We Are Still At War

We are still at war

Though it is invisible

To the naked eye

The media doesn’t care

Only the families do

Far away from home

Tears are shed–

With each phone call

Praying for good news

Or maybe no news at all.

They are alone with their fears


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


On This Somber Day

On this somber day

Where allied blood once ran free;

I am reflective.

Wondering…what it was like

Staring down death and bullet.

Alone, but not so,

Brothers shoulder to shoulder

On that distant shore.

Seventy years on it lives

In those few that still remain.

You can see their pride,

You can see their welling tears

As if yesterday.

Thinking about friends they’d lost

As the price for our freedom.

Remember their dead.

Many scarcely got to live;

Few had said goodbye,

None had regretted the cause

That changed world history.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Forgotten Warriors

Rock covered armored vehicle
Children and adult villages pelt
the vehicles with rocks as they pass

By D. R. DiFrancesco

I don’t pretend to know the feelings of war,

I’ve never served,

Instead living the joy and sorrow,

Loneliness and homesickness through my son.


Here I sit in my easy chair,

TV tuned to CNN,

Disgusted that there is no coverage,

Do they even remember we are at war?


I remember every waking hour of the day,

Passing my sons empty room,

Left as a constant reminder that he’s far from home,

Living in squalor, among Camel Spiders and Taliban.


He wrote,

Finally I realize…

Everything here wants to kill us,

My eyes welled up with tears.


He’s his own man now,

No longer can his mother and I protect him,

Our trust must be placed in his training,

Relying on his bravery and strength.


This makes it no easier,

Weeks pass with no word,

Sadness and worry are all consuming,

Struggling to maintain sanity.


Then a brief call or message online,

All is well, could you send me a few things,

I need new boots, snacks, vitamins,

My God its hot here.


For just a few moments there is happiness,

Content that for now he is safe,

Then he is gone again,

No word for weeks.


Sitting in my easy chair,

Still no coverage on TV,

Certain that they have forgotten.

Praying for the next call.


Don’t worry,

I’m safe and doing well.




Independence Day, A Day to Remember – (A Poem)

The smell of powder,

Clouds of smoke sting the eyes,

Tearing, trying to see beyond the fence line,

Nauseating odor of sulfur offends the senses.


Blood curdling screams!

Pierce the sound of canon fire,

Tattered flags wave wearily above the shouts,

The cocking of flint locks magnified by thousands,


Deafening explosions,

The buzz of lead fills the air,

Surreal as comrades fall,

The sting of the cold,

Numbs as we move forward.

Snow covered fields no longer virgin,

Crimson corrupts the purity,

Flowing like rivers from the lifeless,

Moans echo through the trees.

Corpses, limbs, appendages litter the plain,

The stench of death!


Time to reload,

Focus or die,

No time for regrets,

This is a cause far greater than ourselves,

Fire! the General’s call

Sabre raised overhead as the stallion rears

He is gone!

His station irrelevant,

War plays no favorites,

Blood flowing warm and freezing,

Staining the newly fallen snow.

We must carry on,

No time to mourn,

Remember why we are here.

Remember how we got to this place.

History, our history,



For the birth of a nation!


Born on the Forth of July!