The End Is No End

The end is no end.

Throughout life we sense the past,

A time before our time,

We call it deja vu.

We’ve been here,

We’ve met before,

But we cannot place when or where.

Is this just a sense

Or a glimpse into a time before our time.

Could we not be going round-and-round,

Traveling time until we get it right,

Coming back and back

Until we perfect our journey?

Perhaps God requires us to earn our right

To join him in Heaven,

Learning over the centuries and lifetimes

The things only time can teach.

We are flawed creatures,

Attracted to sin,

Given to the allure of its pleasures.

Like children, we must learn our lessons

Under the tutelage of God,

Before we can be admitted into His

Kingdom of Heaven.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Wasted on the young

I know because I was them once

Stubborn, invincible, I would live forever

Death seemed so far off

On the far side of halfway I want to share my lessons

Maybe this time someone will listen, then again why should this time be different


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Don’t You Ever Learn (Epistle)

WDBWP Monday Poetry Prompt #22: What Would You Say to You?



Don’t you ever learn

You spent our childhood always trying to please others

But where did that get you

What about pleasing us

What about it


Our teen years weren’t much different

Still trying to please the same people

Ignoring what we wanted

You acted like some kind of martyr

I don’t remember anyone asking for it


We had things we wanted to do

Sports, career, dreams that should have been a reality

And what did we do

We didn’t follow through

We ignored our own desires


Whose fault was this

It was nobodies but ours

To blame anyone else would be a lie

We didn’t stand up for what we wanted

So shut up and deal with it


Its nice though that we finally wised up

At least a little…maybe

We didn’t turn out half bad

We got smart and realized we missed her

And did something about it before she got away for good


She’s put up with us now for over 24 years

And hasn’t killed us yet

Although we probably deserved it

A long time ago

We can be high maintenance you know


And our children

What can we say

Thank God, the stars, dumb luck that they are great kids

The greatest treasure we could have asked for

A blessing if there ever was one


I’m thankful that they didn’t turn out like us

Well–At least not entirely

They did get some of their mother’s traits

Mostly the good ones…quiet she might be listening

Really, they don’t know how lucky they are


After all is said-and-done

We should be happy with how things turned out

Family is what is important

In spite of us we are doing pretty darn well in that area

A loving wife, wonderful children and a comfortable life


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Forsaking Our Future

I wrote this poem some time ago about our governments handling of education.  I continuously hear from both sides of the aisle that in order to strengthen our nation, we need to invest in our children’s educations.  Well, I’m sure that I am not alone in voicing disgust with our elected officials.  In every budget discussion, you will hear them crying to reduce funding for public education.  I’m sorry, but you can not invest in education while cutting its funding, it does not work.  There are many, especially on the right, that would like to see public education destroyed in favor of privatization (if they had their way everything would be privatized), but myself, my parents and their parents before them as an example, all are/were products of a public education and have done quite well for themselves just as many of you probably have.  This piece is my way of voicing my frustration with our system of partisan politics using a farming analogy.


Crops lays abandoned,

Overrun with the sprawl of weeds.

The young ripe for the picking,

Left to rot in the noonday sun.

Government touts the virtue of our crops,

Pleading for us to do more,

While refusing to help cultivate.

“It’s just too expensive.”,

Saying we need to invest more,

As they chop, chop, chop,

Down the ivory halls.

Instead we placate our appetites,

Feasting on imported produce from distant shores.

Why do we not sow our own?

The seeds lay before us,

Waiting for the planting.

All the while, seasons come and go,

Leaving sun swept earth,

Arid and untended.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~