The Charm and The Grace of this Medieval Town

The Village On The Hill By Mary Stubberfield

The Village On The Hill By Mary Stubberfield
Prompt by Jeremy Farmer – Jeremy’s Daily Challenge
Picture This Monday 13 January

The charm and the grace of this medieval town,

This village on the hill from fairy tales I’ve found.

My imagination consumes me actively running wild,

I make-believe this is my world, dreaming like a child.

A coffee in the square at a quaint little cafe’,

Shopping and bartering, children at school and play.

The smell of bread baking from the house on the right,

The sound of babies crying as they go to sleep at night.

The hustle and bustle of commuters heading home,

Reuniting with loved ones who’ve spent all day alone.

A kiss on the cheek and a warm and loving embrace,

They sit down to dinner in their pleasant usual place.

Perhaps a night in or an evening on the town,

Spreading out a blanket over the cool and grassy ground.

Staring at the stars in the moonlit summer sky,

The young fall in love as shooting stars go by.

These things that I see in this village on the hill,

Are just my imagination, my mind with pleasure fill.

It sounds so charming, this town from time of old,

With beauty much more precious than diamonds or of gold.

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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

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Prompt by Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Picture This Monday 13 January

Simply Being Kind (Tanka)

Simply being kind

So incredibly easy

Yet hard for so many

Its easier to be cruel

Than to see good in others

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Little Thought Do We Give (Acrostic)

Little thought do we give at time of conception,

Isolated in our cocoon of lust and love.

Feeling as one, our sensual obsession,

Embraced in our skins like hand in a glove.

Another’s life we send on its wondrous journey,

No consideration given to responsibility taken.

Despite their affect on our futures, so blurry,

Doned in false wisdom we vow to ne’er be shaken.

Even in this arrogance the question must arise,

After time to ponder has settled our voice.

The seriousness of our action lay right before our eyes,

Having created something of beauty with or without choice.

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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Looking to Others (Tanka)

Looking to others
Many go seeking their joy
Never finding it
Because it was never lost
It was in them all along
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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

I Grow Weary Of This Eternal Fight (Sonnet)

I grow weary of this eternal fight,

Shackled to the rack of banker and coin.

Neither watch out for societies rights,

Instead every turn–a kick to the groin.

Warned of their evil for centuries past,

We heeded their warning ’til memories fade.

Enslave us they must, right on down to the last,

By our sweat and blood until death we have paid.

It stops not here for the cycle goes on,

Our children continue to pay on our debts.

We and our progeny are nothing but pawns,

On whose lives without conscience they’ve all placed their bets.

The greed of our system we claim best in the world,

Quite possibly it would be if the bankers we had hurled.

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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Reborn Every Day (Haiku)

Reborn every day
My latest chance to right wrongs
~ A superhero
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Tears Are Emotion (Tanka)

Tears are emotion
Not defined by our gender
They are just human
There is no shame in crying
Unless you withhold the rain
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

I Was Dazed

I was dazed–confused
Quite unsure of my next move
Questioning what’s right
Intuition said one thing
But logic said another
Which one to follow
Has always been my downfall
Trapped among chaos
I ventured a leap of faith
Letting intuition guide
Instead of safety
I took the dare…
And I won
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Amazed (Haiku)

Amazed–dumbfounded

Why should I be so happy

Then again…why not

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Venom in Wretched Hearts Doth Flow (Sonnet)

Venom in wretched hearts doth flow,

Poisoning the mind, the body, the soul.

Sinking yellowed claws, they refuse to let go,

Dragging us down into blackened hole.

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Choosing to wallow in pity, our woeful state,

Winding path we refuse to veer.

Preferring to traipse the same abject fate,

As if it were something we held so dear.

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Nay–this is not how we were created,

With sorrow and fear to guide our way.

This truth could never be overstated,

If we change with the dawn of another day.

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Pessimism serves none, but the weakest of spirit,

But optimism doth breed success to those that will hear it.

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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~