All writing

In age-old Vienna, Budapest and Prague,
where emperors once sought to be immortal,
and time dilates, proceeding with a lag --
it's offering the visitor a portal:

One step and you are in the medieval;
another, and you're back into the fray,
beware the tourist traps -- the staff is civil,
but if you aren't buying, please make way.

These cities, once so arrogant and proud,
their empire long dismantled and forsaken,
relying on their bones to get a crowd,
succeeding, hardly any road not taken,

while promising: you ain't seen nothing yet,
and weren't we great once? Please don't forget.

like fallen angels, they're abandoning their host
their crimson color marks the depth of their betrayals
they've fled, forsaking both their duty and their post
allowed the breeze to put the wind behind their sails
and carried downward, some while seeking greener grass
while others, shameless, always destined for the bottom
do not attempt to hide their joy that summer passed
unroll the scarlet, blood-red carpet, here comes autumn

if life was like a graphic novel
each scene in anime-style print
no need to labor to unravel
some hidden meaning, nor to squint
in search of deeper revelations.
The simple plot won't try your patience
The ugly plain, and good and bad,
while neither's willing to be had,
each knows its role in the endeavor,
and will perform as if on cue,
as if it knows just what to do.
The bad, though nothing if not clever,
will always lose out in the end.
And good will win. Good is your friend.

she loves them, yes she does, fear not
the daisy, the forget-me-not
the dandelion, daffodil
she'll sit and stare at them, sit still
think of wildflowers in green grass
and all futures yet to pass

Author notes: image from facebook

The page remains intentionally blank,
still full of possibility and danger,
still unafraid of influence and rank,
and ready to show kindness to a stranger.

An empty slate that's eager to receive,
to demonstrate how flexible, how pliant,
in service of the worldly or naive.
Its destiny: subservient? Defiant?

Will it become a missive to the world?
A pamphlet, a brochure, a call to action?
An ancient scroll that's yet to be unfurled?
A witty and insightful, clever caption?

Will it remain unflinching, unafraid?
Start typing, and the choices have been made.

If love is blind, then I be eagle eyed,
and savor every flaw and imperfection;
an appetite that cannot be denied.
Where love would hug and cuddle for affection,
I'd calculate, and while I lie in wait,
imagine the calamities befalling
the target, let its sad and sorry state,
my raison d'etre, dedicated calling,
wash over me, a soothing, calm effect,
a salve, a balm-like nourishing sensation.
Reality, though, tends to interject,
and lest my scheming perish in gestation,
refocus on the target once again.
For worse, at least according to my plan

cat ladies rule as the dog ladies bristle
some will consider the cat a dog whistle
but perish the thought, cats ignore your commands
and keep their claws in if you follow their plans

Author notes: image from author prompt to GPT

If God is love and love is blind, no wonder,
that we are in the mess that we are in.
No need then to pontificate, nor ponder,
nor blame -- how unoriginal -- our sin,
since it is all on him. What good forgiveness,
what purpose to the sparing of the rod --
and not that this is any of our business,
it's him who runs the show, as he's the god,
but still.-- why the appearance of a trial?
It's evident no jury of our peers
could offer any more than a denial,
descending, as expected, on deaf ears.

If God is love, and love is blind in kind,
be kind as well, there's still time to rewind.

seen it all and been it all
had cigarettes and alcohol
and through it all, she's had a ball
while never ceasing to enthrall

Author notes: image from facebook

I wanted coffee with my sugar;
in search of, went into a bar,
and sat right next to a good looker.
She said: you’re close, but no cigar.

“Get you a drink?” I asked, politely.
When she agreed, I said: “a scotch?”
She shrugged her shoulders, nodded slightly,
did not protest the choice too much.

Bartender pours the girl a tulip,
then points to me: what do you drink?.
I take a moment but to think,
and say “I’ll settle for a julep”.
then ask the lady: “can you pay?
They took my credit card away”.

Author notes: image from author prompt to GPT

there it floats, the water lily
while she's thinking, will he, will he
will this stubborn man propose...
but the lily, not a rose

Author notes: image from facebook

Caught it right outside my windows.
Under it, a pot of gold.
Ever wonder what is in those?
In those stories that are told
of unreachable horizons -
can you get there - there's a prize.
Some advice - it surely wizens -
it's for hope that never dies.

Author notes: photo by author