Category Archives: Poetry

The Touch of Poetry

I’m not a poet,

Whitman, Poe, Frost, Angelou,

Poet masters are these.

I, I am simply aspiring to their greatness,

Trying to find my way,

Trying to find the words to express my thoughts,

Trying to share what thrives inside of me.

Hoping that you find some  beauty in the words.

At times, thoughts evade me,

Words seem hard to form as if babbling,

Staring blankly at the page,

Suffering the pangs of the wall that hits me.

Knowing it won’t linger, helps me survive,

Just sitting with paper and pen comforts me,

Like an old friend, I clutch it close to my heart.

But it’s not for me to keep, but to share,

When words come,

Flowing, poetic, symbiotic,

Part of me, like my memories, rushes forth,

Screaming to be let out, shared with the world.

Happiest when I create,

Joyful in the company of prose,

Complete in the illusion that I’m artistic,

Whether real or imagined I don’t know.

Does it matter, I think not,

I will write,

I will let it take me down whatever road it chooses,

I will give my soul to whomever cares to take  it.

This I do out of respect for the art,

Even as an amateur,

I honor Whitman, Poe, Frost, and Angelou,

Hoping to make even the smallest of marks on those I touch.

The Beast

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Red is the moon,
Supernatural in it’s beauty
Frightening in it’s difference,
A distant howl shatters the dead quite night.

A mid-summer chill gnaws at my bones,
Trees casting shadows black as pitch,
Swaying in an unnatural dance,
Again, the wolf’s howl pierces the darkness.

Myths of old dash through my mind,
Illusions fog my senses,
Feeling helpless in the sight of the unseen,
Hastening my step to reach safety, but why?

The sound of footsteps,
Intermingling, then silencing my own,
I stop to listen,
Nothing but the wind rustling invisible folliage.

Sweat beads on my brow,
Dripping in torrents,
Clouding my vision and stinging my eyes,
Lips chapping cold, salty, hard to breathe.

Strangeness strangles me,
The howls are closer now, more frequent,
I strain to maintain composure,
Certainly this must be in my head.

My pace quickens as does my heartbeat,
Trying to outrun the howl,
Peering wide-eyed, over left shoulder then right,
Limbs and briars tear at my flesh.

Staggering confusion overtakes me,
Nothing seems familiar or friendly,
Sounds magnified with my heightened sense of awareness,
Stumbling, disoriented, trembling with fear.

But why?
Could it not be a dog?
A pet gone astray?
They say dogs are man’s best friend.

Behind me, in front of me, the howl,
They’re close now,
Growls, deep and guteral snap me back,
From the four winds they come.

What unholy hell is this?
A thousand pairs of eyes track me,
Nowhere to hide,
Blood trails down my face.

Hard to breathe,
Running seems the only solution,
Turning in cirles,
Those eyes, those howls, surround me.

Shadows, they seem so alive,
Moving closer,
Trying to suffocate me where I stand,
Like hands clutching at my throat.

Running, gasping, stumbling,
Tears welling up in my eyes,
Falling, they are almost upon me,
Resistance seems so futile.

Stunned, my face to the ground,
Foul breath envelopes me,
It’s moisture surrounds me like a cloud,
Terror takes hold of my very being.

Crawling, dragging myself to my feet,
I turn, they lunge,
A fury of fur and fang,
What nightmare has thrust me into this hell!

Beasts converge from all directions,
Flesh ripped from bone,
Pain numbs me,
Knocked to the ground under a demon pile.

Eyes flash a ghastly shade of green,
My body being torn asunder,
Who would have believed werewolves were real?
I can scarcely hear my death scream.

Limp, bloody and beaten, movement escapes me,
I can feel satan breathing in my face,
In a snarl I can see his unnatural fangs,
Dripping in blood, they are poised for the kill.

This moment of clarity,
Staring the beast in the eyes,
He has won, I was never any match,
My throat his grand prize.

Blood flowing uncontrollably,
No longer able to speak,
I can feel my life force draining away,
No more pain, no more fear.

To those that may follow,
Myths are routed in reality,
By God werewolves are real!
Just ask what is left of me.

The Grand Discovery

My reflection in the mirror,

A vision of the anti-me,

Not of flesh and blood,

Who am I?

What defines me?

A grandson,

A son,

A husband,

A parent,

I am all of these,

And yet I am none of these,

Reaching inside myself,

My essence floods over me,

I am so much more.

A poet,

A musician,

A story teller,

A friend,

Passionate and compassionate,

Creative and thoughtful,

Not merely what I outwardly project.

Yet who am I,

That remains a question for which I have no answer,

Ever evolving, I am constantly reborn,

Constantly discovering and rediscovering,

That which makes me…me.

The Vow – A Poem

By D. R. DiFrancesco

I could never find fault in you,
My soul lashed to yours won’t permit it,
Kindness envelopes your heart,
The warm inviting happiness in your smile
Blinds me to what others may see.

In my tribulation you have always been there,
Sickness and health has been no barrier,
My sadness washed away by your tears,
Nothing more could I ask of you,
All I could hope to repay, to return like kindness.

At my worst you stood by me,
Taking my hand to your lips,
A gentle kiss to reassure me,
Comforting me in your glow,
Inspiring my belief that everything would be okay.

When my strength weakend,
Bedridden and afflicted, you reinforced me,
Loving me without condition,
Honoring our vows,
Until I was strong again in my own flesh.

My friend through every storm,
I couldn’t ask for a better mate,
We are in union,
Syncronized to this lifes time,
My passion, my devotion, my love.

 

Moral Decay

By D. R. DiFrancesco

Fantasy glimmers amongst shades of crimson,
Distorting reality for it’s own vice,
Leaving idle minds to drown in corruption,
Leading tormented souls to succumb.

Society passes off lust as love,
Mingling sensitivities with animal instinct,
Numbing what sensibilities we portend to have,
Replacing them with primative urges.

Celluloid visions feed arousal and carnality,
Drifting recklessly across our screens,
Youth despoiled by images of debauchery,
Rendering them hollow and defiled.

Who’s to blame for the moral decay?
Pointing the venomous finger of irresponsibility,
Looking to the state for civil retort,
Misplacing censure to cloak parental shortcomings.

We are to blame,
Ignoring that which tears at our moral fiber,
Restraint not prudishness the intention,
Reaping what we sow our just deserve.

The Looking Glass

A window,

Like any other window,

Panes separate reality from fiction,

Anonymity, my closest friend.

 

The sidewalk,

Crowded with actors in this play,

Passers by looking up,

I’m part of the backdrop,

Important to the scenery,

Insignificant to the story,

But at least I’m still on stage.

 

I watch and listen,

Taking in the hustle and bustle outside,

So cliche’ yet so relevant,

The horns, the taxis,

Rushing to get to God knows where,

All to make another dollar.

 

People scramble,

Suits and ties, bohemians and homeless,

Sharing the same life on the streets,

Avoiding eye contact,

Avoiding making it personal

Too afraid of feeling empathy for those around them.

 

The children,

Double-dutch and hopscotch,

Brings back memories of simpler times,

Things weren’t so complicated back then,

Fire hydrants to beat the summer heat,

Careless and carefree were the names of the game.

 

My hands to glass,

Breath fogging my lens to the world,

Wishing I could be part of the show,

Instead of just a prop,

Destined to remain alone,

A fish in this fishbowl I call home.

 

A window,

Like any other window,

Panes separate reality from fiction,

Anonymity, my closest friend.

Natural Beauty

Natural Bridge – Located in Natural Bridge, VA
Taken July 8, 2012

A gown of crystal flows at your feet

Unpretentious yet purposeful in its design

Your hard exterior shaped by the elements

Wind and water the artists brush

Veins of brown and green soften your skin

Giving life to those harbored within your walls

For centuries you have been looked upon in awe

A natural wonder bathed in warm colors

Ever evolving in size and beauty

Leaving your mark on lives touched

Splendid, majestic, enchanting

Character only the creator could have imagined

In Memorial

She is gone now,

Weeks have passed,

Shock is no more.

Resigned to the fact that we won’t see her again,

We won’t share coffee around the kitchen table,

Won’t share meals at the holidays,

Won’t see the warm smile,

Won’t see the pride in her eyes at our little accomplishments.

Grandmothers are someone taken for granted,

They were always there,

From our beginning,

Naively we think that they will never leave.

Still something deep in our hearts knows  its a lie,

We lie to ourselves because its easier than facing the truth.

The status quo easier to take than the pain,

But nothing can stay the same.

Parents become Grandparents,

Children, parents,

The eternal cycle repeats like a palindrome.

I don’t pretend to know what lay beyond this fragile life,

We pray to, hope for, obsess about an unseen God,

Holding steadfast to our faith,

Grasping with clenched fists to the fabric of what’s left of our existence,

Knowing that in time, we to, will meet our maker,

Whomever we conceive our maker to be.

In this, our soul finds consolation,

Finding peace in our belief in the unknowable,

Finding relief in the belief that this world is just the beginning,

That eternal life is not a myth,

But instead a promise of something greater,

Something greater than anything created in our mortal imaginations.

In this hope,

We find comfort.

In this hope,

We find peace.

As we pay our final respects,

In this hope,

You will not be forgotten.

Instead,

In this hope of heaven,

We say goodbye.

Independence Day, A Day to Remember – (A Poem)

The smell of powder,

Clouds of smoke sting the eyes,

Tearing, trying to see beyond the fence line,

Nauseating odor of sulfur offends the senses.

Screams!

Blood curdling screams!

Pierce the sound of canon fire,

Tattered flags wave wearily above the shouts,

The cocking of flint locks magnified by thousands,

Fire!

Deafening explosions,

The buzz of lead fills the air,

Surreal as comrades fall,

The sting of the cold,

Numbs as we move forward.

Snow covered fields no longer virgin,

Crimson corrupts the purity,

Flowing like rivers from the lifeless,

Moans echo through the trees.

Corpses, limbs, appendages litter the plain,

The stench of death!

Repulsive!

Time to reload,

Focus or die,

No time for regrets,

This is a cause far greater than ourselves,

Fire! the General’s call

Sabre raised overhead as the stallion rears

He is gone!

His station irrelevant,

War plays no favorites,

Blood flowing warm and freezing,

Staining the newly fallen snow.

We must carry on,

No time to mourn,

Remember why we are here.

Remember how we got to this place.

History, our history,

Freedom,

Independence,

For the birth of a nation!

America!

Born on the Forth of July!

Overcome

With each step forward

We open doors into the unknown

New challenges rush to face us

Throwing up a gauntlet to halt our progress

Forcing us to confront  our fears

Our doubts push us to grow

To thrive

To succeed at all which we strive to do

No matter the constraints we place on ourselves.