Knowing Right And Wrong (Tanka)

Knowing right and wrong

We blame it on upbringing

Wooden switch draws blood

He’s just a child of four

How terrible could he be

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Strained Parental Love (Tanka)

Strained parental love
Clashing personalities
Mother and daughter
One lashing out in anger
Are they just too much alike
.
~~Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Little Thought Do We Give (Acrostic)

Little thought do we give at time of conception,

Isolated in our cocoon of lust and love.

Feeling as one, our sensual obsession,

Embraced in our skins like hand in a glove.

Another’s life we send on its wondrous journey,

No consideration given to responsibility taken.

Despite their affect on our futures, so blurry,

Doned in false wisdom we vow to ne’er be shaken.

Even in this arrogance the question must arise,

After time to ponder has settled our voice.

The seriousness of our action lay right before our eyes,

Having created something of beauty with or without choice.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

A Beautiful Smile

A beautiful smile, a tender face like your mothers,

A generous heart, we should not compare to the others.

You are not them, you are you, wonderous you,

Be proud of that, forever and ever remain true.

Though mistakes will be made my youngest one…

Know in your soul that you are the light of my day, my morning sun.

Judged more harshly than your sister or brother,

This was not my intention, I would never hope for another.

You are perfectly perfect just the way you are,

Bright as the celestial comet or a shooting star.

In your own way, you bring joy to me with every passing day,

Your laugh, sense of humor, funny faces, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Each of you was born into this world with a gift,

Though oftentimes elusive when ensconced in siblings rift.

This is how it always is and how it has always been,

Its just how humans are, it has never been a sin.

Some are born with smart of book, others with common sense,

Some are gilded with a gift of the arts, while some remain on the fence.

This my sweet–is not a defect or a flaw instilled at birth,

Nor a judgement of your character, or a measure of your worth.

For you are worth the world to me, in all you are with your spirit free,

As I watch you mature and grow to become who you will be.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Out of Fear

Worshiped out of fear,

Afraid of divine retribution.

One which allowed murderers,

One which allowed adulterers,

With an apology,

To be King.

You toyed with creation,

Becoming angry as a child

Throwing tantrums

When deprived of your will.

Does death and destruction,

To all but the chosen

Sound reasonable and sane?

With Lucifer as a playmate perhaps.

“Here take my servant,

Do what you will with him,

But do not touch.”

Inflicted with relentless torment,

Sores, anxiety, persecution,

Fear of death,

The game is permitted to continue,

All with your blessing,

To see if he can be broken.

Is this how mercy is shown,

Torturing those that love you?

Finding sport in war and death

Both are waged eternally,

Some with your blessing

Some without,

Either way, surely with a smile.

Sending those in your image to their end

As pawns for your amusement,

This seems to be your sadistic way.

As a final act of brutality,

You offered your son up to despots,

Torturing and degrading him until death,

All to uphold your way of life

And save the monsters which you created.

Would a kind and merciful parent do this to his child,

Instilling them with fear,

Instead of promoting goodness and love?

This question must be answered!

Faith alone does not absolve you of responsibility

For the adulterated state of our being.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

In Memorial

She is gone now,

Weeks have passed,

Shock is no more.

Resigned to the fact that we won’t see her again,

We won’t share coffee around the kitchen table,

Won’t share meals at the holidays,

Won’t see the warm smile,

Won’t see the pride in her eyes at our little accomplishments.

Grandmothers are someone taken for granted,

They were always there,

From our beginning,

Naively we think that they will never leave.

Still something deep in our hearts knows  its a lie,

We lie to ourselves because its easier than facing the truth.

The status quo easier to take than the pain,

But nothing can stay the same.

Parents become Grandparents,

Children, parents,

The eternal cycle repeats like a palindrome.

I don’t pretend to know what lay beyond this fragile life,

We pray to, hope for, obsess about an unseen God,

Holding steadfast to our faith,

Grasping with clenched fists to the fabric of what’s left of our existence,

Knowing that in time, we to, will meet our maker,

Whomever we conceive our maker to be.

In this, our soul finds consolation,

Finding peace in our belief in the unknowable,

Finding relief in the belief that this world is just the beginning,

That eternal life is not a myth,

But instead a promise of something greater,

Something greater than anything created in our mortal imaginations.

In this hope,

We find comfort.

In this hope,

We find peace.

As we pay our final respects,

In this hope,

You will not be forgotten.

Instead,

In this hope of heaven,

We say goodbye.

Fatherhood

What to do

None of this comes naturally

Watching, waiting, trying to define our place

Feeling silly because we are utterly clueless

The discomfort, yours is ours

It”s impossible for us to  know what it feels like

It isn’t in our make up

Your sickness comes, but passes quickly

Still we can’t fully understand it

In return, sympathy is all we have to offer

This act comes so freely to you

Like a character in a stage show

You were born into it

While we feel like outsiders

But yet we wouldn’t have it any other way

Each step is a new adventure to us

We anticipate your homecoming

Since we were there at the start

Your blood is our blood

You are part of us just as we are part of you

A bond that nothing can ever break

We will grow together

Learning as we go

You are ours

Your mother the master

We, the apprentice

Yet this is how it is meant to be

This is how it has always been

Imperfect

Stressful

Rewarding

Nothing can change our feelings for you

Fatherhood.