Ellie belfiglio

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




If there were silver strings,
So delicate to use;
And thin sewing needles,
Tender, so not bruise,
I gather every tear that falls,
From a crushed and broken heart.
I sew together tears into a quilt;
With tender, delicate, strong thread.

So it wouldn’t come apart.
I sew each teardrop with silver strings;
Meanwhile add a little throb.
When you go to bed each night,
You could hear my sob;
And when you cover yourself at night,
You’d be wrapped in my pain.
You would be smothered by this fear-
Of the heart- felt lonely rain.
But after touching all my teardrops,
You’d roll over to find me there.
Adding to this endless quilt,
Another tear, just another tear!! …


[ Ellie ]

The pictures are from bing.com…




Sunflowers in vast field sway like a dream.

A feverish shudder rises in its extreme.

Animated nature is not about fate.

The gloomy impetuosity is what we rate.

The delicate blooms of sunflowers crush.

The bitter remorse changes yellow to blush.

An eloquent silence falls after the daze.

Rays of the sun burn grass with blaze.

A moment of bliss is the whole of a man’s life.

Nights come to an end with a morning rife!

The shrill, frantic cries of the rebels,

Rings after the man like so many farewells!

The misty night pregnant with fear, ague, and cold-

Fevers every conceivable shape and size in wold.

The imprinted loves in memories remain;

Like a sweet dream after awakening in brain.

The discolored walls of sunflowers allure.

Ten years hence, grown older, still endure.

Casting a dark shadow over bright, serene happiness;

Then chill and darken the heart with savage wound of emptiness.

The mournful song of the wind abolishes the game.

The picture of spring rose glows with flame.

Woeful smile, a tear on the cheek, and a searching glance,
the gloomy show of the sunflowers enhance…