Ellie belfiglio

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

“GARDEN OF STONE”

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… All aligned in even row;

Some white as snow, some lost glow.

Upon their faces, bearing a name,

To tell us who is below that fame.

… Children, mothers, friends,

Famous, infamous to the ends.

What difference is now?

For all share the same row!

amber-whispers

… All frozen now by death.

No sound, not a breath.

Tucked in humble lairs in compound;

Peaceful rest in hollow ground.

… some may remember those died,

When passed the garden’s aside.

For a liar waits to hold you-

Beneath lush green grass through!

… If someone arrives anew-

To your newly found home’s view;

Another name etched forever;

Admist the stone garden’s sever!! …

9 13 Makalu West Face, West Pillar, And Southwest Face Sunset From East Col Camp

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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