Ellie belfiglio

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

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The feeling of bitterness in cold;

Remembering the youth, the untold;

Snowy winter days with pleasure;

A warm feeling to treasure.

Adventure of making snow man was the best;

With the elation she felt in her breast.

          What was the purpose?


The ocean she swam was life.

There were peace, danger, and strife.

Feeling safe there, here insecure.

Some flowers were thorny, others pure!

          What was the purpose?


The blue water far from land,

Clear or turbid, bottom was sand.

She swam in the ocean with fish and wale.

At the time of fright, she was pale.

Gazing at the far, imaginary bank,

Everything around seemed blank.

         What was the purpose?


Then, there were beautiful flowers to change-

Her mood that had long been strange.

She smelled and touched them from heart.

A sharp torn cut her apart.

Fighting for life with all the ache.,

Holding her head up not to break!

          What was the purpose?


It was life, her life in gloom,

The ocean she swam was her room.

The perfume of flowers in old age-

Makes her to suffer and rage.

The weight of life is no breeze.

Winter or summer is hard to seize.

         What was the purpose?


After all was gone and done,

She thought to herself while spun:

          “What was the purpose?”






Damaged by calamity, leaving your land,

A vivid flower prospers after you on the sand.

The purest and brightest air in the room,

Changes to an unbearable, rotten perfume.

After leaving, you never know-

If you will ever see the snow-

Of the cold winters quivered you with desire;

Or the hot summer set you in fire;

Or the house you built on the height;

Loved each brick of it with delight,

Or the old, tall tree of oak-

Your grandpa planted with love and stroke;

Or the ancient grocer up the street-

Kind and gentle he was and sweet;

Or the old library with all the ease.

It was cozy and exhilarate, like a breeze.

Spoiled and lazy in mom’s on holiday.

World had turned around all the way.


Home, my country I miss.

Mom, dad, family and bliss.

I am at home, but far from event;

Gossip,  get together, and content…






Love, like a hidden blossom stands;

Shelters in the cage of heart and commands-

A sensitive Gardner to care;

Waters the root, cleans the air.

Before the malicious insects change-

The beautiful blooms to strange.

Make home inside the roots the vicious ant;

Never mind the sensitivity of poor plant!

Be my Gardner, water my root.

Juicy and healthy I’ll be as fruit.

Blossoms open, love flourishes.

My regret remains after all the wishes…



Passion for art




Night is coming to an end;

When moon slowly, slowly doesn’t ascend!

And it breaks to pieces in the stream.

In this dry land of so extreme;

Where the grass isn’t mostly green.

Oh, this is where I live, such a scene!

I left all, but I found no friend.

I left my heart in old walls with no end.

So I can stay alone, thinking with pain-

Of you, only you, again and again!

Now moon is gone, it is day.

I hear the cars rushing on street and highway.

And I think of you, so far from moon!

Maybe I can return to you soon!!!


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Beneath so many inquisitive eyes, I search divine.

The stifling oppression feels like burning sunshine.

Searching for tranquility continues with no ease.

So many nights come to an end with morning breeze.

Turning down everyone, saying I need space.

Being lonely always, I see and empty place.

Love imprinted in piteous memory;

Like the mad man’s writing in an old book of poetry.

Then I seek serenity in a wild kiss.

Later burying my face, that wasn’t a bliss.

A pillar of obscure light flickers through crevice to show,

It may be a dismal ending, or an oscillating rainbow.

I will wear in my dark hair a delicate bloom.

An unruly gnawing sits in pages of the tome.

Then I seek clarity in a phlegmatic world.

Afflicted and hurt, I repent and scold.

A voiceless impetuosity enters to the sight.

An image-less mist gleams with fright.

Ecstasy is what I am after and lark.

The cry of loud thunder echoes like a dog’s bark.

The emotional outburst makes me numb.

Penetrating moon glimmers above tree of plum.

Inside suffocate me, outside is air.

Petals of roses, the red ones, I will wear.


A sudden sensation stops the long game.

The empathic moment sublimes the aim.

Turning beneath the rain and enhance;

Breathing, smelling, and a little dance.

It is nature, sky, trees, dew, every living piece,

Reward me voice, image, serenity, clarity, and peace…







Life, you I explore ~ To find out more-

That you’re vain ~ You bring pain.

Do I stop to grow ~ Or run from woe?

The answer I implore!

My earthly cell ~ Burns like hell;

Because you’re wrong ~ I must belong-

To blue sky above ~ filled with love;

And filled with rose smell!

You, I seek ~ Days and week!

You, I dream ~ Never extreme!

Holding your hand ~ Where I stand;

So we can never seek!

I am pale ~ Telling this tale.

Songs I hear ~ From far not near.

Desirous flame ~ Written along my name.

Hopeful spark, I unveil.

I regret the day ~ I did dismay.

Angrily I did look ~ My head I shook.

Didn’t know you stay ~ I go my way!

Like water that flows away.

Oh, life, in your class ~ I am just a mass.

Feeling fills my heart ~ From your generous art.

Should death looks at me ~ My eyes wouldn’t see.

This darkness should also pass…