us awhile Until the charms of other charts take hold. An archipelago of choices lies ahead And intermingled courses take us on A mystery tour where curtains hide the truth That all of us are borne at equal speed Into the dying light, a great armada Floating as one ship but fighting shy Of what this means: that there will come an hour For each of us when sailing arts and crafts Begin to fail. Perhaps we hit the rocks Or sink in open water without trace Unless another vessel bears away, To hazy far horizons, memories Of sailing days and island ways with us. And what of our own recollections, isles Of long ago whose colours glow as bright As ever in our dreams? Unless they're told, Such visions fade as if they've never been. But who would want to hear of days gone by Unless the telling strikes a chord with here And resonates with now? To stay in tune And keep in time, no better way than watch And hear the young at play and - best of all! - To join their games and find our inner child Still knows the way! And when does childhood end? For some of us, the adult moment comes Along with our first child into the world. As new-born grown-ups, all our energies Are spent in readying our kids to face The full-on life we somehow just fell into. Second-time around, when grandkids come, Our adulthood is worn more lightly. Now We see the children that we were more clearly Mirrored in them and shining just as bright, Such innocence a refuge - then as now - From worldly weariness and dulled belief. But hope is never lost that's been deferred And springs eternal in the risen seed. Such innocence a refuge from the storm Though no hiatus, not a moment saved From time's relentless flow that carries all Before it: people, islands, planets, stars. Borne on by winds and waves to our conclusion, At the last we salvage consolation. Childhood can bring our little lives full circle. Sailing days and island ways recycle. From early on, our rhymes are primed with truth. We all dip heads into the deep blue sea So love the whistling wind and glancing spray, The creaking timberwork and flapping sail, The peril just beyond the safety rail, The expertise that keeps mischance at bay. To live with death in life, our human lot, We seek out life in death: the power to love The more because we know that time for us Is running fast and we are running slow. In age, what joy to watch the young at play And hear their puppet parody of what We seem to be when who we really are Inhabit realms more like their own than they Could well imagine! Little do they know, Beneath our senior surface dwells a child Rejoicing in the sight and sound of kids That keep the flame of life alive and well. Our powers passed, we glory in their constant Urge to run and leap and race and climb And ride and dance as if we danced and rode And climbed and raced and leapt and ran beside them. Thus, what draws them on to unseen futures Resurrects in us our vanished pasts. Dave Kingsbury
image: Mama Lisa’s World
believe the hype and go for broke, let it rip, attack the woke, never have concern for others, end the creed all men are brothers?
inspiration: balance from
All possibilities are being considered. Some possibilities are more probable than others. Possibilities considered improbable will be deemed impossible. Expect changes to this policy in the light of unexpected developments. Circumstances alter cases and we take no responsibility for any decisions. There is, however, a continued commitment to promising the moon on a stick.
inspiration: ASPECT from