Sunset of the Olympians

Photograph by Jason Schack Photography©
Photograph by Jason Schack Photography©

Sunset of the Olympians

by Hugh A Tague

Poseidon’s waves lap the beach
Helios’s Sun prepares to sleep
Zeus gathers clouds for the sky
Hephaestus colors it with his fire
Aura adds a gentle breeze
Artemis put the animals to sleep
Apollo raises the moon for us
The day’s light turns to dusk.

Day turns to night then back into day
Never again is it exactly the same.

da Vinci’s Masterpiece


da Vinci’s Masterpiece (Constanza)

 by Hugh A Tague

She is da Vinci’s masterpiece.
A canvas brushed with oil paint
Her smile was all but constraint.

Artwork that speaks through centuries.
Comics and clowns performed for her
Leonardo made it occur.

Her sweet smile not all can see.
Bringing great joy to those that can
Sat in a chair made from rattan.

World known her face has come to be.
She lived five hundred years ago
And still her name we do not know.

This special piece by da Vinci.
A sweet young girl from Florentine
Immortal for eternity.

She Saves Mementoes


She Saves Mementoes 

by Hugh A Tague

I’m thinking about a girl
the sweetest that could be
she saves mementoes
that remind her of me.

I can picture her Angelface
when she looks at such things
with a smile and loving eyes
its me she’s remembering.

I know how she feels
because I do the same
like part of a package
that she wrote my name.

Such love and admiration
for each other’s kind soul
a love so respectful
like no other I have known.

A Thread In Time

1549553_636098659777096_181016959_n (1)

Mankind walks upon a very thin line
Each but a tiny thread in the great fabric of time
Twisting and turning, weaving as they go
Always moving, sometimes fast, other times slow.
The past and future are connected by the now
That is the only absolute that time will allow
Variables make up the rest of the space,
Affording individuals a unique freedom of pace.
Each of our threads’ tethers one day shall fray,
From time’s great continuum, they fall away,
Unable to stay in the present, the future will not come,
As we take life’s last breath, our thread is done.

True Love Found Them


True Love Found Them

by Hugh A Tague

There were two hearts pure and true
each seeing life from a different view,
Teaching love and respect to all,
for the other, each just happen to fall.

The two met early one night
under the stars and in the moon’s light.
Neither expected to find their life’s love
It must have been written, in the heavens above.

Her kiss took him to a place he had never been,
a place he had locked away deep down within.
His kiss also opened an all but forgotten door,
it led to a place in her heart to often ignored.

Their lips came together for the very first time,
their bodies heated up as their limbs Intertwined.
The world so vast, the universe without end,
on that warm summer night
True Love Found Them.

The Quantum Kiss



The Quantum Kiss

by Hugh A Tague

Our precious love transcends all time and space
With no dimensional bounds this love reigns
Exposed through universal elements
The combustible exhaust of a match
A residual image takes its form
Caught not in the present past nor future
Existing not in the real or unreal
A shadow etched in a place far away.

Interdimensionaly often missed
Eternally begotten quantum kiss.

Peeling Away Winter’s Mask


Peeling Away Winter’s Mask

By Hugh A Tague

The pure polar blanket of alabaster
that once lay at the feet of sleeping trees
no longer reflects the faint day’s light
from barren skies of grey.
Vanquished from the surface,
transformed into liquid tinder,
fueling the inferno of rebirth overhead.

The lake’s opaque tempered shell
falls victim to longer days of Spring.
Solar rays peel back Winter’s mask
from the great mirror’s face,
once again allowing Mother Nature’s image
to rebound into the heavens.

I am but a single bard, standing in awe
as the muse of the cosmos whispers
gently in my ear; inspiring my voice,
empowering my pen, painting my soul
with respect; a respect of this place
here and now, this beautiful place,
adrift among the stars.

Photograph  by Hugh A Tague
by Hugh A Tague

Jack Frost’s Storm

Jack Frost's Storm

Jack Frost’s Storm
by Hugh A Tague

A white birch bows to Jack’s command
laden with ice upon each limb and branch
all of Summer’s color, his magic blanched
silent, it’s burden held within a frozen trance

Nearby an old willow stands up straight
once flowing branches completely encased
Her limbs pulled to the ground from the weight
Summer sleeps under a canopy of crystal drapes.

The landscape has become unknown
locked in place with tools of ice and snow
a tranquil wonderland only he could sow
Jack Frost’s Storm, a spectacle to behold.


Here Comes The Pain


Art work by,

Here Comes The Pain

by Hugh A Tague

The sky darkens with clouds of deep despair
Streets glisten in crimson as the pain falls
Now it’s time to tread where others have fled
Through these streets of grief now painted in red.

An umbrella my only protection
Safely in the shadow of this shelter
Flooding negativity is insane
The streets now run red with sorrow and pain.

Sounds of suffering thunders from above
Freefalling from ominous dark black clouds
Can I weather another storm of pain
Am I strong enough to walk through this rain.

All that is good takes shelter from the storm
Nothing I can do to make it all stop
Searching the sky for a glimmer of hope
Just one ray of sunlight will help me cope.

Streets glisten in crimson as the pain falls
Sounds of suffering thunders from above
Now it’s time to tread where others have fled
Through these streets of grief now painted in red.

Springtime’s Glory

Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming, heads all empty and I don't care,
“Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming, heads all empty and I don’t care”~Robert Hunter

Springtime’s Glory

by Hugh A Tague

Winter’s snow falls victim to the sun’s rays
The once hard soil softens with spring’s touch
Sleeping tree’s roots awaken with great thirst
From their mighty branches newborn buds burst.

The sun’s light cuts through the still sparse treetops
Bright green sprouts brake through the earth’s fertile crust
A fast running creek feeds the thawing lake
Tiny birds search about for worms to take.

A spring breeze drifts across the forest floor
A hawk soars high on warm air fed currents
A carpet of clover fills a clearing
Along our path bluebells are appearing.

Broken tree limbs winter’s wrath remembered
The fall’s felled leaves are now spring’s top soil
Shades of brown take on green and golden hues
Migrating birds make the trip home to roost.

The sun’s light cuts through the still sparse treetops
The once hard soil softens with spring’s touch
Sleeping trees roots awaken with great thirst
From their mighty branches newborn buds burst.

“Twas Just The Irish In Me”

“Twas Just The Irish In Me”

by Hugh A Tague 


It started much like any other day.

Stretching, I let out a great yawn.

My hounds bolted outside to play

As a marmalade sun cracked the dawn.


It was an early brunch for me:

Bangers, eggs and a bit of bread.

Then a short walk next to the sea,

Stopping in town to make right my head.


I cheerfully shuffled into Paddy’s Pub.

The keep poured me a pint of Guinness.

A gracious few had gathered in the club:

Just Helen, Hugh and his brother Innis.


Then a voice unfamiliar to my ear

asked me why I was not wearing the green.

I said, “Anyone know who is this here?

St. Paddy’s police, or so it would seem.”


He knew right off he had misspoke.

To this stranger I had nothing to prove.

Still, an answer his question did evoke.

An Irish gentleman shouldn’t be rude.


Loosing my belt, I rose from my chair,

Dropping my trousers for all to see.

Helen’s face turned as red as her hair,

My knickers were a brilliant green.


I turned a bit, so Helen couldn’t see

Taking the stranger’s empty glass,

Brandishing my God- given Irish shillelagh,

Filling it with pee as green as grass.


I left little for the stranger’s mind to doubt.

A St. Paddy’s Day miracle he had just seen.

On his way out he bought me a stout.

Nothing is sweeter than a pint that is free.


Once he was gone, my friends had to ask.

I said, “It’s really quite simple you see:

Last week my legs held water like casks.

The pills from my Doctor make me pee green.”


I made them promise that day in the pub,

“My friends, this secret we must keep.

If the visitor ever comes back to the club

Say only:  ‘Twas Just The Irish In Me.’ ”


HAIKU, English 3-5-3

by Hugh A Tague, 俳句ヒュー ©

Japanese art wallpaper 01 2560x1600 - Copy

laden boughs
Winter’s white dress coat



ramo Laden
Abito bianco mantello invernale

Laden branch
White dress coat winter

Laden branche
Robe blanche manteau d’hiver

Laden branch
White dress winter coat

A Ladder of life



A Ladder of life

by Hugh A Tague

All that you are
and all that you aren’t.

Shadows of those
who came before you
destiny’s written
yet remain unknown.

A double helix tablet
etched in space
with moon dust
seasoned in starlight.

Each strand yours
and yours alone
a most exclusive gift
from infinite expanse.

A ladder of fate.
A ladder of life.

They Will Dance



They Will Dance

~ Hugh A Tague
They will dance in the day’s light
they will dance in public or alone
they will dance in their bed at night
they will dance in their house or a home.

they will dance

They will dance to a tune no one can hear
they will dance for they have no voice
they will dance without hope or fear
they will dance because they have no choice.
they will dance,  they will dance
One day their agonizing dance will cease
no longer will they move their hands and feet
that look in their eyes we shall never again see
until that day when they are finally set free…
they will dance.   they will dance,
they will dance.

Haunted by Huntington’s


Haunted by Huntington’s
by Hugh A Tague

From this chair of questions
that have no answers
I look out the window
at a world I no longer know
once a vehicle
to enjoy life’s bounty
a prison for my mind
is now my body’s role.

The monster that attacks me today
for a lifetime slept quietly inside.

It fears nothing
there is no known cure.

What enabled it’s genesis of destruction?
What awoke this unforgiving beast?

How can something so evil
seek and achieve asylum
inside a pure and precious life
yet unborn?

The killer hid inside my father
he unknowingly passed it
to my brother and me
It took them to another place
and now for me
there they wait.

My pain is one of emptiness
from a life that was once so full.

Even surrounded by loved ones
still there is a loneliness
a loneliness
that no one
should ever have to bare.

The tears that fill my eyes
are not for me
but for my children’s lives
and that which is unseen.

My insides twisted with a guilt
few could understand
that which consumes me now
I hope never finds them.

A Promise Made

A Promise Made
by Hugh A Tague ©
Late Winter’s dusk set in shades of magenta and tangerine.
The Sun’s promise to the frozen soil, and sleeping trees
That Spring’s thaw will soon arrive, warming the land and seas.
Mighty trees’ boughs and limbs caressed by a warm breeze
As sunshine feeds their new and supple leaves of green.


Cabin Fever

Bars of Ice

Cabin Fever

by Hugh A Tague

The day’s radiant sunshine gives them life
a clear cloudless blue sky grants full access
white crystals begins to glisten then flow
thawing them from the rooftop’s stock of snow.

Droplets of water ride down the steep pitch
slowing as each falls over the ice edge
racing toward the cold snow covered ground
these lucid travelers polar air now surround.

Gravity draws their essence to the earth
cold tempered their form is compromised
riding the surface of those that came before
and still they are pulled toward the forest floor.

Winter hands down its sentence onto me
confined by the warmth inside my home
cabin fever is driving me insane
bars of ice now my prison’s window pane.

Droplets of water ride down the steep pitch
the day’s radiant sunshine gives them life
racing toward the cold snow covered ground
these lucid travelers polar air now surround.