Musings of an Aspiring Author and Poet
What have we become?
Both sides are fatally flawed.
We–the laughingstocks!
Politics are the cancer
Eating our nation alive.
Are we to perish,
Fading into history
Like Rome’s empire;
Remembered for its grandeur
Through its crumbling ruins?
Perhaps it’s too late,
Our experiment–a dream
May evaporate
Becoming just a footnote
In the annals of mankind.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
We see the light ahead through splintered shores,
At once familiar and comforting is now gone.
Man labors with back and hand in attempt to restore
All that growing up we cherished most fond.
This eternal fight we fight against nature’s mother
Seldom permits us a chance to win.
An emboldened adversary unlike any other,
One we’ve struggled against since time began.
Still we battle her in the most reckless of ways
Settling on shores in storm fronts path.
Destruction and death like the end-of-days;
Consequences suffered by the masters wrath.
As time passes–in weakness we forget
Under crystal skies and the calming blue sea.
Rebuilding what was lost without worry or regret,
Ignoring natures warnings by choosing not to flee.
As history has proven this will happen again,
Crushing what we make like a house of cards.
Then just like before we will struggle and mend,
Sweeping away the timber and shards.
What do we expect when we challenge the Almighty
By rebuking the call to heed his demands.
Instead doing what we please–never contritely,
Choosing to suffer rather than follow his commands.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
No one left behind
The motto of a nation
Turned political
We must bring our loved ones home
Not sacrifice them as pawns
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Prostate on the fetid jungle floor,
Draped in the red and orange ornamental cotton robes of a monk
He lay mesmerized by the tablets shambolic scribble.
What could this possibly mean?
Hands shaking as he held the tablet, deep down he knew.
Though menacing, with his henna facial markings,
He had an uneasy feeling that he could not diffuse.
Fraught with fear, he reached for his decanter of Holy Water,
Thinking he could protect himself from this Pagan curse..
Chanting, the lowly monk prayed that the grace of his God would save him,
But alas, the synthesis of prayer and paraphernalia could not shield his mortal soul.
Gasping his last breath and with devotion still in his failing heart
The lowly monk rose with tablet raised overhead and struck,
Shattering the curse over a rock that lay before him,
Praying that the tablets curse with him would die
Never to plague mankind again.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
~
I am like water
Soft and pliable yet strong
Moving with the tide
Always going with its flow
Until I meet destiny
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
The latest creation by the very talented storyteller Charles Yallowitz, why not give it a read, you won’t be sorry.
The Hopeteller (Cover by Tracy Carrig)
Book Blurb:
Humanity has been driven into the wilderness by the ‘Invaders’. They have been forced to live as colonies in the wilderness where survival is a daily struggle. Hope becomes harder and harder to hold onto as the years pass.
Then one day, a young man tells a story to an injured friend and the Hopeteller is born. Unsure of the power of his words, he finds himself moving the colony with his fairy tales. He will see his people through death and fear as they continue to fight for survival.
Enjoy this novella that is half post-apocalyptic journal and half fairy tales.
A bell doth toll in distant tower.
From my prison balcony
The smell of figs,
Sweet and fragrant waketh me from my trance.
Much prefered to the odor of irony rot oozing from beneath thy ligatures
That holdeth me captive.
Thy constant seeping maketh me nauseous.
O’ how I long to draw my dagger from its leathery sheath;
To feel thy pressure as I spiral into peaceful eternal sleep.
To taste the honey of death woulds’t be such relief,
For this living art not emulous of life.
I blush to think that this is how my end shalt come,
At the hands of thy cowards and fools.
Yet destiny hath no master
And I, but a pawn shalt be sacrificed
For thine greater good.
I committeth my soul into thine hands;
With the hope that thou mayest sleep at night
Knowing the wrong thou hast done,
–I bid thee farewell.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Although they’re older
Children still seek approval
It’s human nature
Do not be too judgemental
Or you will push them away
What a tragedy
And a travesty this is
To our flesh and blood
These are wounds that do not heal
Because we need to be right
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Yet another name
Etched in the blackest granite
Written with their blood
We are called to remember
Each and every spring–in May
Recognizing them
Honoring their families
Their sacrifices
A debt we can not repay
Except with our hearts and minds
Thank you
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
