By D. R. DiFrancesco
Grasping at my soul
Frost of love gone cold haunts me
Every waking hour
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Love like summer’s heat
Burns deeply with passing time
Capturing the heart
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Screaming out in pain
Wallowing in tears of lose
Praying you return
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Your gentle fragrance
It’s bouquet embraces me
Softened with a kiss
By D. R. DiFrancesco
The circus arrived many years ago,
Staking claim to hallowed ground that was not their own,
Jugglers, acrobats, circus clowns fragmenting your mind,
Side shows of a freakish nature.
Your thoughts being tossed,
Like so many rainbow colored balls,
Blurred and spinning round and round,
Distorting the line between what’s real and what’s fantasy.
Unsure of who you are,
Whirling dervish’s do cartwheels upsetting your equilibrium,
Stumbling and falling you struggle to regain composure,
Putting on a show for the horde.
You paint on your happy face,
Trying to shut out the worry with jokes, laughter and slight of hand,
Insecurity and despondency boo at you from the crowd,
While secretly you crave the drugs that keep you sane.
Yet the show must go on,
Since life doesn’t stand still for you,
Under your big top of antidepressants,
You cope as best you can.
Each day brings a new performance,
Crowds of onlookers hoping for a fall,
But you won’t give them the satisfaction,
Instead you maintain your balance on the tightrope that is your existence.
Manitou Springs, CO from above
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Rugged peaks staring like watchmen,
Looking for any hint of normalcy,
A little quirky,
Bohemian,
Rastafarian, Hippie,
A little different,
Definitely leaning to the left.
Facades of stone, turquoise, melon and sunflower,
Offbeat and off the beaten track,
Caribbean blue bathtub a resident of the sidewalk,
Strange and wonderful.
Impromptu concert in the park,
Just a girl and a guitar,
Playing for loose change or applause.
Cobblestone sidewalks,
Catering to backpack laden travelers,
Dogs of all persuasions for companions,
Destination unknown.
Music store…instruments handmade,
Pottery store…pottery handmade,
Ice cream store…ice cream homemade,
Candles, jewelry, various sundries,
What ever will we do without a Walmart.
Mineral springs,
Bubbly and metallic,
Ancient cure for what ails you,
Free for the taking if you can stand it.
Another way of life,
Laid back but not lazy,
Preppies and beatniks equally at home,
In this timeless town that time forgot.
Awestruck by the four walls,
Snow covered peaks,
With Pike as their master,
Manitou Springs will not be forgotten.
Downtown Manitou Springs Colorado
Rock covered armored vehicle
Afghanistan
Children and adult villages pelt
the vehicles with rocks as they pass
By D. R. DiFrancesco
I don’t pretend to know the feelings of war,
I’ve never served,
Instead living the joy and sorrow,
Loneliness and homesickness through my son.
Here I sit in my easy chair,
TV tuned to CNN,
Disgusted that there is no coverage,
Do they even remember we are at war?
I remember every waking hour of the day,
Passing my sons empty room,
Left as a constant reminder that he’s far from home,
Living in squalor, among Camel Spiders and Taliban.
He wrote,
Finally I realize…
Everything here wants to kill us,
My eyes welled up with tears.
He’s his own man now,
No longer can his mother and I protect him,
Our trust must be placed in his training,
Relying on his bravery and strength.
This makes it no easier,
Weeks pass with no word,
Sadness and worry are all consuming,
Struggling to maintain sanity.
Then a brief call or message online,
All is well, could you send me a few things,
I need new boots, snacks, vitamins,
My God its hot here.
For just a few moments there is happiness,
Content that for now he is safe,
Then he is gone again,
No word for weeks.
Sitting in my easy chair,
Still no coverage on TV,
Certain that they have forgotten.
Praying for the next call.
Don’t worry,
I’m safe and doing well.
PLEASE DON”T FORGET OUR BRAVE MEN AND WOMEN SERVING IN AFGHANISTAN
OR ELSEWHERE AROUND THE WORLD
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Simple pleasures,
Too often ignored.
Sunsets,
A gentle rain,
The beauty of a newborn,
All wasted on the modern world.
Facebook,
Twitter,
Video games,
Smartphones,
E-mail,
We are trapped in a virtual world.
Never truly disconnected,
Dinner conversation is replaced by tweeting,
Facebook friend counts are more important than eye contact.
Do we even remember putting pen to paper?
Talking face-to-face with an old friend,
Asking each other “How was your day?”,
I’m not sure that we do.
Tracking loved ones by GPS,
Texting while driving,
Driving while tweeting,
All the makings of a digital death wish.
Welcome to the 21st century,
Where new is not necessarily better,
And life has emerged impersonal!
By D. R. DiFrancesco
A single candle,
A dimly lit room,
Your face,
A flickering mix of light and shadow,
Still I would know you anywhere.
My fingers trace your silhouette,
I recognize every curve,
Committed to memory as if they were my own,
A map of the life we have lived together.
Is this not what love is?
Two souls conjoined,
Hearts beating in like rhythms,
Indistinguishable from one another.
Yet we are opposites,
In nearly every way dissimilar,
Inexplicably attracted though,
Balancing on a razors edge.
You turn to me,
The warmth of your breath caresses my ear,
Your tender moist kiss envelops me,
At once I am yours and you are mine.
We are one.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Reddened cheeks tear stained
Broken heart bleeding crimson
Poisoned by lost loves
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Soft and tender kiss
Blushing my body tingles
Leaving me breathless
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Take my calloused hand
Gently enveloped by love
Softening my soul
Tracing careful steps,
I can see you are upset.
I touch your hand,
Gentle and caring but you pull back.
My gaze tries to meet yours,
But you look away.
A tear traces a sorrowful line down your cheek,
Reaching to wipe it away you slap my hand.
Your silence echos louder than words ever could,
In typical fashion I struggle to discover what I have done.
Is it something I said, something I did?
For God’s sake I’m not a mind reader!
This dance of wills goes on and on,
Resigned to the fact that I will lose,
No give or take just a cold shoulder and I’m to blame.
Bizarre and yet comical,
Juvenile in it’s pettiness.
Looking back these squabbles always make us laugh.
Maybe I had too much to drink,
Maybe I told a story that she didn’t want me to tell,
Or maybe I forgot her birthday,
This only happened once,
Fortunately she is forgiving.
It could be attributed to male ignorance I suppose,
Does this dissolve me of blame?
Yes…until the next time.
Sadly there will be a next time,
Confident in my shortcomings,
I will take up residence in the doghouse once again.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Do you like what you see,
Molded after what you dreamed I’b be,
Sheltered behind walls of stone.
My wings clipped,
Meant to keep me safe,
Instead, caging my will to fly.
I knocked on fates door,
Only to have it slammed angrily in my face,
Resigned to a destiny of civilized certainty.
Is this the path I would have chosen?
Maybe, but that was for me to adjudge,
I never had the chance to find out.
Adolescence enslaved me,
Chaining my desires, preventing them from soaring,
Pushing me in directions that you found acceptable.
Age held no respite,
Desire for approval ingrained into my being,
Second guessing decisions through your minds eye.
Passage to maturity should not proceed this way,
Life’s lessons are meant to form us,
To be our guide through our metamorphosis to adulthood.
Despite being bound to the past,
Handcuffed to the vision of what I was supposed to be.
I have broken free of the iron shackles of my youth.
With no time for regrets I have freed me,
Unlocking my hopes from the dungeon of childhood,
Escaping the hangman that would have stifled my future.
Look back I would not change a thing,
Realizing that your protectiveness although misguided, decided who I became,
Leaving it up to me to alter the path on which I strode.
In strength I have become myself,
Confronting my shortcomings with an iron fist,
Finding the goodness in what I have become.
Harboring no compunction,
You did what you did out of love for my well-being,
Although flawed doing what you thought was best.
For this I thank you.
Hwy 93 Arizona
At daylight’s break embark to travel,
Down roads of asphalt, concrete and gravel.
Destination unknown, no map in hand,
Fun is not knowing where we will land.
Crossing desert dry, barren and bleak,
Distant the cool tree covered mountain peaks.
Joshua tree forest must first be traversed,
Bizarre and twisted as something not of this earth.
Joshua Tree Forest – Arizona
What wonders this world continues to show,
With every mile we travel many more to go.
Sadly this beauty for youth won’t be mentioned,
Instead iPods, iPads and Facebook capture their attention.
Nowhere, Arizona a one building town,
Stopping to look, not a soul to be found.
Dilapidated and boarded the structure in disrepair,
By harsh wind or rot it will soon vanish in thin air.
The landscape it changes as if landing on the moon,
Mountains of boulders stacked across the desert are strewn.
As if blown from volcanoes long ago extinct,
Coloring the imagination or at least a pause to think.
Not long, maybe not more than a mile,
In the rearview mirror the unexplainable rock pile.
More desert, it never seems to end,
To Bull Head or Mead, to go straight or take the bend.
Go straight wins by the toss of a coin,
To Hoover and Mead a sight we purloin.
Desolate landscape finally breaks,
Over a hill in mountains our breath it does take.
Up and up we had unknowingly gone,
Thousands of feet of climb we have done.
Deep down below the majestic Colorado River,
It twinkles and glistens in the sun gives us shivers.
As high as we are so small it appears,
Looking over the edge it’s magnificence brings tears.
Hoover Dam – Arizona / Nevada
The mighty Hoover Dam lion tamer to Lake Mead,
It’s concrete and steel whip contains the rivers on which it feeds.
Drought and overuse have taken its toll,
Leaving scarred and starving this wonderful man-made bowl.
Still the ingenuity of this feet is something to behold.
It’s sight is jaw-dropping and never gets old.
Lake Mead – Nevada / Arizona
Great distances unnecessary, unplanned and unscripted,
A simple excursion my spirits uplifted.
Dom DiFrancesco 