My Hour 5 poem uses both text and image prompts. The time capsule is an old standby in the popular imagination— a hunt for buried treasure a promise of revisiting innocence an antidote to the popular complaint The time capsule is an ever-evolving proposition in…

Long days in the rain Make my eyes red My hair puffy My nose stuffy   Long days in the rain Wakes me as the rain pelts my air conditioner Makes me sleepy.

culinary bonanza   i serve a perfect recipe for dressing smart: avoid clingy shirts, opt for clean lines, complement your look with merino wool signals understated taste, ease with life throw on hair gel tame some of that wild   my spectacular spread, decorating guidance:…

Years Ago (Hour 5 Half Marathon 2021) Years ago I buried in my memory Hoping to forget The subject of . . . It was pretty bad And I still am not sure If I want to recall Every now and then I get a…

A light scent and a warm breeze, A tune that melts the worries away. Weightless, touchless, sensory void Receptors blocked and muscles relaxed. Energy pulsing at a low voltage, Just keeping pace with the lub of blood. Fading and stretching into nothing, Life evaporates into…

Upon Death   On 24th December my father died. We were expecting his death But on the day he took his leave He had his breakfast, and soup for supper, went to the toilet by himself. In the evening he was uncomfortable The doctor came…

Wrinkles here, wrinkles there, Squishy skin pops up everywhere. Age is stamping all over me. Wrinkles from the laughter, Those ones I will take, That turkey neck can go however, But pile on the cake! Go grey or try to dye it, Why do I…

You’ve been here You’ve been scared You’ve been uncomfortable Take a breath   You’re hurting You’re lonely You’re anxious Take a breath   It will pass it will heal It will heal Take a breath   You’ll be okay

– from the image – Your plan to escape, was thwarted by the wheels of Fate; For songs are capsules of memory, and you find her, in every melody. Souls speak in stillness — every silence is loud, Beneath distractions, every whisper, is your hearts…

The old man was dreaming about the lions Earnest Hemingway The Old Man and The Sea the old man was dreaming about the lions, while the infant on his lap dreamed of creamy sweetness filling his mouth. So many gates to pass through the silken…