Awake Before The Sun Rises

Corn Woman’s Task by Sandi J. Ludescher

Corn Woman’s Task by Sandi J. Ludescher

Awake before the sun rises;

Bleary-eyed still resolute

No thanks are offered for her toil.

As she nudges her brood from slumber,

Calloused hands stroke the hair of her babies.

To gentle voice and loving words they wake

Casting acknowledging smiles skyward.

The aromatic scent of cornbread wafts from afar,

Inviting even at this early hour, tickling their tiny noses.

Ritual plays itself out day after day, morning after morning,

She would have it no other way.

This brood, her pride and joy is her life, her love, all that she lives for.

Every wrinkle like a path through time,

Each hair of gray that adorns her head

Are worn with pride and concern for them.

Her destiny and birthright lay before her, born for the love of her Brave…

These are her legacy.

What greater gift could a mother leave this world than her children, her culture

And Mother earth just as she found her.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Prompt: Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Picture This Monday 23 June


What Is This Thing Mystical

What is this thing mystical?

One so oft used to determine one’s worth,

To discriminate,

To determine wisdom,

To justify foolishness,

Wasted on the young,

Marking the beginning,

Anticipating the end,

Setting milestones,

Telling us when to leave,

Removing individuality,

Segregating the masses,

Coming too slowly,

Wished to slow down,

Terrible early on,

Then sweet,

Forty old of youth,

Fifty young of old,

Then the precious metal of gold.

Why the stigma?

Why the worry?

This mystic–age,

It’s no different than its predecessor,

No different than its successor,

It’s just a number,

Like any other.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompt: Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Friday’s Threesome 9 May

Quote: Forty is the old age of youth, fifty is the youth of old age – Victor Hugo


Gazing Up At The Stars

Gazing up at the stars too numerous to count,

I wonder…am I alone in this universe,

But how could I be alone in this great vastness?

How many planets are out there,

Invisible to the naked eye,

Invisible to the most powerful of human invention?

What wondrous life must surely exist

Somewhere under these uncharted atmospheres,

Somewhere beyond our mortal senses.

Only our own arrogance could blind us to the possibility,

That we are not solitary creatures.

For now, dreams of faraway places will have to suffice,

Living in my vivid imagination

Until proof can be delivered by the skeptics.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco~~


Prompt Courtesy Of: Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Tuesday Conundrum 15 April

Prompt Word: Atmospheres

The Chase Is On


Watching the Game by Carruscaux

The chase is on!

With spring comes fresh meat after the long cold winter.

Antelope, deer plentiful on the plains–sustain us;

Feeding our women and children,

Keeping us strong as we hunt and gather.

This is our way,

This is how it has always been.

We hunt, taking only what we need

Leaving thriving herds for those that may follow.

Traveling north to escape the heat of approaching summer

We thank the gods for our bounty,

Praise our ancestors for imparting their knowledge,

Blessing the earth for her plenty.

Sending the souls of our prey onward

To the great hunting ground in the sky.

This we record for future generations,

That they may respect the land

Entrusted to them by their fathers

…And their fathers before them.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompted by Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Picture This Monday 14 April

Sedentarianism O’ Vile Beast

Sedentarianism O’ vile beast

Claiming many for gluttonous feast

Aches and pains we blame on age

Are nothing more than inactivities stage

Still we deny this is of our doing

Instead we choose to settle stewing

Looking to man and brew of witches

Falling for promises of curing pitches

With blinders on we grow ever fatter

Thinking the pills will solve what matters

When simply moving would do a world of good

Just as we always knew we should

Until it’s too late the damage is done

The beast–Sedentary, his battle won

Leads to the inevitable early grave

When so easily our death we could have stave

Were it not for this lazy and slippery foe

Run–or walk while you can its time to go


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompt: Rest breeds rust – German Proverb – It’s Friday Prompt by Jeremy Farmer  at  Jeremy’s Daily Challenge

The Charm and The Grace of this Medieval Town

The Village On The Hill By Mary Stubberfield

The Village On The Hill By Mary Stubberfield
Prompt by Jeremy Farmer – Jeremy’s Daily Challenge
Picture This Monday 13 January

The charm and the grace of this medieval town,

This village on the hill from fairy tales I’ve found.

My imagination consumes me actively running wild,

I make-believe this is my world, dreaming like a child.

A coffee in the square at a quaint little cafe’,

Shopping and bartering, children at school and play.

The smell of bread baking from the house on the right,

The sound of babies crying as they go to sleep at night.

The hustle and bustle of commuters heading home,

Reuniting with loved ones who’ve spent all day alone.

A kiss on the cheek and a warm and loving embrace,

They sit down to dinner in their pleasant usual place.

Perhaps a night in or an evening on the town,

Spreading out a blanket over the cool and grassy ground.

Staring at the stars in the moonlit summer sky,

The young fall in love as shooting stars go by.

These things that I see in this village on the hill,

Are just my imagination, my mind with pleasure fill.

It sounds so charming, this town from time of old,

With beauty much more precious than diamonds or of gold.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompt by Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Picture This Monday 13 January

Blue Skies

The Land Before Time by Michael Kittell

The Land Before Time by Michael Kittell – Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Weekend Medley 4 January Writing Prompt

Blue skies,

Clouds of ivory,

Rain, fresh as a mountain spring,

Grass of emerald green

Under rainbows crown.

This land before time,

This land before man used it for his own gain;

Not for his survival, but for his profit.

What ever happened to taking only what you need,

Just what you require to live,

Not what you desired in greed.

Those that loved this land before time–

We called them savages;

Unworthy of sharing in its bounty.

They didn’t know any better,

They didn’t see the riches that lay before them.

Blind and ignorant in our eyes, they did not deserve it,

We slaughtered them taking what was never rightfully ours.

Our claims legally binding,

They had no paper, no contract, no right,

Trespassers, every one of them to the last,

We drove them to the verge of extinction

Like the buffalo and the wolf,

But who cares,

There will be another to take their place…or not,

It does not matter.

This land before time–

Abused, polluted, strip-mined, clear-cut, overbuilt,

Unappreciated, disrespected,

But isn’t that our way,

Take until there is nothing left to take

And leaving nothing but destruction in our wake.

A sad farewell to…

The land before time.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompted By Jeremy’s Daily Challenge – Weekend Medley 4 January

Peace, Goodwill Towards Men

Peace, goodwill towards men–

I believed this once,

A long, long time ago it seems.

I can still remember her smile,

The love of my life,


Not a care in our perfect little world.

And the kids–

Oh how they loved Christmas.

Not just the presents,

The paper, the bows,

But the time we spent together.

We were a family,

A perfect design by Hallmark.

Now she’s gone,

The years were not kind to her;

And the kids–,

Grown, families of their own–

Don’t come around much anymore.

Hell, I don’t remember the last time.

The gesture of a card would be nice

Just to let me know they cared,

That they remembered me,

But no…

It was not meant to be,

Alone I sit, stranded for the holidays.

This wasn’t how I saw my later years,

Aged, lonely,

Awaiting the ghost of Christmas past.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompt Word: Stranded

 Writing Prompt: Tuesday’s Thinking 17 December – By Jeremy Farmer – The Boi Poet

A Heart Thrashing…Sleepless (Sonnet)

A heart thrashing to the sound of the owls who,

Plagued with anxiety and exhaustion–the covers drawn.

Clutching and clawing at me every once in a blue,

I lie awake lock-jawed by this infernal yawning.


Sleep–sweet sleep evades this troubadours brain,

Locked in battle with evasive slumber.

Constant swordplay wearies and drains;

Praying for conscious fade to black and umber.


Tortured sleepless by jailers masochistic,

For hour upon hour seemingly without end.

Hopes of escape deemed deeply unrealistic,

No longer this life do I care to defend.


What is one to do about this self-imposed draw-and-quartering,

But take broadsword in hand for the sandmans slaughtering.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Prompt: Sleepless

Jeremy Farmer – The Boi Poet – Tuesday’s Thinking 10 December Writing Prompt