Tag Archives: story

Caligula Though Tyrant He Be

Caligula though tyrant he be, is not so unlike my chaotic mind,

Burned to the ground like Nero’s Rome, a cure oh so difficult to find.

Cries to the almighty gods, heaven sent go unanswered,

Eating at my senses and sanity like a cancer.

Why is it that the clarity of thought so often goes awry

When focus eludes me no matter how I try.

Is this a curse–a symptom of a troubled body and soul,

I know not, still it leaves me feeling less than whole.

Most fortunate to me is that it never long lasts,

A matter of hours or days is all it takes to pass.

Yet this is of no less a concern and satisfies me little,

Stunting my spirit like knife to wood wittle.

Alone I am not of this I am certain,

As this diatribe ends and I bring down the curtain.

Praying that soon this too will vanish,

Returning to me clarity from whence it was banished.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Events, Cohabitors of Life’s Stage

Events, cohabitors of life’s stage,

Script our actions like the strings of the puppeteer.

We are helpless, dribbling fools

In the glaring light of potential tragedy.

With nary a warning, change can be thrust upon us,

Rendering us helpless like children.

How awful the feeling,

Being strangled by crises uninvited, we succumb.

What does the universe want from us,

Constantly testing our resolve,

Raining on our parade ‘til we drown;

Then as if a cruel joke, tragedy is replaced by joy,

Happiness diluting stress.

Not that we ever hoped for the worst,

But that it had never transpired at all.

In retrospect doesn’t this all go toward our maturation;

Making us whole, defining who we are

And who we will become.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Blustery Emotions (Sonnet)

Blustery emotions we never quite reveal,.

Held closely to the breast, we keep hollow charade

In clutching to desire, allowing us to feel

Passion for our lives behind handsome painted facade.

What pray tell do these falsehoods promise portend,

But misery and suffering at their wretched feeble hand.

Lies behind a masquerade, this be all that it sends

As it passes through the narrow, the hourglass sand.

To whom doth this harm, dishonesty deceive,

None other than ourselves with a lifetime of regret.

Whilst in our final hour, its our soul that we grieve,

Taken to the grave, eternity ne’er forgets.

Would truth not have been wiser, to others and ourselves,

For in the end lies get washed away like watercolors–not pastels.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Torrents of Rain

Torrents of rain,

Devastating floods,

Blinding snows,

Frigid cold,

Sweltering heat,

Drought,

Wildfires,

Hurricanes smashing lives,

El Ninõ,

El Ninã,

The perfect storm,

Take responsibility for ourselves,

Take responsibility for our actions,

Unless it interferes with capitalism,

Then responsibility goes out the window.

Global warming…

Nonsense!

Liberal scientists–a gauntlet to progress

Or could we really be destroying the planet.

Recklessly laying waste to mother earth,

All for the almighty dollar.

What will we leave as our legacy?

A world spiraling out of control,

Cold, hot, bleak, devastated,

Because of our denial,

Because of our arrogance,

Chaos for the next generation,

And the ones that follow them.

Our responsibility is not arbitrary,

It is our duty,

We owe it to the future,

To do what is right,

Before its too late.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Who Was I Before I Was Me

Who was I before I was me?

I see myself out-of-body,

Living events not of my time.

I am watching myself from behind

A small boy staring at a black and white TV, all alone.

President Kennedy has been pronounced dead,

I have seen this vision for as long as I can remember,

Seven months before my birth.

Deja-vu…maybe,

It seems so real–it seems like yesterday.

Perhaps a figment of my imagination

Or perhaps a fragment of a past life;

A crossover from another time..

There is so much I don’t understand,

So much that can’t be disproven with science

I sense that I am far older than my calendar years

Though how much I do not know.

Hence my neverending question persists…

Who I was before I was me?

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Does She Dream–She Dreams No More (Sonnet)

Does she dream–she dreams no more,

Though mother grieves, her spirits flown.

Tears are shed in torrents, stain upon the floor,

In her heart of hearts she has most surely known.

.

Knowledge diminishes not a mother’s sorrow,

Science cold, offers no sympathetic relief.

Knowing there will be no more tomorrows,

Does little to quench her wrenching grief.

.

Its time she needs to weep and mourn,

A daughter lost to procedure routine.

To unite and mend a family torn,

By results unexpected, gross and obscene.

.

Her passing a reminder of the commonplace, still serious,

And the pain no less painful turns a family delirious.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

A New Day, A New Light Dawns

A new day, a new light dawns,

No more do the darkest clouds mask my life,

Shrouding me in gloom so marshland thick.

Crying out to be saved ushered no hand,

Leaving me to crawl, bloodied and battered from my despicable pit.

No hope nor blame was there outside of self–

Though not for lack of trying.

How easy it was to shine blame on another,

Justifying this rancid condition through mirrored fault.

Oh how misplaced and misguided were my intentions!

I need look no further than my reflection to find the culprit,

The thief that steals away at the slightest hint of uplifted spirit.

For now he has been banished back to his cell,

‘Til next his jailer be tricked into releasing him.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Is Being “Father” Enough

Is being “Father” enough?

Looking into the face of the son, I’m not sure who I see;

Some of me, some of his mother,

But these are just physical traits.

He has lived a life far different from my own,

Seen and done things that I have never seen or done

Lived the horrors of war,

Witnessed the worst of mankind,

Traveled through the world with a bullseye on his back.

How could this not demand change,

A change that I will never understand?

Me…I’ve sat in my easy chair;

Warm, dry, safe,

Worrying for his safety,

Praying for him to come home.

I read the ticker at the bottom of the screen

Announcing without emotion those that would not return;

Thankful for the call that never came.

Is being “Father” enough?

I cannot alter what was,

Cannot erase what he has seen,

Cannot live his life.

We seem to have less in common these days,

Though I am certain that this is more my problem than his.

Is being “Father” enough?

I suppose that it will have to be.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

This Modern Day (Sonnet)

This modern day doth promote looseness of lips

Easily speaking with nary a thought,

Then later in regret we come to grips

With what is proper as we had been taught.

A click of send with no recall,

Forever unleashed upon our world,

Try as we might we can never stall

The insults and hurt that we have hurled.

Nay, neither you nor I are immune;

We’re feeble and frail in our judgement moral.

Apologizing and vowing a different tune,

We beg forgiveness both written and oral.

Would it not have been best to have bitten our tongue

Forgoing the backlash that has now begun.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Brothers and Sisters

Brothers and sisters
Born of flesh, bone and spirit
Are we not the same
Like those that came before us
We will return to the earth
Leaving our struggle
For what comes after this dance
To those that follow
…The never ending cycle
.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~