Latest Poetry

Heeding the Call

Copyright 2017, DC Bianchino, All Rights Reserved.

And shy I become, concerning others
Like a turtle that hides
Inside its shell
Afraid to be mistaken
For something else.

Still, this worth embraces me
Its character with hidden treasure
Inside it sees, and faith in that
Inter seeds
And allows me to be as I am, this turtle
Sharing its poetry.

Like this morning waiting for a persons call to come
(And not received) Instead another came
A day of the Poets like Pasternak
A day when the sun is shining, the sky a brilliant blue
Wind blowing through trees now speaking to me
And now to you.
Friendly fall colors, near their end
As trees Undress without shame. I don’t know their names
To me they’re all the same.

Their leaves spread on ground, mostly brown
Having served their time.

See, my hearts heavy, thinking of you. Not just you
But the you who might be reading this.
See the wind charged, blows these stately trees
Ridding them of yesterday, only to reveal
Field stone walls, and field of farm, and that’s not
All.

For here there is what once was; now!
That which was broken, and with the howling of wind
Its voice has spoken. Shaking up what blocks ones vision
Sharing with us, what once was hidden,
Baring its soul in Leaves now ridden.

Ah! But dance they do with wind their last
Free from tree that was their mast,
With all now gone that was Their past,
Left in the poetry in shadows they cast
And a turtle exposing with words moving fast,
Heeding the call,
For us…All.

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