The Prodigal Sons

(A Pantoum)

The postman seldom knocks upon his door.

Alone, he drops no curse - nor crystal tears.

His sons, all flown away from ancient shores,

Leave him to live alone, his final years.



Alone, he drops no curse - nor crystal tears.

His sons, all to fulfil adulthood rites,

Leave him to live alone, his final years.

All judgement fled – they spend their restless nights.



His sons, all to fulfil adulthood rites,

Are seeking for the Many Coloured Land.

All judgement fled, they spend their restless nights.

Each squanders hard-saved cash with open hand;



Still searching for the Many Coloured Land.

His sons, all flown away from ancient shores.

Each squanders hard-saved cash with open hand.

The postman seldom knocks upon his door.



Book Titles used: Adulthood Rites- The Many-Coloured Land- All Judgement Fled - The Postman - Ancient Shores - Nor Crystal Tears -

Dear Leo,

A good handling of the challenge, with some moral philosophy thrown in, AND in a form I have never even thought of daring to attempt !

Methinks you are getting the hang of title challenges, excellent.

Love
Alan

PS Do you deliberately double space ? Or are you caught by the system and don't know a way out ?

Hi Alan - and thank you for opting to read, and comment on, 'The Prodigal Sons'.
The titles offered almost folded themselves into a Pantoum, with very little input from me.
Challenges meld well with a somewhat combative spirit - and it is hard to resist a puzzle of any sort.

Double Spacing? I just, 'takes what comes.'
What appears in the Preview seems to bear no relationship to what actually appears on screen; sometimes, the typeface even changes within a single post. The problem is that I came late to computers; (almost sixty eight when I had my first pc.) and am self taught. That way, both madness and vast incompetence lies!
Love, Leo

The Prodigal Sons
(A Pantoum)

The postman seldom knocks upon his door.
Alone, he drops no curse - nor crystal tears.
His sons, all flown away from ancient shores,
Leave him to live alone, his final years.

Alone, he drops no curse - nor crystal tears.
His sons, all to fulfil adulthood rites,
Leave him to live alone, his final years.
All judgement fled – they spend their restless nights.

His sons, all to fulfil adulthood rites,
Are seeking for the Many Coloured Land.
All judgement fled, they spend their restless nights.
Each squanders hard-saved cash with open hand;

Still searching for the Many Coloured Land.
His sons, all flown away from ancient shores.
Each squanders hard-saved cash with open hand.
The postman seldom knocks upon his door.

Leo, I've single-spaced it for you. Does this make it l "look more like poetry" to you ?

Hell, I'll be 68 next month, have been using computers for years, and doubt if I know much more than you, you are doing very well indeed !

Love
Alan

Hi Alan - that looks much more like a poem! I'll try to present my work in a more orthodox format in future - but Gremlins lurk around every corner:  gremlin3.png ( 155.57K ) Number of downloads: 0



Thank you so much for taking the time to re-set it for me,
Love, Leo

Dear sekhmet,
A masterful effort I'd say.
It seems to me, at least when I write, that putting words together is much easier than putting sentances together.
Yes, masterful, I'd say.
Cheers, Ron jgdittier

Hi Ron! Thanks for the kind words!
Yep! I find playing with a set of words can trigger a couple of verses without too much effort - it's rather like the warming-up exercises done by those hearty joggers and exercisers, before getting down to nitty-gritty of the real long haul. It is not often that inspiration arrives, fully formed, for an original poem - so these exercises keep the creative muscles ticking over.
Gheers - Leo

Dear Leo,
I do believe your creative muscles are ticking over!
I hope that was "cheers"!
Ron jgdittier