Category Archives: Poetry Corner

To the Class of ‘73

by Jim Farfaglia

To the Class of ‘73


Forty years.

Forty calendars hung anew.

Forty rides on the wave of life…


But, oh, if we could ride that wave

back to the banks of old Oswego,

what would we find?


G.Ray overlooking Neatahwanta,

Recreation Park just a homerun away;

our cheers from the bleachers resounding.


The gymnasium, decorated for Prom,

Elton John and Rod Stewart really rockin’

and Chicago coloring our world.


The auditorium, hushed in wait,

decked out for the Variety Show;

our songs and skits proving we were tops.


Our senior-year lockers,

where we gathered each morning,

filling the hallways with our latest news.


The doorway of our favorite classroom,

where we found a desk by the window

and looked out at summer rising –


listening for the faint call of our future.

The Day He Broke Loose

by Jim Farfaglia

The Day He Broke Loose


With tongue hanging from a droolish grin

and galloping on legs left idle too long,

he escapes the chains of his ordinary life.


Stopping in my yard to run in circles,

freedom swirls around him,

‘til he’s downright dizzy with wonderment.


Then his nose brings him to his senses

and he follows the streetside trail of his kin –

straight to the nearest patch of woods,


where his wild life awaits.

Birds-eye View

by Jim Farfaglia

Birds-eye View


It was a simple plan:

Hang a feeder outside the kitchen window,

buy seed to keep it filled – then sit back

and watch the coming and going of life.


But what an unexpected bonus

has swept in on colorful wings,

what heavenly lessons

have kept me filled with inspiration:


The wisdom to stock up before a storm,

and the sweet song of joy that survives it;

the discovery that, though size does matter,

those with patience are also nourished;


and the simple truth that, some days,

nothing’s better than finding a perch in the sun,

where you can go to work on a kernel,

cracking open its promise.

Poppies – Late May

by Jim Farfaglia

Poppies – Late May


For weeks they were only green furry eggs,

each sitting atop a slim stalk,

defying gravity.


Yesterday, they offered a peek of their promise,

blushing like school boys

at their first spring dance.


And today – right on time –

three burst open,

revealing their colorful cries of joy:


for the coming of summer,

for the particular beauty of red,

for the gift of things worth noticing.

How We Used To Get Around

by Jim Farfaglia

How We Used To Get Around


The first of us to travel on Fulton soil

did so through the simple act

of putting one foot in front of the other,

getting places one step at a time.


In the 1700s, canoes got us moving,

and they rapidly caught on.

It was easy-going one way,

not so much the other.


By the 1800s, horse-drawn trolleys

lifted us above river waters,

finally connecting our town’s two sides –

and we were sitting pretty.


At the turn of the 20th century,

bicycles spun into fashion,

and they took off like a road race –

by 1908, we sported four bike shops!


When ambulances first arrived on the scene

they got where they had to go, lickety-split.

Most came with a warning bell

and a few even had brakes.


Along came automobiles and buses,

taxis and motorcycles,

snowmobiles and 4-wheelers –

faster and faster; easier and easier…


So why is it that the best days, it seems,

are when I dust off my comfortable shoes,

and slowly resurrect that fine art

of walking through Fulton.

May Mystery

by Jim Farfaglia

May Mystery


Oh, lowly dandelion,

sneakiest of all weeds,

rising above the new-spring grass

to proclaim yourself a sun-god.


There’s no controlling you,

laying claim wherever you choose,

and sending your root so deep

it looks like you’re here to stay.


But wait!

Maybe you are something regal,

maybe you do command magical powers –

for, overnight, your golden sunburst


becomes a feathered snow-globe,

and, now, atop your throne you sit,

waiting for a noble breeze

to carry you into next May.

Class Project

by Jim Farfaglia

Class Project


Two children walked hand in hand

to the art room, for a brush and brown paint,

giving this two-liter bottle a natural look.


One lucky student was selected,

under Teacher’s watchful eye,

to cut an oval in its side.


A chatty group shredded old homework pages

and mixed them with pencil shavings,

supplying it with a comfortable base.


Two friends wound colorful yarn

into the grooves of its bottleneck

and tied it twice.


And then one child,

just outside their window,

hung this bottle from an outstretched limb…


Come, sweet bird,

come make this your home,

and make this day –

for the children watching from their desks –

an A+ day.

Turning the Calendar

by Jim Farfaglia

Turning the Calendar


Today we climb aboard another month

and survey its uncharted waters,

ready to begin our voyage

on this shipful of promising days:


the watertight Monday-through-Fridays,

those smooth-sailing weekends,

and, off in the distance,

the high peaks of holidays

and harbor lights of the moon’s phases.


The ship’s captain has already logged

the port stops of doctor appointments

and eagerly-awaited destinations

of passengers’ birthdays,

landmarks we’d be wise to watch for

if we want this to be a smooth ride…


all the way to our journey’s end,

where we’ll dock just one night,

waiting for the next wave

to flip us up and over


into a new month.