Stench Of Urine

Stench of urine,

Cardboard shacks,

Shopping carts,

Tattered clothes,

Hand-me-downs from the dumpster I suppose.

 

Rummaging through waste baskets,

Feasting on tainted food scraps,

Hiding in the shadows,

Sleeping on steam grates,

Misused,

Abused,

Something less than human.

 

Left for dead in the cold,

Filth in the form of flesh and blood,

But have you ever looked into their eyes,

Heard their hearts beat,

Seen them cry,

Gasp for their final breath?

 

I’m sure you haven’t

As you stepped over their broken bodies,

Avoiding them like the plague,

Chuckling at their despair,

On your way to your comfortable life.

 

Can’t you take a moment to lend a hand,

A little food,

A little shelter,

A bit of cash,

Instead of treating them like lepers,

Feeding off teets of the man..

 

You don’t know them,

You don’t know their stories,

Their hardships,

Their tragedies,

But you should…

They are our brothers and sister after all.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

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Separation Pains My Heart (Sonnet)

Separation pains my heart, that’s yours,

So long we’ve been together, I dread us part.

Loneliness invades with the latching door,

For fear that your love with you departs.

 

Foolish I know are these thoughts of you leaving,

Kindred souls we’ve become with the passage of time.

No sense does it make for my heart to be grieving,

When the love that we have has been nothing, but sublime.

 

Insecurity, but why, is the question to be pondered,

You’ve given me no reason to impart any concern.

Supposing instead that commitment might wander,

After all of these years you think I’d have learned.

 

The strength of our love has never been contested, nor ever shall it be during this life.

Nothing in this world could ever have bested, the passion that I have for you being my wife.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

In The Daylight I Sit (Sonnet)

In the daylight I sit–tis dark as night

Not void of sun as one might think.

Emotions cloud every thought and sight,

Depressions hole I claw and sink.

.

Sadness without good cause inflicts;

Caped in black to draw out life.

Pain…such pain this joyless fix

Cuts like a razor–damn bloody knife.

.

Out of the blue this Satan creeps,

Slinking slowly to fill my head.

Of little comfort is nightly sleep

At times a prayer be better dead.

.

All is not lost for this too shall pass

Though certain that this time will not be the last.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Peace, Goodwill Towards Men

Peace, goodwill towards men–

I believed this once,

A long, long time ago it seems.

I can still remember her smile,

The love of my life,

Us…hand-in-hand,

Not a care in our perfect little world.

And the kids–

Oh how they loved Christmas.

Not just the presents,

The paper, the bows,

But the time we spent together.

We were a family,

A perfect design by Hallmark.

Now she’s gone,

The years were not kind to her;

And the kids–,

Grown, families of their own–

Don’t come around much anymore.

Hell, I don’t remember the last time.

The gesture of a card would be nice

Just to let me know they cared,

That they remembered me,

But no…

It was not meant to be,

Alone I sit, stranded for the holidays.

This wasn’t how I saw my later years,

Aged, lonely,

Awaiting the ghost of Christmas past.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Prompt Word: Stranded

 Writing Prompt: Tuesday’s Thinking 17 December – By Jeremy Farmer – The Boi Poet

Another Dawn

Another dawn,

Sun breaching the adjacent apartment building.

This window open to the vibrant street below.

Oh, were I strong enough to step out,

To join the masses in the frivolity of the day,

But lo!  I am not so bold.

Day after day, Mitty-like I sit,

Alone with my thoughts

Dreaming of what could be,

What could have been,

The chivalrous me,

Rescuing damsels in distress,

Storming the castle,

Slaying the dragon,

Saving the day,

Or simply stepping foot on the sidewalk below,

Is that too much to ask?

I don’t know,

But one can dream can’t they?

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

~

Word: Mitty –  Meaning: noun: An ordinary, timid person who indulges in daydreams involving great adventures and triumphs.

~

Jem Farmer – The Boi Poet – Words at the Weekend Poetry Prompt – 7-8 September 2013

Lonely Hotel Room

Lonely hotel room,

Faded carpet,

Trust in clean sheets,.

Looking out from high above,

Cracked blacktop parking-lot,

Peeling dumpster,

Weary travelers rental cars,

I wonder why I am here.

Long-distance calls from home

Offer little respite from my angst,

“I love you’s”, across the airwaves,

Still alone with my glowing companion,

Unable to sleep,

Strange bed holds no warmth.

All this, another spin on the wheel,

All this for sustenance,

I wonder at what cost.

Strain on spouse,

Toll on children,

One parent household,

Each trip will be the last.

Until the next time,

Addicted to the golden ring.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Today – A Ghazal

O’ my love, why must I suffer this hell today.

Like so many days before, I fell today.

.

I’m trying to move on, but my heart won’t allow,

It’s afraid I’ll forget you if I quell today.

.

Your passing lives on in my blood and my bones,

Like a mystic potion I’m under it’s spell today.

.

Without you my sweet I am no longer whole,

Subsisting as nothing but a broken shell today.

.

Tonight I will drop to my knees and I’ll pray

That pain can be confined to it’s cell today.

.

Through tears in my eyes, for comfort I look.

There is no one to whom I can tell today.

.

So with a heart that is heavy Dom must wish you goodnight,

I’ll bid you adieu and farewell today.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have to say that this is the toughest poetic form that I have tried to date.  It requires a great deal of forethought to have it make sense and yet I still am not sure if I succeeded.  If you want to give a new form a try, this might be the one to put you to the test.  It certainly tested me.

.
FORM: Ghazal – (Pronunciation: “guzzle”) Originally an Arabic verse form dealing with loss and romantic love, medieval Persian poets embraced the ghazal, eventually making it their own. Consisting of syntactically and grammatically complete couplets, the form also has an intricate rhyme scheme. Each couplet ends on the same word or phrase (the radif), and is preceded by the couplet’s rhyming word (the qafia, which appears twice in the first couplet). The last couplet includes a proper name, often of the poet’s. In the Persian tradition, each couplet was of the same meter and length, and the subject matter included both erotic longing and religious belief or mysticism.

Scarred

Scars, fresh raised and red

Born of stainless razors edge

Bleed…to make me feel

Numb, I do not understand

What flawed design produced me

Sleeves long– Hide the shame

Attempts for naught this hollow fill

Am I all alone

Left to cut and poke and prod

To wake up the walking dead

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Scavenging

Scavenging,

Through trash bins,

Rubbish heaps,

Loitering beyond alley doors,

Waiting for “the good stuff”.

Jagged nails,

Through fingerless gloves,

Sort through treasures,

Maybe a doughnut,

Scrap of bread,

Half eaten burger,

A meal fit for a king.

Seen on steam grate mattresses,

Fetal curl for warmth;

Passersby arc wide birth

To avoid their touch.

Rain draws trash bag slickers,

Doorways, cardboard,

Rags for umbrellas,

Taxi’s thrown sludge sprays the invisible

With cities dirt and grim.

Will they be here tomorrow?

Will anyone notice their absence?

As their shopping cart sits idle

Ravaged by fellow unseen.

~

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~