Category Archives: Poetry Corner

Poetry Corner: Halloween 1960

by Jim Farfaglia

Halloween 1960

 

The school bus is minutes away.

Our kindergarten party awaits.

My Freddy the Freeloader costume

is in a brown paper sack,

but lacking one thing:

his floppy, torn top hat –

and I cry at my incompleteness.

So you get right to work

with construction paper, cardboard

and your easy way with creativity.

As the bus pulls into view

you place on my head the finishing touch…

 

Parading down the sidewalk

that winds around Phillips St. School

I see the neighbors lining the streets,

handing out compliments

as sweet as penny candy.

I hold my upside-down newspaper,

pretending to read, and trip on a crack.

Just like Freddy the Freeloader!

someone offers and –

as I adjust my floppy hat –

for the second time today

I smile through my tears.

Poetry Corner: On Rainy Saturday Mornings

by Jin Farfaglia

On Rainy Saturday Mornings

 

On rainy Saturday mornings

we’d get up early, my brother and I,

and make our own breakfast:

hot cocoa and toast with extra jelly.

 

Then we’d tiptoe to the living room,

turn on the TV low

and flip through the three channels,

amazed at all the fun to choose from.

 

We’d start with Western Jamboree

heroes like the Lone Ranger riding in,

always ready to fight for what was right.

 

Next there’d be Looney Tunes

with Elmer, who’d chase Bugs,

who’d yell at Daffy, who’d pick on poor Porky.

 

Or maybe we’d watch The Three Stooges

those knuckleheads always tripping up,

forever pointing fingers at each other.

 

But we always made sure to watch Sky King

that solitary plane, searching,

flying high across the prairies…

 

Later, the rain would stop

and the rest of the day we’d be outside –

chasing our friends and being knuckleheads,

sometimes itching for a fight

 

but always letting our imagination run free,

letting it fly

across the skyways of possibility.

Poetry Corner: Poinsettia

by Jim Farfaglia

Poinsettia

 

Today begins the magic.

 

Today I become a nature god,

ensuring exact amounts of sunlight and darkness

for this simple potted greenery.

By Christmas Day

it will become a bright and brilliant red!

 

As I ponder this transformation

I think about my life

and how far from nature’s spectrum I have faded:

overly dependent on overhead lighting,

hunched for hours at my computer.

 

But what if I balanced my need for light & dark?

What routines, once so important,

would drop like spent leaves?

What richness would rise from my roots

and spread through my veins?

 

How bright and brilliant would my red be?