At Midnight’s Stroke (Sonnet)

At midnight’s stroke amongst confetti and champagne

Give thought to those so far from home.

Too many are they in lands we cannot name,

Worn and lonely; resolved to wallow alone.


With joy–a smile and alcohols bright cheer

Our horns like trumpets wail.

Forgetting those who could not be here

Our memories so short they do fail.


Without intention this ailment takes hold

As time our sensitivities does dull.

Our patience and prayers grow tired and old

Succumbing to complacencies lull.


Remember those who sacrifice without batting an eye,

Ensuring the freedoms the rest of us have, as our fireworks light up the sky.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


AUTHOR’S NOTE: I like to post reminders from time-to-time to give thought to our brave service men and women serving around the world.  These are as much a reminder for me as I hope they are for others who may read this.  Next time you see a member of the armed forces, thank them for their service, this really does mean a great deal to them.

Another Year

Another year, add one more to the count.

Another tick mark on the chalkboard.

Another chance to get it right.

Another promise to myself to change.

Another negative thing I will give up.

Another positive thing I will nurture.

Another countdown to another list.

Another resolution that I didn’t complete.

Another year of self-flagellation for failures.


And for what,

So we can feel bad about ourselves,

So we can blame ourselves for our misgivings,

So we can complain of being wronged,

So we can blame others for our failures,

So we can make another list,

So we can fill it with resolutions,

So we can obsess about the negative,

So we can minimize the positive,

So we can set ourselves up to achieve more of the same.

Why do we not love who we are,

Work on changing the things we can change

Take responsibility for ourselves without pressure or demand

Strive to realize our dreams every day

Instead of tormenting ourselves

–Every first of January.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Does She Dream–She Dreams No More (Sonnet)

Does she dream–she dreams no more,

Though mother grieves, her spirits flown.

Tears are shed in torrents, stain upon the floor,

In her heart of hearts she has most surely known.


Knowledge diminishes not a mother’s sorrow,

Science cold, offers no sympathetic relief.

Knowing there will be no more tomorrows,

Does little to quench her wrenching grief.


Its time she needs to weep and mourn,

A daughter lost to procedure routine.

To unite and mend a family torn,

By results unexpected, gross and obscene.


Her passing a reminder of the commonplace, still serious,

And the pain no less painful turns a family delirious.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


A New Day, A New Light Dawns

A new day, a new light dawns,

No more do the darkest clouds mask my life,

Shrouding me in gloom so marshland thick.

Crying out to be saved ushered no hand,

Leaving me to crawl, bloodied and battered from my despicable pit.

No hope nor blame was there outside of self–

Though not for lack of trying.

How easy it was to shine blame on another,

Justifying this rancid condition through mirrored fault.

Oh how misplaced and misguided were my intentions!

I need look no further than my reflection to find the culprit,

The thief that steals away at the slightest hint of uplifted spirit.

For now he has been banished back to his cell,

‘Til next his jailer be tricked into releasing him.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Consciously Adrift

Consciously adrift in melancholia today

A strange feeling of sorts, almost out-of-body.

Praying this awareness isn’t here to stay,

It has been some time since I have felt this oddly.


Perhaps its the conclusion of a season so merry

Punctuating my customary schedule of labor,

Or the calming of life that for a time was so hurried

Returning to the normalcy of my common behavior.


More like the drying of the druggy or drunkard,

The heart becomes heavy with worry and sadness.

These feelings have since grown increasingly absurd,

Leading me down this pathway toward madness.


Pray tell–to what end does this folly intend,

In driving my soul to the brink of destruction?

Try as I might to bandage and mend

And pull myself out of this pit of compunction.


On knees that are bent in prayer for reprieve

All one can hope for is its swiftness to pass.

Lifting up spirits and hasten sorrows to leave

Like sand as it trickles through narrow of the hourglass.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Is Being “Father” Enough

Is being “Father” enough?

Looking into the face of the son, I’m not sure who I see;

Some of me, some of his mother,

But these are just physical traits.

He has lived a life far different from my own,

Seen and done things that I have never seen or done

Lived the horrors of war,

Witnessed the worst of mankind,

Traveled through the world with a bullseye on his back.

How could this not demand change,

A change that I will never understand?

Me…I’ve sat in my easy chair;

Warm, dry, safe,

Worrying for his safety,

Praying for him to come home.

I read the ticker at the bottom of the screen

Announcing without emotion those that would not return;

Thankful for the call that never came.

Is being “Father” enough?

I cannot alter what was,

Cannot erase what he has seen,

Cannot live his life.

We seem to have less in common these days,

Though I am certain that this is more my problem than his.

Is being “Father” enough?

I suppose that it will have to be.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


How Glorious The Year As It Comes To An End (Pantoum)

How glorious the year as it comes to an end,

Thankful for all that I have received,

Complaints I have few, no regrets do I send,

Dismissing what should never be grieved.


Thankful for all that I have received,

A fool would I be to complain,

Dismissing what should never be grieved,

Cherishing that which remains.


A fool would I be to complain,

Perceived as nothing but a whiner,

Cherishing that which remains,

Leaving only the good which is finer.


Perceived as nothing but a whiner,

Is something which should never be attained,

Leaving only the good which is finer,

To those that will follow unconstrained.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~



Description taken from :

The pantoum consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB in which the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third lines in the succeeding quatrain; each quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD. The first line of the series recurs as the last line of the closing quatrain, and third line of the poem recurs as the second line of the closing quatrain, rhyming ZAZA.

The design is simple:

Line 1

Line 2

Line 3

Line 4


Line 5 (repeat of line 2)

Line 6

Line 7 (repeat of line 4)

Line 8

Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanza then repeats the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line of the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the first line of the poem is also the last.

Last stanza:

Line 2 of previous stanza

Line 3 of first stanza

Line 4 of previous stanza

Line 1 of first stanza

This Modern Day (Sonnet)

This modern day doth promote looseness of lips

Easily speaking with nary a thought,

Then later in regret we come to grips

With what is proper as we had been taught.

A click of send with no recall,

Forever unleashed upon our world,

Try as we might we can never stall

The insults and hurt that we have hurled.

Nay, neither you nor I are immune;

We’re feeble and frail in our judgement moral.

Apologizing and vowing a different tune,

We beg forgiveness both written and oral.

Would it not have been best to have bitten our tongue

Forgoing the backlash that has now begun.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~