Poetry 1960s

Joseph William Gabriele


Some day and again
And things are amiss
I think of the bliss
That could have been.
And things are amiss
Some day and again
I think of the bliss
That could have been.


Thoughts, ideas, and prose;
When they come, come and going, goes.
At the oddest hour they arrive,
providing for me my meager writing drive.
Often times my mind is an empty barrel,
At others, so crowded, I cannot think;
One would hardly guess that I was in the pink.
“You are young and healthy” she spoke.
Naming totally my assets for which I feel
I’m broke.


I see not good, I feel not well.
What part in me, thinks everything is swell?
I feel not well, I see not good,
I damn the wall twixt us that was not
understood.
My mind cannot find the reason why,
mines only to try and cry.
To try and try, to be not, nor to offend,
Else my next relationship I will find
Ended, ended.
Oh! To God I pray to give me hope
That in my passings, these awful
Differences can be transcended.


Who darest thus in ludicrous lust?
In whose smile there, but for me not a prayer.
In her gaze, what?
Perhaps in her heart for me a spot?
Angels in her laugh so sing,
for me bells to ring.
A woman, one of many to be sure;
Dismiss her being, an impossible censure.
Two feet in flight, a heart swelling
with all its might,
a glance unreturned, a smile met by stone,
a greeting frozen,
a seedlings death to bemoan.


I’m blind, I cannot see the future
or what my place in it will be.
The seeds to sow it are in my hands,
Oh! Give me the grace to furrow them
into fertile lands.
To rise above the awful din and not
Bemoan what might have been.
To have on a plate the chance to create,
Make mistakes and find a mate.
To have one say “There you are,
be a star, be great.


Walk on walk on failure’s child.
The punishment of success is mild, mild.
Of love and glory angels sing,
is success money to mind bring,
hindered by intelligence not.
Why then, against yourself this devious plot?
With the time of reasoning past
and your eyes reclined at half-mast;
in sleep’s stead, this gnawing inside,
damn you meaning of life
where do you hide?












Copyright © 2008 Joseph W. Gabriele. All rights reserved.
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