Looking Back

Looking back over rounded shoulders,

At friends who’ve long passed;

He can see them like yesterday,

So much like him today.

“Maybe I don’t want to go forward alone”, he thought,

His blanket of bronze and gold

Offering little warmth to his heart grown cold.

His parched lips quiver under mossy beard,

Longing for a sip of cool mountain water.

What lies ahead scares him

Standing at rivers edge.

In his youth no apprehension would he have shown,

His fearlessness bringing out the best in him,

But no longer is he fearless, no longer is he emulous.

Instead he is resigned to spend his life’s remainder…

Waving goodbye to what was

And what might have been.

 .

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

(Words at the Weekend – 17-18 August 2013 prompts)

http://boipoet.wordpress.com/2013/08/17/words-at-the-weekend-17-18-august-2013/

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Drinking Dulls The Pain

Drinking dulls the pain,

Feeding the same worn excuse,

Permitting abuse,

Damaging family and friends,

Leaving no external scars.

Yet wounds just as real

Bleed, becoming infected,

Contagious with time,

Perpetuating sickness

For generations to come.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Through The Window Of Time

An old fading brownstone,

For many a decade it has not been alone.

~~

If only we could see what it’s eyes must have seen,

Maybe then we would know where we’re going and where we’ve been.

~~

The cobblestone streets that lead past it’s front door,

Crumbled from the weather and travelers burdens I’m sure.

~~

It’s residents present and long ago past,

Have seen what this world has offered to the last.

~

The carriage, the train, the automobile,

All graced this place whether wood, iron or steel.

~~

From street lights of gas or electric lights glow,

They lit up the sights of another nights show.

~~

So great a loss of life fighting wars on two fronts,

A choice to drop the bomb would end hostilities at once.

~~

Parades and floats to the sailors joyful kiss,

Soldiers home from war we gratefully would not miss.

~~

Then a plea to the cops into Korea we did go,

But our hands were handcuffed by the reluctance we did show,

~~

A stalemate was called that we live under till this day,

Neither a win nor a loss could be granted either way.

~~

A call for equality from the King did he shout,

With hoods and with nooses the cowards tried to drive them out.

~~

Watching as a President is taken before his time,

Paying respects in a long and somber funeral procession line.

~~

The brownstone’s broad eyes did shed tortured tears,

As a people came to terms with an unsure nations fears.

~~

Ducking behind window boxes from the riots we did hide,

From tear gas and protesters we kept our children safe inside.

~~

Then there’s the hell of this little place Vietnam,

Over 58.000 lost never to return home.

~~

To this day we don’t know what it all was all for,

A chapter we’d prefer to lock behind a locked door.

~~

Then cries for peace and love in song did they roar,

Long hair, love beads and bell bottoms they adorned.

~~

Three days of love from a Woodstock would live on,

Though Jerry Garcia, Janis and Jimmy are now gone.

~~

A gas crisis, Beirut and the hostages in Iran,

Oil, our Marines and our citizens held in foreign lands.

~~

Then along came the Gipper to rescue us from us,

Bringing our people back without much muss or much fuss.

~~

The economy turned around while trickle-down became law,

Taking twenty plus years to find out there was a flaw.

~~

In 2001 we were brutally attacked,

By suicide bombers that should have been tracked.

~~

Our World Trade and Pentagon, the heroes in a Pennsylvania field,

So many had died, so many have been killed.

~~

In retribution and revenge we invaded Iraq,

To topple Saddam and push the Revolutionary Guard back.

~~

Into Afghanistan we marched as others had before,

With an uneasy partner in Islamabad and Lahore.

~~

An attempt to democratize third-world tribes,

Costing our mothers their sons and daughters sacred lives.

~~

Osama Bin Laden is dead at the hands of the Seals,

One more terrorist down knocked back on his heals.

~~

All to what end I don’t think anybody truly knows,

We’ll wait for history to say, to see how it goes.

~~

Our economies in turmoil, our politics a disaster,

Compromise and diplomacy no longer can they master.

~~

Fiscal cliffs and debt ceilings in our sights looming large,

It’s hard to tell if anyone in D. C. is in charge.

~~

Where we go from here is anyone’s guess,

Raise a glass and make a toast and hope for the best.

~~

Our past world glories seem far and away,

As we long for that time to be ushered in today.

~~

Our yesteryear’s are pocked with our failures and successes,

Hoping cooler heads prevail and our virtues to protect us .

~

O’ the good and bad this old brownstone must have seen,

The lessons taught through history, I’m hoping we did glean.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Dandelion Bends – A Haiku

Image Credit: wildmanstevebrill.com

Image Credit: wildmanstevebrill.com

Dandelion bends

Submitting to the winds will

Perennial life

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Monsters And Demons – A Tanka

Monsters and demons

Hide inside each one of us

Life of denial

Scared to face our deepest selves

Afraid of what we might see

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Dark Closet

Its a dark closet,

Door shut,

Bolt fixed,

Lock turned.

Reaching above the door frame,

Skeleton key missing.

Clanging of metal tells the tale.

You’ve locked yourself inside,

Stolen the key.

Don’t you want rescue,

To be saved,

Freed from this dungeon?

In an instant

Lights go out.

No sign of life beneath locked door.

All is quite,

Retreating to the recesses of your mind.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Cloudless Sky – A Shadorma

Cloudless sky,

Granite peaks part blue

Bright canvas.

This painting,

Brushed from an artists palette,

A true masterpiece.

~

Perfection,

Born of natures hand

Is flawless.

To compare

With the mortal works of man

Would be an insult.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Author’s Note: The Shadorma is a poetic form consisting of a six-line stanza (or sestet). The form is alleged to have originated in Spain. Each stanza has a syllable count of three syllables in the first line, five syllables in the second line, three syllables in the third and fourth lines, seven syllables in the fifth line, and five syllables in the sixth line (3/5/3/3/7/5) for a total of 26 syllables. A poem may consist of one stanza, or an unlimited number of stanzas (a series of shadormas).  The information above was from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadorma.

Can You Hear The Cries – A Tanka

Can you hear the cries

Echoing out in the night

Hunger their captor

Resigned to a third world

Right hear in our own backyard

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

You

When writing of you

Perplexed am I to the form.

No mold can contain you.

So much of life is a Parody,

Laughing at your ingrained silliness,

The mischievousness of your smile,

Twinkling eyes with a smoldering fire.

Haiku’s genteel nature is far too small,

Sister Tanka tries to express,

But her attention is much too short.

Perhaps an Ode would suffice

For flattery is your just due,

Ensued by inevitable embarrassment.

I could venture to sum your essence

Through the singularity of an Acrostic

Though this would scarcely scratch the surface.

Perhaps Triolet would be more fitting,

For none too often can I express the depth of my love;

Repetition surely would serve as reminder.

Even with all these

None can capture your unrestrained spirit,

The flow of you through space and time.

I will not try to confine you, that would be unfair.

Instead I will let you spread your wings

Writing your own verse

In the form of…

Free.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~