Tag Archives: beauty

Smoke Wafts O’er The Granite Mountainside

Smoke wafts o’er the granite mountainside;

Black and thick in a murderous haze.

Sulfur taints the crusty putrid air

Drowning out the glorious scent of honeysuckle and pine.

Babbling brooks once vocal no longer babble;

Their voices silenced by dam, drought and pollution.

Dry and cracked beds mar earths aging face

Leaving tinder for natures fiery furnace.

From my hilltop perch a murky brown sludge chokes the valley floor.

What hazards are these we should ask,

Though no one cares but for convenience and profit.

As we seek cause and cure for man’s maladies

Might we look no further than ourselves,

Our misuse of natures gifts,

Our burning of fossil fuels,

Pollution of our most precious resources–air and water,

Is it any wonder we are plagued with incurable disease?

Yet even the slightest attempts to change course

Are stalled by the profiteers gauntlet.

Science–when used for their benefit is gospel,

But dismissed as leftist propaganda

When the planet and climate are on stage.

Look beyond your four walls,

Breathe deeply,

Feel the burn in your tainted lungs,

Wipe the tears from your stinging eyes and look if you can,

Is this the vision of paradise that you sought

For you and your children?

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

How Intricate The Knots

How intricate the knots,

The thread so delicate,

I scarcely ever noticed before.

How often had I torn them down

Treating them as a nuisance.

Perhaps out of ignorance,

Perhaps out of misplaced fear,

Picturing a threat where one did not exist.

Without prompt I stopped in my tracks,

Marvelling at this masterpiece

Spun from the lowly spider.

Her web so unlike the tangles of man,

Perfect and symmetrical,

Designed with a divine purpose.

Not to deceive…nay,

But to live and to feed

As the Creator intended.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Blurry Eyed I Wake (Tanka)

Blurry eyed I wake
Smell of spring envelops me
Song birds my alarm
Only Heaven could surpass
The perfection of this day

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

The Sun Still Rose

The sun still rose as I knew it would,

The birds sang their songs,

The winds blew strong,

The grass remained green just as it should.

 

In dawns dim light I opened my eyes,

My wife lay sleeping by my side,

My children in the next rooms reside,

All of these cause joy in my heart to rise.

 

The waters flow cooling parched earth,

The skies still a brilliant shade of blue,

The flowers bloom as they always do,

These more valuable than material worth.

 

Life continues like every other day,

As it has O’ these fifty years on,

Caring not the least as each new day dawns,

For it knows no other way.

 

I guess I’m just part of this natural flow,

Arriving then passing with time,

Like the bird and the beast and the tree and the vine,

I’ll receive my calling to go.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Not Unlike Any Other Day

Not unlike any other day;

Venturing a noon day stroll.

Characteristic music playing in my ears

Eerily absent as I make my way.

Preferring to listen to songs playing around me;

The rustling of leaves,

The birds in the trees,

Mariachi blaring from a passing car,

The sound of machinery

Busying otherwise idle hands,

The sounds of steel pipe clanging,

All music to my ears,

All sounds I would have missed

If they were muffled by my Beats.

How interesting I found this orchestra,

Each playing to its own metronome.

None were less sweet than the other

Though how vastly different the pitch.

Perhaps this is the beginning a new routine,

One in which I take notice.

Enjoying both the sights and sounds

Of the world that surrounds me

Instead of drowning it out with modern gadgetry.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Storms (A Lover’s Story)

Storms are not relegated just to the sky,

They’re raging on in lover’s eyes.

Torrents of lust and passions bold,

In each others arms their instincts hold.

 

Control and thoughts most surely fleet,

As pheromones lead them off their feet.

Entwined their hearts will finally merge,

Giving in to primitive animal urge.

 

In shuddering release the stars ignite,

No longer capable of offering up a fight.

With tender caress the lovers complete,

Off they drift to sleeps retreat.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Sky–Canvas of Blue (Tanka)

Sky–canvas of blue

The sun paints with golden hues

Nothing left to chance

Perfection in its glory

Mother Nature’s finest work

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

The Great Overseer Watches

Photo By Oloriel

Photo By Oloriel

The great overseer watches,

Staring down upon the flora and fauna,

Yellow in the face,

Looming large,

Dwarfing all in his path.

Yet enormity is merely size,

It does not reveal his gentleness.

He would not crush the delicate flower,

Nor terrify beasts of the field.

He leaves no trace of where he’s been

Or where he is going when he leaves.

WIth grace and in silence he rises,

Laying his soft light upon all in his charge.

Signaling slumber for those of the day

And sounding his alarm for the nocturnal.

This is his way,

This is how he always has been.

He simply is

…The gentle giant.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #6 – “The Moon Garden”, Photo by Oloriel

 

To Arise Before Sun-up

To arise before sun-up,

A ritual held for many a year.

Watching the sun breach the horizon and erupt,

One that many find most queer.

~

The silence treasured,

As the bird snores its song.

The days birth measured,

As its hours plod along.

~

Brewing coffee ever so lightly fills the air,

From the window perch dawns light grows.

Soundlessly showing the utmost care,

Slumber reigns majestic as solitude shows.

~

Morning…oh blessed morning what have you to say?

Good morning perhaps as it always has done.

There cannot, must not be any other way,

Than to start the day anew as it has always begun.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco —

~

Poetry Prompt: We Drink Because We’re Poets – Poetry Prompt #8 – Morning

I’m Not My Body

I’m not my body.

It’s nothing but a flesh vase

Holding the real me.

The me that was before this,

The me not of this world,

The me of spirit.

Who I was before my birth;

Nothing but essence,

Not created or destroyed,

The me of eternity.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~