by Paul C. Binotto for Lisa, © 2021 North Star, compass of the night, that brought me safely, by your light, across the bridge of anger, that spans the rushing danger, of the awful, sorrowful torrents, to alight, upon the shore of acceptance. I can sense, and see, in the morning air and light, Just … Continue reading “A Grief Endured”
by Paul C. Binotto © 2021 Listen neighbor and friend,though we may rarely agree.You see the forest, while I see the tree.I, a curve, you, a bend.You, the blue, me, the red. You, the heart, and I, the head.Let’s face it and admit.Without either part, a body is dead.Let’s race not after guilt, nor to … Continue reading The Appeal
By Paul C. Binotto © 2021 With a pick and a spade,They attempted to bury the truth.But all that they found in clayOf the hole that they made,Was that they’d uncovered more of the proof.
Paul C. Binotto © 2020 Sometimes it can feelLike your heart is the scale drumThat holds the weight of the world. And just when you think you’veGained an ounce of balance fromAn ounce of burden removed. Satan comes along at his pleasure.And puts his heavy-hand thumbOn it, just for good measure.
By Paul C. Binotto © 2020 Everyone must confront personal limitations. It's better to approach them, not as rails in a fence in which you are surrounded, erected to hold you back. But, as rungs in a ladder, to be surmounted.
by Paul C. Binotto © 2020 Children, though they be not our own.Are so much more than flesh and bone.But seeds, and soil, to be sown. Though you may never see them fully grown,Plant them, tend them, weed them, honeTheir tools to take along. To arm themselves, in prayer and psalm.In agitation, to find their … Continue reading Foster Parent
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
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 © 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