There–At The Wheel

There–at the wheel of the car that sat behind me,

It isn’t so much what I could here, but more of what I could see.


Hands were thrashing back and forth waving to and fro,

Your anger I could feel, I didn’t have to know.


Showing teeth, your lips were curled like a rabid dog,

You seemed to be unaware as if enveloped in fog.


No, I cannot read ones lips though I surely sensed your rage,

Your act was more attuned to an actor taking stage.


I can only imagine what you said, “I can’t believe you cheated”,

Words been said a million times and millions more repeated.


Awkward silence is my guess on the other end of the line,

She probably ignored “Working late” and other telltale signs.


Placing blame is not my point as love is based on trust,

One her partner clearly breached is my only thrust.


Though I could not hear her call I felt her silent pain,

My story of the jilted spouse driving the right-hand lane.


~~ Dominic R. DIFrancesco ~~


We Drink Because We’re Poets — Poetry Prompt #5 – The Ear


AUTHOR’S NOTE:  I took some liberties with this prompt as I don’t often pay attention to others conversations, probably because my hearing is not all that great.  Instead I used an incident that I saw as I was driving back to my office from a job about 3 weeks ago.  There was a woman in the car behind me (driving), angrily waving her arms and clearly screaming into her cell phone.  I used my imagination to come up with the story behind her her obvious rage.

It Grows Dark in a Firestorm of Tumultuous Passion (Sonnet)

It grows dark in a firestorm of tumultuous passion

Thoughts of you under another’s caress

Fighting to keep you in any fashion

Its you, by any means I must possess


You promised eternal love before family and friends

I do, sealed with a kiss we were wed

Our vows for you clearly were a means to an end

By the folly you’ve made of our bed


Is not the sanctity of marriage to be held sacred

Clearly not by your monogamous charade

You’ve done nothing more than fertilize a hatred

Flaunting your sins as if on parade


With this to my senses I have finally arrived

At the realization–what I thought was love was really contrived


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~