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

“… STOIC, LEATHERY FACE”

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… A leathery, weathered face

… Stoic, sun-burned, no line will erase

Immobile, work-hardened hands

Clasped behind back as he stands.

Weary from the toil of the day

Endowing fields to lay!

With deepest, gazing eye

Sweeping the Western Sky.

Toiling to foretell and guess

Face unrevealing of plan, more or less

Made for sowing tomorrow

If the weather doesn’t bring sorrow…

… Bearing in his brain

The whimsical plain

And beguiling nature’s way!

He thinks what if his tools betray!

If the weather is unfit

For sowing wheat…

… Stand…

Face unreadable in that land!

Leaning against a tree
With shoulders that disagree!! ...
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Ellie
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Author: elliebelfiglio

I am a professor, a poet, an author, and an immigrant. I am the survival of many political and economical hardship. As a political immigrant, it took me a long time to master the English language and to come to terms that I can never see my family again. "THE PARTING FROM MY FAMILY WAS THE BEGINNING OF A FRIENDSHIP THAN THE END OF OUR FRIDAYS!" My autobiography, "THE RAIN STOPS IN TEXAS" was published in 1997 by Eakin Press. It can be found in Amazon. As Ernest Hemingway says, write about something you know, most of my novels are about cultural difference of the old and new and American style of living compare to my home country. My poetry are in all forms. I write as they come to me. My first draft is always my last draft. "THIS IS MY WORLD, WELCOME!" "THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE!"

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