Emperor sun reigns
Sculpting earth to hells vision
Turning flesh to bone
Coronated in heaven
As master of this domain
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Musings of an Aspiring Author and Poet
Emperor sun reigns
Sculpting earth to hells vision
Turning flesh to bone
Coronated in heaven
As master of this domain
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
What does Heaven know of my dreams?
Maybe nothing, maybe everything,
In its silence I believe lies wisdom and strength.
Our mortal senses confuse that which is beyond physical,
Trusting nothing which we can not see.
This betrays the spirit of man.
Something far bigger than myself is my guide,
Calling me to greatness when I’m willing to listen.
In the quiet of meditation I can hear the inner voice,
Mine or God’s I do not know;
Perhaps we are one and the same.
I pray this will be revealed when I return to my origin,
The being of spirit that I was before my mortal birth.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Though wall of block, a wisp I spied
Through peephole–well not more than crack
Golden hair, skin of ivory eyed
While perched on crate, one two I stacked
~
Her features shone like porcelain ‘tis true
Vertiginous from height or beauty unsure
From my perch to the ground in a flutter I flew
Regaining my wits was certainly a chore
~
Meet her I must if the last thing I do
Her door I did charge feeling strangely at ease
I knock with brass knocker not one time but two
To the butler I ask, “fetch my lady if you please”
~
Loveliest of ladies scent of lilac and fair
Laconic I was in her all consuming presence
My mind like an eddy void of breath and of air
Giddy as most boys in adolescence
~
Most surely I appeared as the oddity I must be
Arriving at her door unannounced
With grace and with style she greeted me with glee
My fragile heart she cherished not trounced
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
~
The storm rages on
Drowning out the voice within
~~ Helpless to fight it
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Pain you cannot see,
Can be heard–
In the wavering of words,
Can be seen–
In the worried expression.
Reliving the past in waking dreams;
Speaking to the invisible that seem so real;
Returning to the present awash with anger.
Ravages of war do not always leave visible wounds–
For the visible may be treated with scalpel and stitch.
That which is unseen may be the most devastating of all,
Lasting a lifetime,
Tormenting, demonizing, incapacitating,
Shattering the spirit.
We see this on the streets,
We see this in the shelters,
We see it on the cardboard signs
And in the tin cans held out by dirty hands,
No place is immune.
These are the ones we turn away,
Diverting our eyes,
Ignoring them as a nuisance,
Wishing they would just go away.
Does not their sacrifice grant them better?
They gave when called,
Offering life and limb;
Permitting us the pursuit of our happiness.
Yet what do we offer in return?
Nothing but contempt.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Sun smiles on me
Uplifting my darkened soul
~~ I have been reborn
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~