New Years (Acrostic)

Now this year, it comes to a close

Ending on the wings of The Dove.

What lies ahead, no one knows,  but

Yahweh in heaven above.

Each resolution we swear to uphold

And honor what Christmas time brings.

Returning as quickly to ourselves of old,

In our lust for material things..


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Another Year

Another year, add one more to the count.

Another tick mark on the chalkboard.

Another chance to get it right.

Another promise to myself to change.

Another negative thing I will give up.

Another positive thing I will nurture.

Another countdown to another list.

Another resolution that I didn’t complete.

Another year of self-flagellation for failures.


And for what,

So we can feel bad about ourselves,

So we can blame ourselves for our misgivings,

So we can complain of being wronged,

So we can blame others for our failures,

So we can make another list,

So we can fill it with resolutions,

So we can obsess about the negative,

So we can minimize the positive,

So we can set ourselves up to achieve more of the same.

Why do we not love who we are,

Work on changing the things we can change

Take responsibility for ourselves without pressure or demand

Strive to realize our dreams every day

Instead of tormenting ourselves

–Every first of January.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Promises Break

Promises break like straw under foot,

Brittle, bending, crumbling under slightest weight,

No longer bound to man’s word.

Instead they are simply words of convenience,

Placating the concerned,

Enveloping those amongst the unconvinced.

Like sheep are these believers,

Led about by their staff laden necks,

Given sustenance just to hush their words.

No longer is honor a cornerstone,

A pillar of trust, as valued as a kings ransom,

Degraded, they are nothing but syllables, hollow and meaningless.

Yes, they may be voiced with a smile,

A handshake if the orator is so moved,

Yet sadly these have become standard props for their theatrics.

When did this happen,

When did the worth of a man become worthless,

When did men cower to pretense?

Maybe always, maybe of recent past, maybe today,

Knowing they are played like the strings of a mandolin,

But unable to reconcile their buffoonery.

One day the blinders may be lifted from impaired eyes,

Revealing the wolf cloaked in statesmen’s fashion,

Only then might shame resurrect us.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~