Ellie belfiglio

When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write…

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With a little twist and turn ( actually a lot), I am writing about this conversation that truly happened when I was in Elementary School (I don’t remember what grade) between my teacher and myself. It was decades ago so I had to use my imagination to bring it back to life. The part (IT DEPENDS) is as it was. I tried to have a little fun with it. Here it is…


Never understood

Why my teacher would

Laughed when I said, “It depends,”

To her question: “What is more?

Two plus two or three plus four?”

Anytime she asked,

My friends laughed out loud!

My answer was always, “It depends”!

She would angrily insist: “Depends on what?”

My answer: “Two apples and two dirty socks

Is less than three candies plus four shiny rocks.

But three frowns plus two tears

Is less than two smiles plus two parents.

See, teacher, it all depends!”

And now you see-

Why today to my dismay

I can’t remember which is more,

Two plus two or three plus four!!!



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Is the day done and night near?

Time to close my eyes so dreams appear!

How I wish to hold my teddy bear;

But it’s my thought that I keep and share!


The beauty is always there.

But to me it’s so unknown and rare.

My love comes from my every touch;

For I know well loneliness and such…

People say I’m just more than a woman.

I give, never receive, there is a ban.

My life is the water that ooze;

A life not simply worth living for misuse.

I truly want one day to walk away;

As if never born in this life of gray.

Oh, God, what will be if I’m gone…

Never wake up again, fly out to none!!!!



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Dimly lightening, flickering briefly in sky

Like the thoughts that touch consciousness as spy.


Softly thunder rumbling in the distance;

Bringing closer the clouds to dance



On the window tapping light rain.

insistent to announce thunder’s arrival again



Brighter the lightening, louder the sound.

Rain is now silvery ribbons on glass does pound.


Then… The fewer the flashes, further the sound;

The fainter the drum roll beat on the ground.



The storm overwhelming everything near.

Else… Here, then moving to steer.

Leaving stillness behind out of fear;

Along with the soft Summer rain,




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Is it day light or night’s regret?

 I see an endless sunset,

When it is windy and birds fly;

And their existence we deny;

And when you hear some far sound-

From a foreign ground-

unsteady and suspicious,

like the howling of wind, so vicious.

A word must be said

That how much I am afraid

Of wanting for my heart

To couple with moon, never be apart.

Oh, there is nothing in my head

except the storm of color red.

And my ambiguous look

Like an untruthful word in a book

Is darkened like night;

And dawn cast with fright.


I think of moon;

And of words in a poem I’ll write soon.

I think of a stream;

And the earth’s fear of it’s dream;

And of the rich smell in the shade;

And the legend of food called bread;

And of the innocence of a child’s play;

And the longest highway,

Where no perfume can be found;

And the bitter awakening, not profound.

I think of astonishment after gleam;

And of empty highway in my dream;

And the moon without light;

And the earth with all its delight!


Bravery is gone from my page

Like the old soldiers, once they had rage.

Love is lonely, you know why?

I can see no one close by!

Dreams are lost in a winding maze;

In the pathway with many doors and haze!

The doors all are shut.

Always, always the haze is about!


I think of a home had keys

To coziness and breeze,

Where the lights are always on;

And it has fearless nights of fun!

I think of sunset;

And of stormy wind makes me upset;

And of suspicious light-

Which crawls in dark with spite.


Work, work, work…

without relief,

Without having any belief,

Or seeing the enemy has made a nest;

whose abuse is your rest.

It treats you as you’re pen or its ink-

And leaves you no choice but to sink-

Into your coffee’s wave-

Like a boat caught in a storm’s rave;

And in the horizon high-

Only thick cigarette smoke seen by eye;

And some unreadable line-

Of work, work, work of mine!


A word must be said…

A word must be said…

At dawn, there is a moment which stands-

Like the feeling of maturity that commands.

It’s a sudden mixture of something unknown,

When the heart doesn’t want to be alone.

It wants to surrounded to dread;

And it wants to destroy or evade;

And it wants me to say,

No, no, no to dismay!

Let me go, go, go…

A word must be said though;

In the endless sunset of woe-

Let me go, go, go…