Remembrance Cherita


And so it was

This stern unrelenting soul
That did things his way

Blowing in the wind
Free at last
Ashes to ashes

Pat R


For Thotpurge Micropoetry Month


For Carpe Diem Haiku where the challenge is to write a poem (usually not a cherita) inspired by verse below. For further reading on that prompt go here.


Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmured – “While you live
Drink ! – for once dead you never shall return.

© Omar Khayyam (Tr. FitzGerald)


Carpe Diem Prompt


in rememberance

of loves lost through human strife

poppies on lapels



For further reading on prompt follow link below


Westinghouse Vocational School (2)

This past week has been weird. I found myself on more than one occasion reminding myself to go see how my father was doing. This past October marked the second anniversary of his death.  I couldn’t look at him lying in that coffin. That was a conscious choice. I wonder, if I had, would I now be having these very much alive thoughts of him?  Or would my thoughts be blunted by the stark reality of him lying there, not looking like himself. Who knows.  Well pops, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you are clearly in my head. And it is nice to have an ‘alive’ vision of you outside of that box.





Arms outstretched mimics an airplane as he moved through the crowded sidewalk, banking to the right, banking to the left, then right again.  Thinning the crowd as he claimed space among pedestrians, he crouched, right hand with drumstick wobbling between soiled fingers then in syncopated rhythm on the concrete sidewalk. Left arm extended skyward, grasping a trumpet flailing through the air. He brings pedestrians to a teetering halt as he drums at their feet. He looks up revealing weathered, sun beaten features, smudged cheeks, and matted disheveled hair.  With a twinkle in his eyes, through a snaggletooth grin he asks,“ How are you little lady?” As he stands upright he brings the trumpet to dried lips and begins to blow TAPS. He is no longer invisible. The crowd slows, heads turn, all in full gaze and focused on the player. Time slowed, scurrying had eased to a crawl. And the crowd was forced to attention. TAPS had struck a chord.

Link to TAPS played on a horn

Link to TAPS played on a bugle and its history

“Day is done, gone the sun

From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky

All is well, safely rest

God is nigh….”