A Dream Walk

Do I dare walk this twisted mile

Beneath the sway of the weeping willow canopy.

An aire of pecan and clover

Floats on a warm moist wind,

Hypnotizing my senses.

Lured like steel to magnet

I saunter on my dream swept way.

Grassy fields cropped to a dandy’s perfection,

Paint a canvas of green

Dimpled with the smiling faces of daisies.

In the distance,

The silhouette of a weary plow horse

Pinches the emerald horizon,

As it grazes to reinvigorate.

With each yard strode,

A cloud of dust, summoned by my wake

Climbs to the heavens,

Whisked skyward by the tepid breeze.

Stricken by the silence,

Only the swirling song of  Morning Doves for company,

I reminisce of a time before my time.

What simplicity in this wanton beauty,

If only this were home.

 ~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Endless Possibilities – A Haiku

Image Credit: thinkpositive30.cim

Image Credit: thinkpositive30.cim

Out of simple thoughts

Come the greatest inventions

Don’t dismiss your dreams

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

The Fallen – A Tanka

Hands used to hard work

By night, lay calloused and broke

Like a fallen oak

Brought to it’s knees by axemen

Split and forgotten

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Fall of the Titans – A Haiku

Image Credit: 123rf.com

Image Credit: 123rf.com

The titans will fall

When the populous wakes up

Breaking the deadlock

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Shadow Figures – A Dark Tanka

Image Credit: squidoo.com

Image Credit: squidoo.com

A mist clouds the room

Shadow figures menace me

Overwhelmed by dread

Covers clutched over my head

I pray for intercession

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

With Wisdom Comes Ignorance – A Tanka

I’ve looked within me

Trying to understand life

Yet still it eludes

Wisdom has not come with age

I know less each passing day

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Unwelcome To Our Shores

Burqa, Dashiki, headscarf, turban,

Clothing nor traditions should fear instill.

Forgetting we are children of the melting pot,

Sprawling roots of Sicily, Belfast, Juarez, Berlin,

Many smaller port-of-call,

Spat on by bigots,

Held in contempt.

Amnesia plagued memory lost their father’s land,

Nothing has been learned o’er these many years,

Only the quarry has changed,

The slurs, the stares, the vindictive wit,

Disparate but analogous,

Yet none-the-less degrading.

Unwelcoming the huddled masses with open arms,

Seeing terror in every foreign face,

Like fools believing the rhetoric,

Stereotyping and profiling,

Demonizing difference.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Life of Lessons

Image Credit: esrc.ac.uk

Image Credit: esrc.ac.uk

Influenced by birth

Life determines points-of-view

Like watching a film

Sometimes a panorama

Other times a flawed close up

~

A Tanka

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Hell’s Minion – A Dark Poem

Image Credit: goodreads.com

Image Credit: goodreads.com

A mist lay o’er the old town square,

As candles flicker in cottage eyes,

To venture out, no one may dare,

Emboldened fool will surely die.

~

In darkened night the moon lay black,

Unearthly pitch to ward off man,

Fear for those who’ve not come back,

Fell prey to Satan’s ghastly plan.

~

Yon forest breaths the caw of crows,

Hoot Owls cry echoes resound,

In what direction no one knows,

From high above the mossy ground.

~

What Hell bestowed on sky and earth,

In shrill and curdling scream,

Instilled by evils wretched birth,

Unfurled in nightmarish dream.

~

The butcher lay to weed us out,

His sickle bathed in blood and spoils,

Gullet cut, no voice to shout,

Easy prey…Nay! sweatless toil.

~

Demon cloaked in onyx murk,

Ne’er seen with mortal’s naked view,

O’ terror, we shan’t let caution shirk,

Vigilant we must all struggle through.

.~

Pray to God the sun will rise,

Beseech the villain back to Hell,

Look upon Heaven to flay disguise,

Release from prison where we dwell.

~

Still sun will set and night will grow,

No closer to trapping the horrid beast,

In faces of strangers and kin we know,

Who next be the blood bathed gory feast.

~

A tap at the door…whom by God could it be,

Overwhelmed with the play of the mind,

Ever slow did I open through pitch could not see,

Peeking head ‘round the door from behind.

~

Twas it wind, or rain, mayhaps a stone at it threw,

I presumed was a knock at the door,

Mustered courage did I gather to do what I must do,

As I shuffled myself to the porch.

~

An icy chill did rise, up the length of my spine,

As the door slammed behind me with haste,

Extinguishing candles, immersing me blind,

Backing up in my steps I did trace.

~

My next to last step to my knees did I fall,

At the boots of a figure in black,

Turning ‘round, sure to face my funeral pall,

To the side of my head he did crack.

~

Taste of blood on my lips, as the iron from a fire,

Blurred vision as I’m yanked by my hair,

To my feet I was dragged to the square of the shire,

Say a word, nay I wouldn’t have dared.

~

In silence, with strength this devil held tight,

Pray I did, for my soul to please save,

As courage I gathered with all of my might,

I begged for my death to be staved.

~

With sickle in hand I knew time was through,

Pay the piper for sins of my youth,

Upright and firm, though in pain it was true,

In death sins be hidden from truth.

~

Blade razor sharp from my neck blood did fall,

Crimson rivers down my chest it did spill,

A stroke from the edge warm and tired was all,

Up to God I commit all my will.

~

When daybreak did come to reveal gruesome site,

To Hell where the demon had fled,

Nary trace did he leave from his pitch darkened flight,

Except for the shire dwellers head.

~

A century on, Satan’s minion ne’er captured,

Legend passed down through third generations,

Unsettled and fearful still awaiting the rapture,

Asking God for consoling libations.

~~~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

To Be A Child Again

Image Credit: fastcompany.com

Image Credit: fastcompany.com

Do you ever reminisce about your childhood?

Rockem-Sockem Robots, Spirograph, Lincoln Logs,

Candy cigarettes, wax lips, pixie sticks,

Banana seats on bikes, slick tires and sissy bars,

Bell bottoms, Converse, crew cuts,

Bouffants, Brill Cream, electric rollers,

Station wagons, record players, eight tracks,

No seat belts, no car seats, laying on the rear deck

to see out the back window,

Sneaking your parents smokes

And maybe their booze,

Just for fun,

Never worrying for our safety.

Do you ever reminisce about your childhood?

I do.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~