Musings of an Aspiring Author and Poet
In daylights passing there is peace,
Swaddled in twilight’s romantic glow.
A scattering of rays as if piercing a prism,
Turning the heavens once blue to mandarin.
Calm and cooler the evening breeze reinvigorates,
Ushering in a welcome sensation of renewal.
Is there anything more glorious?
Serenity floods the soul like a rapids,
Driving out dissent and pessimism,
Replacing it with tranquil blissful sleep.
Radiant neon,
Red, blue, green, white,
A rainbow of color,
Scorching the retina,
A sun that never sets.
Bells, whistles, catcalls, cheers,
Mixed with alcohol and cash,
Money talks,
Life savings optional.
Short skirts and translucent dresses,
Too much stuffed into too little,
Margaritas and sex,
Perfect together,
If the price is right.
On the strip…crowds,
Everyone looking to score,
Card flippers peddling porn,
Homeless looking for coin,
On more chance to turn things around,
Too bad it doesn’t work that way.
Freak show on Fremont,
Cover bands and booze,
Love beads and striptease,
Cross dressers and assless chaps,
Crowds like sardines,
Crammed to see the latest 80’s bands,
Middle aged balding groupies,
Headbanging to regain their youth,
Oh to be 50 again.
A show in itself,
Las Vegas,
There’s a reason for the saying…
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
Sadness,
Cast like a net over me,
Threatening to pull me under.
Staring out the window as if hypnotized,
Cars pass,
Wind blows through the trees,
Pedestrians carry on with their day,
The sun is shining,
Still I see nothing and feel everything.
This unexplainable innervation,
Shows up like an unexpected visitor,
Uninvited and unwanted,
Unshakable.
Bombarding me with questions and doubts,
Hiding my head in the sand,
Trying to bury the incessant noise,
Unsuccessful, I succumb to the torment,
Tired,
I find little consolation in it’s ephemeral nature,
Its no less painful,
Seems no less eternal,
Leaves me no less hopeless.
With painted smile,
I wander aimlessly through the day,
An observer of my surroundings,
Unable to participate,
Handicapped by sorrow,
Handcuffed to my emotions.
Viscerally I know this will pass,
This realization is all that sustains me,
A lifeline tossed to a drowning man,
Grabbing hold with all my strength,
Waiting to be dragged to shore,
Into the waiting arms of sanity.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
The alarm rings,
Pastie mouthed, joints aching,
Swinging my legs off the bed,
Damn arthritis,
The cold is killing me.
I rub my eyes to wipe away the blur,
Standing in line to use the bathroom,
It wasn’t always this way.
Looking over my shoulder,
Bedroll, pair of pants and a shirt,
All I have left to my name,
Insignificant to most,
Something to fight for.
A hot meal,
Maybe the last for the day,
An assembly line of the wretched,
Like dogs fighting over scraps of meat,
Degrading and demoralizing.
Back to the street,
Bedroll under my arm,
Wearing everything I own.
More stares,
People pass by,
Eye contact would make me human,
I was an accountant for God’s sake,
I had a wife,
Left when times got tough,
I have kids,
They think Daddy’s gone away.
No surprise work is hard to come by,
One set of cloths,
Infrequent showers,
Unshaven,
Politicians want us to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps,
What bootstraps,
I wouldn’t hire me?
Panhandling,
For money, food, drink, and the occasional odd job,
Pennies, rocks, and insults are thrown my way,
I’m not a bum,
I’m you, one hospital bill away,
One hospital bill and you are me.
Maybe I’ll get a hot meal tonight,
Shelter,
A warm bed,
Maybe I won’t,
Look in the mirror,
Who do you see?
Gentle waves caress the hull,
As a lover to it’s mate,
Soft undulations fostering a grand dream.
Gulls sound their lullaby,
Urging on this docile behemoth,
Fashioned of wood and pitch.
Sun warming the salt bleached deck,
Whilst beams reflect off whitecaps crest,
Blinding as diamonds are beautiful.
Cool breezes buffet weather worn sails,
Placidly rolling port and starboard,
Slicing onward through gulf born swell.
Spar raised skyward,
Touching heaven with square sail unfurled,
Carried by the breath of angels.
Acrid spray stings,
Overpowering the bulkhead in swarms,
Showering planks with briny ice.
Days last glow cast shadow approaches,
Salt sea air begs sailors slumber,
Beckoning twilight to take the helm.
Timber creaks with waves touch tender,
As starlight hails sunsets mate,
The moon assumes this maidens master.
What ports ahead in waters uncharted,
Daybreak’s charge determines the way,
To stern bid farewell the fore she must go.
Time humbles the man,
Back arching under the weight of a lifetime,
Old photographs,
A reminder of good friends and loves that long ago passed.
The mind drifts,
Not as sharp or quick witted as it once was,
Long gone memories much fresher than today,
Then again, yesterday fits me much better.
Hair gone white,
Deep creases travel like dry river beds across my face,
Skin soft and sagging,
Looking in the mirror I can scarcely recognize myself.
Who is that old man staring back at me?
Drawn and tired,
Teeth yellowed, eyelids hanging like cheap suits,
I know it’s me inside this costume.
The crumbling exterior,
A vessel for a lifetime of wisdom and experience.
Earned through pain, suffering, love, and joy,
A gift wasted on the young.
None of this would I trade for the impetuousness of youth,
Born of blood sweat, and tears,
Etched in my face as a reminder,
A badge to be worn with honor.
By D. R. DiFrancesco
Emotions so fragile,
Pushed to the forefront,
Exposed like raw nerves.
Twisted to fit the mold,
Irrational to the point of ridiculous,
Impossible to live without.
In apathy we stifle them,
Turning cold and hard,
Void of feelings toward the outside world.
In love they are laid bare,
Naked to the beholder,
Shatterable as crystal in the hands of a child.
In anger they are irrational,
Fierce and hateful in their rage,
Destructive as fire when unrestrained.
In joy there is peace,
Freely gifted to those accepting,
Shared willingly without precondition or pretense.
In sadness there is affliction,
Crushing then strengthening our resolve,
Amplifying our vulnerabilities.
Unique in our humanness,
Thriving on more than instinct alone,
Alive in our emotions.
The heat of summer
Bakes the earth to cinders
Life thrives in this hell
———————————————-
Water carves the sphere
Bringing character from God
To the earth it’s canvas
———————————————-
Shattered window breaks
Leaving shards of glass below
Rocks thrown by children
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.
Dom DiFrancesco 