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
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 What a ghastly, ghastly thing, That a child so young, must drink The cup; feel the sting. Lost innocence comes swift, or by degree. What awful nursery rhymes We now sing; what memes. What soulful freedom's Bell that drums; the terrible truth resounds.
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 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 Little man, what keeps you there?The bed-rail set so low, that you can clear,But, love of me, and perhaps, a little fear,Of what you'll find, or how to steer?Little boy, loved so dear.All quiet; only sleep's soft breath, I hear.If low set rails could keep you near,Forever in my … Continue reading Kadan
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 © 2012 My daughter came to me when she was eighteen. I missed her coos, her cries, her wiggles. Her bows, pig tails, her “whys?”, her pouts, and giggles. All that happened in between then and eighteen. Only four months, maybe six, before she’d leave, On her own, still so … Continue reading Maureen
by Paul C. Binotto © 2019 Children’s chortlings in the play-ground Are carried on wind-wings into my open window. Oh, beautiful, innocent, purity of sound. About the garden, symphonic seeds of melody and beat and chords are sown; In wild cacophony thrown. An orchestra’s tuning, Prelude to Boccherini, or Bach, or Mozart; Morning preening of … Continue reading Waylaid in Rome