by Paul C. Binotto © 2020 Lovingly dedicated to my foster son, Kadan. Every day is an adventure with a four-year-old – I love his amazing imagination! It’s contagious; and it thaws and rekindles my own imagination and refills me with the wonderment of a fresh new world; one for me that has long ago … Continue reading Discovering the Child in Father
One and a half days to prepare. User-manual not included. cha·os /ˈkāˌäs/nounnoun: chaos; plural noun: chaosescomplete disorder and confusion."snow caused chaos in the region "synonyms:disorder, disarray, disorganization, confusion, mayhem, bedlam, pandemonium, madness, havoc, turmoil, tumult, commotion, disruption, upheaval, furor, frenzy, uproar, hue and cry, babel, hurly-burly; Morea maelstrom, a muddle, a mess, a shambles, a … Continue reading Foster Tale
Poem of thoughts and impressions on learning about the fire of Notre Dame de Paris on the day it nearly burned to the ground.
By Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Joy radiates from just beyond, Yet, just beyond my grasp. Continue Reading...
By Paul C. Binotto © 2019 True beauty, is truth, bestowed, And found in the gain of loss... Continue Reading...
Edited by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 After seeing most of the United States, I shipped out for overseas, landing in Scotland, of which we were trucked down to Southampton, England, and entered our barracks near a British Camp. We spent three months there before shipping out – crossing the English Channel in pontoon boats, … Continue reading Peter Binotto Sr. – WWII Memoir -In His Own Words
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 A breast, a face, a lap, warm skin, caress and embrace me,Safely to the world from which I sprung to life and clung.Gravity was not enough to keep me grounded there for very long.But, the heart, the calm, the sweet smile, and gazing eye - stars,Set in Heaven, to … Continue reading Mom
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019: (photo courtesy Lisa Binotto) A perfect place for starters,Is fishing in the shallows close at hand;Along the shores in holy waters;Before putting out into the deep, for man.
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Christo-Caucasian-Masculinity, To all three, I have an intimate affinity. If this makes me your worst enemy, May you find in God's love, the remedy, To the missed occasion to find the friend in me.
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Grain is gold against autumn’s withering dust To be gathered up, carted, and stored. And, drawn down for my winter’s crust, Till all remains are crumbs upon the kitchen floor. While new-seed still sleeps within its sack, And the tools on racks, still burnish rusty stain, The blossoms … Continue reading Crumbs Upon the Kitchen Floor
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Then it was easier, wasn't it, but...With eyes so blind,And wide-open mind,And, heart slammed tightly shut,To the truth. It wasn't my truth.It would take a greater sleuth,Than ever I was, just to find it.To pull back the cover-up, unwind it.Then it was easier, wasn't it, but...Then I couldn't see, … Continue reading Then, It Wasn’t, But
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Oh, sweet mother pelican, Do set your wet red kiss As seal upon daughter Éireann’s Thirsting waxen lips. That she may taste from you, what is Purest mother’s unmolest’d “Yes”. Because you had no other milk to give, Crimson stains your tender breast To serve yourself to … Continue reading Piercings
by Paul C. Binotto © 2020 Dear Conscience, under-cover cop, To steer my course, or stop It in its tracks. Double-me back, On proper path when self Is, or is, about to attack. Form me well, share your wealth. Catch me falling, in your stealth. Fill me full of what I lack. And, bind me … Continue reading Under-cover Cop
by Paul C. Binotto © 2020 Truth, whether mouthed in jest by a gibbering babe at play, or when in momentary clarity, all incoherence is betrayed; falls softly as a feather, yet sounds loudest.
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Silver spoon, silver mote, One chokes the eye, the other, throat. Which the sheep, which the goat? Which the warning, prophets wrote? Retire for the night, Rise, re-treaded for the day. Walk in the light, Water and clay. The very stones wail out Against the silence cast in gold. … Continue reading Silver Spoon, Silver mote
by Paul C. Binotto ©2019 Right or wrong, cultural relativists get to choose their friends and their relatives.
Getting that first piece published is a milestone all writers must endure when starting out. The wait can be excruciating. Continue reading to see if you agree with what it means to me to get published; can you relate?
I cannot say where it went, Borrowed more, the less I lent. Oh, how the day was thus far spent.
Your heart's beating faster, your chest's all a swell. Is this all that you're after? Fare-thee-well.