To Arise Before Sun-up

To arise before sun-up,

A ritual held for many a year.

Watching the sun breach the horizon and erupt,

One that many find most queer.

~

The silence treasured,

As the bird snores its song.

The days birth measured,

As its hours plod along.

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Brewing coffee ever so lightly fills the air,

From the window perch dawns light grows.

Soundlessly showing the utmost care,

Slumber reigns majestic as solitude shows.

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Morning…oh blessed morning what have you to say?

Good morning perhaps as it always has done.

There cannot, must not be any other way,

Than to start the day anew as it has always begun.

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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco —

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Poetry Prompt: We Drink Because We’re Poets – Poetry Prompt #8 – Morning

A Dot On The Map

A dot on the map,

Another town with an odd name,

A place people pass through,

Ignored on their way somewhere else.

This was years ago;

O’ the town is still there,

But gone is its charm.

Gone are the things I loved most about it,

Gone are the wonderful pines

Standing tall next to Beal’s Hardware Store.

Gone is the pure cedar creek,

Gone are the open spaces,

Gone are the mom and pop stores dotting Main Street,

Gone are quaint family owned restaurants,

Gone is Porcellini’s Farm Market and Nursery,

Gone is Armand’s Auto Body,

Gone is Duffy’s Yacht Bar,

Gone is the wildlife preserve,

Gone are the wetlands,

Gone is the egret,

Gone are the scenic views unless you can afford them,

Gone are the commercial fishermen and clammers,

Their way of life is dying.

The pines have been bulldozed for Walmart,

Beal’s shuttered because they couldn’t compete with Home Depot,

Porcellini’s wilted and blew away

Armand passed and no one wanted to take up his fight

Duffy’s dried up under the pressure of Applebee’s,

A beautiful way of life was strangled and buried,

Caving in under the weight of corporations.

They don’t care about us…profits are their only friend.

We see it happen everyday,

In small towns all across America.

Towns founded on long time local businesses

Bankrupt because they can’t compete.

Local people forced to settle for less and pay more.

Some say, “If they don’t come here they will just go somewhere else”.

“What about the jobs?”

What about them?

Maybe you would have to commute to work,

But at least our town would still be–our town,

A place we would be proud to call home.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

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Poetry Prompt #2 –  The Places We Are  by We Drink Because We’re Poets