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

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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.


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.

by Haiku Hugh 俳句ヒュー

Hiroshige, Shrines in Snowy Mountains, by Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川 広重
Hiroshige, Shrines in Snowy Mountains, by Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川 広重


Ice cold winter wind
Reign of frost unforgiving
Summer hides from snow

by 俳句ヒュー
(Haiku Hugh)

Art work;
Hiroshige, Shrines in Snowy Mountains
by Utagawa Hiroshige 歌川 広重

Winter’s Barren Beach

Winter’s Barren Beach

by Hugh A Tague


Winter has come again
and nothing is quite the same
the sun has all but gone
and the skies are always gray.

Jack Frost’s snow
has enveloped the barren beach
his ferocious wind
whipped up the stormy sea.

Still it’s really quite beautiful
in its own way
each of nature’s seasons
must be given its own day.

Soon the Summer’s sun
shall warm the shore again
the beach no longer barren
it shall fill with family and friends.

Photograph by  Dave Richartz Photography
Photograph by
Dave Richartz Photography

Father Mandela

Father Mandela
by Hugh A Tague

Shackled and lead to a cell,
freedom revoked by hatred
and fear.

Nearly three decades of complete darkness,
then into the peoples light
he appeared.

His dream of equality unchanged,
freedom’s resolve

Retribution for sins against him
were forever

Confessor of the dark and the light,
our voice of freedom,
endowing our country with sight.

He no longer walks by our side.
Never shall we forget
this man’s stride.

Father to his countryman,
teaching his children
patience and peace.

His wisdom and sacrifice
forever lives in the hearts
of all who are free.

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Cyrano’s Insidious Deceit

Cyrano’s Insidious Deceit

by Hugh A Tague

His rapière merely an instrument,
one he need only play for a fool.
His swaggering panache,
few men, and less a warrior
could ever hope to own.

Wielding a pride-piercing foil of intellect.
Divesting his adversary of dignity,
shredding their vocabulary,
depriving them of all they once
thought themselves to be.

Lunging forward, Cyrano threads his foe,
releasing their soul’s bonds, leaving just
a mound of quivering flesh.
Short of a poetry-laced eulogy,
Cyrano’s passé concerto;
Le Rapière de Combat et fini.

Façade cloaked, Cyrano cast out his heart
painting a mirage with his pallet of passion.
Oblivious to the disfigured poet, the enchanted
Roxane sees only her paramour.
She sees only Christian.

Mortality concluded about the battlefield;
a cadet’s body, and the truth, forever lay cold.
Cyrano maintained le charade.
Roxane’s image inamorato intact,
she laments to unconsciousness.

15 years her confidant, Cyrano’s end in sight;
his final battle facing shadows.
The spectres, this time victorious.
Roxane found the truth as he drew his last breath;
Her heart now shattered twofold.

Insidious deceit, or honour among friends?
Lives self-sabotaged; Love and affection forever forfeit.
True love’s only antagonist: The Truth.

Savinien_de_Cyrano_de_Bergerac (1)

I Love being in Love With You


I Love being in Love With You

by Hugh A Tague

As I get ready
to drift off to sleep,
I think of the words
you just said to me.

“You loved being in love with me“
that’s what you said;
those words and feelings
still swirling in my head.

Like a flower
that blooms just for me,
your words of love
are as sweet as can be.

I know how wonderful
this feels for you.
“I love being in love with you too.”

My Everything

My Everything

by Hugh A Tague

When I thought that my life might not be worth living;
You gave me hope.
When I thought that I had forgotten who I was;
You reminded me.
When I thought that I would never know true love’s kiss;
You kissed me.
When I thought that I would never know passion’s sweet touch;
You touched me.
When I thought true love did not exist;
You gave me your heart.
When I thought that I had nothing;
You became my everything.

My Everything

Trespass of the Ice Fairies

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Who boldly trespass in the dark of night,
leaving only etchings for me to see?
Eluding detection, hidden from sight,
truly clever intruders they must be.
Gravity to them simply does not apply,
frolicking about on my sideways pane.
Is it magic? Or perhaps they can fly?
Ah yes! Flight is the secret of their reign.
Visions of whimsy, my mind’s eye beholds.
Dancing and skating upon my window’s ice.
Seemingly boundless, thriving in the cold;
who’s impressions vanish with the new day’s light.
As I sleep, they flutter about my home.
I take solace, in that I’m not all alone.
                                                  ~Hugh A Tague

Freed By My Confession


Freed By My Confession
by Hugh A Tague

Each deep dark secret
haunts me, body and mind.
So complete is its grip
death is a welcome cure.

Dissident of humanity
riddled with man’s sin,
each binding me more
enhancing my madness.

My surroundings stark,
void of all expression.
My repressed thoughts
match my prison perfectly.

A façade of ignorance
runs rampant inside me.
Compressing the guilt
compounding my disability.

Rising to the surface
a bubbling brew of evil.
It’s pending release,
I can curtail no more.

Then it happens!
My most sacred digressions
articulated for others to digest,
degrading my personal mask.

As the pressure subsides,
pure space, or grace is created.
Light penetrates the bowels
of my once darkened soul.

From the light comes a warmth
filling a cold emptiness.
An inner peace I had not known
freedom I begrudged myself.

My bindings detached I am
carried on wings of forgiveness,
freed from my personal prison.
Freed By My Confession.

Ode to the wind

Tamara de Lempicka

Ode to the wind 

 by Hugh A Tague

My Love,

Our bodies dance together,
setting the universe aglow.
Kissing under the stars
sipping a fine merlot.

Your free loving spirit
feeds my hungry soul.
Because of your kindness,
as a man I have grown.

Love of my life,
my choice, this I know.
Once, you chose me,
no longer was I alone.

Still the wind is wild,
a force I can‘t control.
I love you far too much,
not to let you go.

If I live a thousand years
my memory won’t forgo,
throwing my heart to the wind
allowing my love to flow.

Forever yours my darling.

Father Time’s Great Clock

Father Time’s Great Clock

Stars high in the clear night sky twinkling bright,

the ground covered with a new blanket of white.

The air is still, not so much as a breeze

soon winds of change shall blow through the trees.


Tonight is the beginning of a brand-new year,

Mankind looks back, at all they held dear.

Celebrating the special event with great mirth,

just another trip around the sun, for Mother Earth.


The Moon’s light gently kissed the fresh powder coat

making the carpet of snow glisten with new hope.

Winter’s darkness now battles with the Day’s light,

soon Spring’s Sun shall win the age old fight.


Tonight is but a tick of Father Time’s great clock

reminding us, that for no one can time stop.

To all that will ring in this promising new year,

I wish you health, peace, wealth, and cheer.


© 1/1/2014 Hugh Tague

Art work by; Alex Stone,

Art work by; alexstoneart, Alex Stone

Mother Nighttime

Mother Night by PAtScHWOrK
Mother Night by PAtScHWOrK
Mother Nighttime 
by Hugh A Tague

Mother of darkness and all that is unseen.
The full moon’s bright light is all her glory.
Daytime’s warmth surrenders to her cool shade,
releasing her nighttime into the day.

Her sorrow falls to moonless pitch darkness.
Her silent cloak envelopes everything.
Nighttime’s mystery belongs to her,
to not another can darkness refer.

Nocturnal creatures lurk in her shadow.
Dense evenings clouds block the heaven’s light.
Nighttime’s high seas reign black from shore to shore,
until morning’s first light, the darkness adorns.

Possessing all that is considered nighttime.
The moon’s beams and all that they shone upon,
whose reflections in hues of blue and gray.
A star’s light that twinkles from far away.

Mother of darkness and all that is unseen.
Dense evenings clouds block the heaven’s light.
Daytime’s warmth surrenders to her cool shade,
releasing her nighttime into the day.


#poetry #art #HughATague #freerhymequatrain

Romeo and Juliet

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Romeo and Juliet
by Hugh A Tague

Unrest fills the cobblestone of Verona
Feuding nobles Capulet and Montague
The Prince decrees peace or death by his corona
A punishment that assured none shall argue.

Juliet’s young hand promised to Paris
Romeo’s heart rejected by Rosaline
The masquerade feast hid not Juliet’s Clarisse
Instantly Romeo knew for her heart he will pine.

To each other their names still unknown
That very night their lips lovingly met
This powerful new love most will not condone
For he is a Montague and she a Capulet.

From the garden wall Romeo professed his love
Unable to leave that night without doing so
Juliet accepted his heart from yonder window above
despite their families’ distaine they soon shall know.

Thinking an age-old feud may come to an end
Friar Lawrence secretly wed the two
That night together the lovers did spend
Juliet’s nurse with a ladder gave them a honeymoon.

Mercutio and Tybalt the next day died by the sword
Romeo was banished for the part he played
Having killed their kinsman this Juliet must ignore
Her love for her husband she could not betray.

Destined to marry Paris her father still in the dark
Juliet and Friar Lawrence hatch an elaborate plan
Romeo knows nothing as Friar John fails to embark
A life without Juliet, Romeo could not stand.

Romeo killed himself but first took Paris out
Juliet woke and fall on upon a dagger brave
The Capulets and the Montagues their pain devout
To this day statues of gold stand upon the grave

The Eyes Of Hope

The Eyes Of Hope

(English Sonnet)
by Hugh A Tague

My eyes look upon the land of plenty.
From this shelter of canvas and timber.
And still our stomachs are all but empty.
Feelings of happiness are hard kindred .
My breast near empty of life giving food.
I take what I can, that came from the field.
Little comfort for the youngest of my brood.
Mother Nature’s wrath has lessened the yield.
For my children, what future lies ahead?
Will they prosper in the land of the free?
Will I be there? or will I be dead?
A few of the thoughts that keep haunting me.
Thankful that I get to see the sun rise,
And the love and hope in my children’s eyes.

Dorothea Lange’s “Migrant Mother”

What to Say


What to Say
by Hugh A Tague

What to say
about one whose words
have touched so many,
words not just read
and spoke out loud,
but are felt
by all they fall upon.
Words that inspired so many
to read, to write
and to see.

What to say
about one who has
not just bared witness,
but engaged in life
with a limitless vigor
few will ever know,
but for a read of our Lady Maya.

What to say
about one’s whose sight
has touched minds of
school-aged children,
as well as the minds of
men and women;
who shoulder
the weight of the world.

Four score and six years;
five of those fell silent,
for none knew better
the power of words
than she.

Perhaps all the words
that could be spoke,
or wrote,
about this great poetess
have been just that.
For even a man of words
such as myself,
I can think of but two….
Thank You.

Summer’s Bounty


Summer’s Bounty
by  Hugh A Tague

The mid summer’s sun
enveloped the rich canopy
feeding leaves of green
held high atop the mightiest of trees
as their bows cast a gracious shade.

Sumac and Mountain Laurel
edge the river’s bank
Honeysuckle’s alluring scent
captivates, while Baby’s Breath
whispered of the warm summer’s breeze.

Fern completely unfurled
blanket the forest floor
cloaked amidst their lush display
fairies evade detection
despite the most cautious of trespass.

Tiger Lilies and Queen Ann’s Lace
ascend above a bed of
Buttercup and Daisy
just beyond in a field
reaching for the horizon
stands the seasons first harvest of hay.

Nature’s abundant wealth
seized by the senses
captured from every view
on this most amazing
mid summer day.

© Hugh A Tague 7/21/14

#poetry #hughatague #nature

America Deceived


America Deceived
by  Hugh A Tague

The American dream was once so clear
equality and freedom was the call.
“We The People” see through rose colored glasses,
while the wealthy cover their greedy asses.

False prophets preach to the mindless minions,
cloaked within a facade of righteousness.
With funds made from the sweat of the deceived
they reign supreme from the highest of seats.

Forty acres and a mule once proclaimed,
still we’re played for fools by those we elect.
Hungry and homeless children go to sleep,
both parents work still they can’t make ends meet.

Just poverty and despair trickle down,
our working class poor bearing the brunt.
Their children in service now blindly stand,
for corporate profit they die in foreign lands.

Forty acres and a mule once proclaimed,
false prophets preach to the mindless minions.
“We The People” see through rose colored glasses,
while the wealthy cover their greedy asses.

Time With My Girl

by  Hugh A Tague

Your eyes twinkle with a love just for me
My skin crawls with my souls deep desire
A love so pure that no one else can see
Passion so great, my heart burns like fire.

Our bodies fit together in every way
Your angel face just barely touching mine
As if molded from the same piece of clay
I forget all else losing track time.

Your soft and tender skin I do so miss
Oh how your gentle touch drives me insane
Your perfect lips and a sweet loving kiss
Our love is special and can’t be explained.

When together all is right in the world.
Nothing is better than time with my girl.


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With Heads Bowed


With Heads Bowed
by Hugh A Tague

Late morning sun shines bright
through the limbs of leafless trees.
Halloween pumpkins just a month old,
on my porch, now covered with snow.

Winter’s clear cold skies came early,
Fall’s first snow, more than a coating.
Frozen air blanketed the land by night,
the lake’s top forms a layer of skim ice.

A Cornucopia overflows with Nature’s bounty,
the aroma of fresh herbs permeate my home.
Friends and family come from near and far,
traversing great distance, by plane and car.

A fire burns in my family’s brick hearth,
the great bird roasts throughout the day.
Loved ones catch up, sipping glasses of cheer;
this place in time, I shall forever hold dear.

The main table fills with food, piping hot;
the kitchens wealth prepared with love.
Smiles surround the festive dining hall,
with heads bowed, we gave thanks for it all.