Something Gnaws At Me

Something gnaws at me

Shredding the scars of my heart

Left to bleed again

Cleanly cut by razor blades

Love’s left to spill on the floor

Why pain in passion

So much that it breaks the heart


Is not love the greatest joy

As promised from up above

Perhaps I’m fickle

Believing that love is grand

Like in fairytales

If this turns out to be false

Then I am a born victim


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

It Comes Not In A Jar

It comes not in a jar,

Can not be boxed, placed in a sack.

There is no recipe,

No cookbook, no formula to concoct.

There is no raffle,

No lottery, no auction to crave.

It’s no magic potion,

No spell, no wand you can wave.

Very often there’s pain

It slashes, it slices right down to the bone.

Frequently it’s blind,

It’s crippled, it’s stunted as others have shone.

But more often than not it results in true bliss,

It’s passion, it’s love that is tops on the list.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


The Smell Of Baked Bread

The smell of baked bread

Like perfume of memory

Grandma at the stove

O’ how joyful was childhood

When things were much simpler

Adulthood does dull

Senses fade to the background

Turning cynical

Happiness replaced by stress

O’ how soon we do forget


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~