by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 What a ghastly, ghastly thing,... Continue Reading...
By Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Joy radiates from just beyond, Yet, just beyond my grasp. Continue Reading...
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Papa, tell me why Do you think,The flowers drink, Not from their mouths, But, from their feet?And, how does a roseSmell so good, thoughIt hasn't a nose?Papa, how, do you think?Tell me all that you know.And, Papa, tell me please,Why they're called leavesWhen they never G0 anywhere ever;Why aren't … Continue reading Flowers and Days
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 Copyright, Got it right,Got a right,to write.I've got it sealed-up tight.Alt 0169, no mere alternate trite.So, if you're looking for a fight,Remember, "might makes right", and the like...Alt 0169, preemptive, mighty missile strike.Such a lovely, lovely sight; what's not to like?Let my ©, ©, be your carbon-copy guiding light, … Continue reading Alt 0169
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Front Porches,Knee-walled, castle-fortress;Sentry station, marvelous appended creation,For taking stock of self and nation.Slowly and with little pomp, a flag-hand rises above the brow, on boney pole, and, Flaps a wind waving salute.
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 Courtesy Google Maps Boston Harbor, plump old daughter of the Revolution, exhaustedBut content from the rigors of a tightly bobby-pinned, puritanical day,Sits stuffed in her bath. Her fleshy legs and heels propped, straddling the edges of the tub. Buoyant breasts and hips, gently bobbing above the water's surface,She silently contemplates, … Continue reading Redeye Over Boston
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Image may be copyright protected - copyright not held by Fostertales There has always been much tyranny seen in the faces of Confederate Statues found most prevalently in the American South; most especially over the last few years has there been calls for their removal. In some cases, they … Continue reading Looking at Statues From Both Sides
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 (Christophe Ena/Associated Press) Our Lady, Oh, Holy Name, Standing firm, with heart aflame, Beneath the Cross, did you remain. Oh, Rock of Ages, lifted high above the Seine, Pierced and broken, piercing spire. What Our Lord would require, Simeon, of the hour, did foretell, “A sword will pierce your … Continue reading Notre Dame