Daily Prompt: I Pledge Allegiance

The Daily Prompt states: Are you patriotic? What does being patriotic mean to you?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us COUNTRY.


Between the ocean and the mountains,

the plains spread wide.

Tall building reach the sky.

Millions upon millions of individuals,


Differences abound,

but all our bound by commonality.


Pursuit of happiness.




The independent spirit lives in all,

regardless of skin, faith, or anything else.

One country.

One people different, yet the same.


In The Evening

Sitting by the soft light,

a glow reminiscent of sundown.

Soft cushion, comforts aching muscles.

The hardcover turns,

embarking on a new adventure.

Maybe a mystery.

Children play on the floor,

the wife engrossed in nimble cross stitch.

Closure of the day is a certainty.

Family relaxes away the daily troubles.

In the evening home fills with quiet peace.

A man’s castle belongs to his family.

In the evening the soul finds comfort,

the mind finds rest.

In the evening some pray,

some dialogue.

In the evening we are all thankful.

Running With Faith

Do I run from faith?

Or embrace the Almighty?

The one above, comes in many faiths.

Those who believe,

anger with those who don’t.

Believe what you wish.

Belief, faith, is what’s in your soul.

No other man, woman, person,

tells you what to believe.

For they are fallible.

Faith is core.

Like a seed that sprouts an apple tree,

faith is personal.

Words of faith create action.

Run with my faith.

To have faith is to live.



The career comes to an end,

like an era in time.

All good things end,

melt away.

A job, a passion,


Life is a book,

marked by chapters.

Retirement is the prologue,

to what comes after.

More than an end,

a beginning.

Genesis of a new life.

No more deadlines.

No clocks to watch.

No bosses to answer to.

No bosses to entertain.

The retiree is the guaranteed lottery winner.

The heart filled with relief.


Retirement is a goal all aim for.

Anxiously await the AARP notice.

Enjoy retiree,

it is deserved.

Wild Berries: An Odd Poem

He used to jump out of trees as a kid.

His mom always yelling at him to stop.

You’ll get hurt one day son.

He grew older,

found a motorcycle.

Flew down roads,

like a jet through the sky.

He was wild,

like the Serengeti.

Scared, never.


Wild at heart.

A berry in nature’s world.

Pain didn’t scare him.

Calm was not his game.

He grew wild,

like berries on the vine.

He once danced with a snake,

a charmer from distant lands.

Wild berry was a euphemism,

he never sat still.

For him, life blew in the wind.

A human kite.

Stitched together by fun.

Life lived, as full as can be.


Paved paths outlining streets.

People hurry

individuals pace.

Concrete roads for human legs,

sometimes accompanied by furry companions.

Many words written about the streets,

but what about sidewalks?

Fairs, vegetable stands,

street vendors.

Much of human existence occurs,

on sidewalks.

Some experience joy,

for those less fortunate,

it’s home.

Stand on a sidewalk and watch a story unfold.

You’ll be amazed.

A Short Story

I’ve written a few short stories. Unfortunately, none published so far. But, I like to share what I’ve written. So I’m adding a page to the blog and occasionally I’ll post a short story. I encourage and request all feedback as that is the best way for a writer to grow. Below is Dreaming Of Life.

Marcus stared out the window of the train car as the sun stained hills of Southern England rolled by. He could hear the other soldiers laughing, and joking. Some were enjoying their card games. Others were sleeping, or at least trying to. Marcus couldn’t believe he was going home. They all were. After two years of war, the fight was over. Marcus watched through the glass as the trees passed by. He could remember the trees in the Ardennes Forest. He could remember the trees, broken, splintered. The snow-covered branches and ground covering the pain and suffering that he, they all witnessed.

Marcus survived the D-Day Invasion. He survived what seemed to be countless hours of marching and cold. He survived the Battle of The Bulge. Continue reading