Ellie belfiglio

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

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Were life

to come up and stare you in the face?

You’d have forgotten your glasses.

Were the sun

to shine right into your eyes?

The shade would be in your way.

Were the wind

to blow fresh?

Ignoring new fires

stirring life’s ashes.

You’d have be numbed by its coldness.

I don’t understand you Sir,

viewing the world through opaqued lenses.

Dark overpowering shadow

negating whatever bit of light there is

whatever bit of sight you have.

“Have you ever thought of getting glasses?” …




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… “we always were,” he whispered, “a timeless memory”

“We soar above convention, on winged affinity”.

… “Together… more than two,” she mused, their uncapped alchemy.

Billowing beyond rapport, in singularity.

… Echoes from the Pantheon, deific euphony

Proclaimed their bonding preordained, recorded destiny.

… “Life’s a quest for complement, a rapt congruity

“your union rides the fulcrum of a rare fortuity.”

… “Unfettered by the ligatures of custom’s sophistry

“a wealth eclipsing  virtuous, your serendipity.”

… “you see,” he said, enfolding her, set obligation free

“I’ll lead the way to Camelot to live our ‘meant to be.”

… But habit held her hostage, and he wooed uncertainly

Wrapped around the words he spoke in timid prophecy.

… A flight to the familiar, to home and family

He lives with how it might have been… she lives in reverie!! …


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There’s a time in one’s life, when you come to the fork in the road,

Sometimes we don’t notice, if our life’s on even keel.

We carry on doing what we normally do,

Not even paying attention, that we’ve taken the wrong road.

The little things that happen, we don’t notice at all.

But a bystander sees them, and is watching us go.

There’s potholes, and cracks and corners and curves,

We step around many, stumble into a few.

We blame it on life, taking it in stride.

Thinking this is the way, there’s nothing we can do.

If we were the ones on the sidelines, looking in,

We’d have taken, the other, fork in the road!! …




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… Tales are the stories of old,

Some are exaggerated or bold.

Yarns are oft passed down from father to son,

There are strains, never just one.

… As a child I heard of strange odes,

I heard miners speak of the “MOTHER LOAD”.

Grandpa spealed at length of his hunting chase,

Many strange pursuit he faced.

… Grandma talked softly in hushed tones,

She spoke of legends etched in stone.

I was told of traits passed down,

Family history was very profound.

… Now, I reflect on those tales of old,

In my mind they never run cold.

I remember always the past,

Cherished memories that will forever last!! …






Ellie belfiglio


Can you hear it falling, outside the window sill?

The trees and leaves are drinking. And everything

Is still. Into the night, the rain creeping, down the

Outside wall. And as you lay awake you can hear it in

The hall. All the animals are hiding in their

Little holes, waiting for the rain to stop thumping

On their burrows and homes. Inside the house the

dogs and cats are sleeping. And you can hear your child

weeping. You hope that soon you will be sleeping.

So that you can leave the rain in your dreaming!! …


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Ellie belfiglio


… I stopped listening to the babbling of a brook!

I crept silently into a nest to look.

At wee hours unfeathered fledglings lifted up their head,

Expecting some morsel to be fed!

… I laid upon the grass and looked up into sky.

I watched the images of white clouds as they drifted by.

I wondered how sun could warm this mighty earth!

I knew with the depth of my soul that happened birth!

… I climbed a mountain high up to its craggy heights!

I looked over its wonder and saw mighty sights.

I watched children play hide and seek;

It seemed as if the world stood still beneath their feet!

… Ah, friend, open up your eyes and know;

No one but God can make these things so…

Only God could mold the earth and hold it in His hand!

He made it all, blessed it all…

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Ellie belfiglio


Pain screams.

It falls and streams.


Hate gracefully breaks;

Claws into skin and wails!

Tearing skin with its nails.

People wail,

Seeing their flesh’s snail;

Falls and breaks;

But ignoring the aches.

A sliver of severed skin-

Slip silently, I’ve seen-

To the soft ground,

Then amazes so astound;

Explodes around!

And it is not found-

Till death finds its round!! …



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