Boom

Boom!

Explosions foretell impending doom.

Shrapnel tears, litter, debris,

Screams of those one cannot see.

Missiles launched behind human shields,

Zionists and zealots refuse to yield.

Suffering little as the innocent die,

Denying they’re complicit, a terrible lie.

Which side is right, which side is wrong,

Difficult to tell they’ve hated so long.

Whether Gaza, Israel, Russia, Ukraine,

War is still war just with different names.

Fighting for ethnicity, Allah or God,

They’re “holier than thou” is just a facade.

Violence and death under whatever name,

Can’t be justified no matter what the claim.

Which leads me to wonder whether peace is desired,

With every bomb dropped and each rocket fired.

These wars have carried on for eons ‘til today,

I wonder if they really know any other way.

While their innocent suffer and hatred is bred,

I doubt they will stop until all sides are dead.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Brother Fights Brother (Tanka)

Brother fights brother
Will expressed through violence
So death marches on
All for ideology
Refusing to live on peace
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

D-Day (Acrostic)

Dying on a beach named Omaha

Determined to win no matter the cost

All for the restoration of Europe’s freedom

Yellow ribbons do not do them justice

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Yet Another Name

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 ~~

 

Judge, Jury, Executioner

Judge, jury, executioner,

We decide the fate of the smallest of lives,

Crickets, mice, the common house fly, the family pet

Playing god with those we deem less significant.

Who handed us the gavel?

Who gave us the plunger of the lethal injection?

Who gave us the power to determine when a life will end?

We dole out this punishment with little thought

All because we call them pests

Or we don’t want them to needlessly suffer,

But this is not our role in this world.

Shouldn’t we allow them to transition in their own time?

We all have a time,

You, me, the cricket, them mouse, the house fly, the family pet,

One that will bring the end with or without intervention,

Though not determined by our hands.

…The sanctity of life.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

To Those Gone Without A Trace

To those gone without a trace,

What were your last thoughts?

What did you see?

What did you here?

To the  Atheists, did you find God?

To the Christians, did you ask Christ to save you?

To the Muslims, did Allah forgive you your sins?

This is not an indictment,

I would asked for all of this and so much more.

Did you feel abandoned?

Did your life flash before your eyes?

Did you see the faces of loved ones?

Did you hear the laughter of your children?

Surely I would have felt all of these things.

These questions bring me to tears.

I don’t know what I would think as I sat helpless,

And in the end would it really matter

In the face of impending doom?

These answers float on the wind,

And drift with the changing tides,

In places without names, undiscovered.

Know that wherever you are,

We think about you,

Hoping that your final rest is in peace.

Lost at sea.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Shipwrecked (Reverse Acrostic)

Many a trip to distant shores

Seen from deck and crows nest high

I pray my return home to Aliveri

Its port, my village, my final trip

Still far from home the wind did blow

Gale ripping sails from masthead and spar

Fierce storm did brew this wretched foe

Fear contagious proving fatally toxic

Men jumping ship as we list and creak

Hull split and torn, I choke on frigid brine

I bid you farewell with great sorrow–I’m dead

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Poetry Prompt #6 Reverse Acrostic – We Drink Because We’re Poets – Prompt Word: Shipwreck

Chill (Tanka)

Chill…Rustle of trees

Winter is fast approaching

Usher in the dead season

Like the cycle of our lives

One dies another is born

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Left For Dead (Sonnet)

Flayed like road kill quivering

Unseen and left for dead

On black, cold asphalt shivering

A crack upside the head

From gaping wounds bleeding

A gasp for one last breath

The feel of life receding

Assured most certain death

The black it grows darker still

No longer knowing this place

Sounds they fade and silence fills

The whole of dying minds space

In an instant the sun shines bright

As gentle hands draw me to the light

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Today – A Ghazal

O’ my love, why must I suffer this hell today.

Like so many days before, I fell today.

.

I’m trying to move on, but my heart won’t allow,

It’s afraid I’ll forget you if I quell today.

.

Your passing lives on in my blood and my bones,

Like a mystic potion I’m under it’s spell today.

.

Without you my sweet I am no longer whole,

Subsisting as nothing but a broken shell today.

.

Tonight I will drop to my knees and I’ll pray

That pain can be confined to it’s cell today.

.

Through tears in my eyes, for comfort I look.

There is no one to whom I can tell today.

.

So with a heart that is heavy Dom must wish you goodnight,

I’ll bid you adieu and farewell today.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have to say that this is the toughest poetic form that I have tried to date.  It requires a great deal of forethought to have it make sense and yet I still am not sure if I succeeded.  If you want to give a new form a try, this might be the one to put you to the test.  It certainly tested me.

.
FORM: Ghazal – (Pronunciation: “guzzle”) Originally an Arabic verse form dealing with loss and romantic love, medieval Persian poets embraced the ghazal, eventually making it their own. Consisting of syntactically and grammatically complete couplets, the form also has an intricate rhyme scheme. Each couplet ends on the same word or phrase (the radif), and is preceded by the couplet’s rhyming word (the qafia, which appears twice in the first couplet). The last couplet includes a proper name, often of the poet’s. In the Persian tradition, each couplet was of the same meter and length, and the subject matter included both erotic longing and religious belief or mysticism.