Ellie belfiglio

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


Leave a comment


Remembering all the smiles you did bring.

Remembering the song that we did sing.

Remembering our love that wouldn’t go away.

Remembering people who would slay.

Remembering the touches, oh, the caresses.

Remembering a love that surpasses.

Remembering the care and wanting were the best.

Remembering how owe I was and impressed.

Remembering all our fights.

Remembering all our nights.

… Remembering how I saw you change one night.

Remembering I was”t sure to weep or spite.

Remembering we talked and loved.

Remembering I knew I’ll be alone when you stalked.

Remembering how it was over, but not the end.

Remembering the final best and worst did blend!! …






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!"

Let everybody be nice!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s