Tag Archives: Jim Farfaglia

Poetry Corner: Garden Report

by Jim Farfaglia

 

No sign yet.

 

Just the mound of dirt I dug up,

slipped you into,

sprinkled with rain water

and proclaimed your home.

 

I stop by every day,

say my version of a prayer

and pull a few jealous weeds

snaking toward you.

 

You are nothing yet but my hope –

which means you are everything.

I gladly dream of the day

I will stop by and see

 

your first tiny hand

waving hello,

your green

all the riches I need.

Poetry Corner: Father’s Day Gifts

by Jim Farfaglia

 

Sitting in the bleachers,

watching that 3-pointer leave your fingers,

after watching you practice it for hours

under our streetside basket.

Seeing it follow my hopes,

as it falls through the net.

 

Listening in the audience,

picking out your voice

from all your chorus mates.

Hearing it hit that satisfying high note

that you reached for, time and again,

rehearsing behind your bedroom door.

 

All the firsts –

that afternoon nap,

you a warm football against my chest,

listening to your baby’s breath rise and fall.

 

All the lasts –

that June morning,

you proudly robed in school colors,

watching as you walk into life.

 

And all the dreams,

once offered to you as gifts,

now sweetly returned

on this day.

Poetry Corner: 33 1/3

by Jim Farfaglia

33 1/3

Today’s digital music holds nothing

compared to how I once held

those timeless vinyl discs,

each with a tiny hole that fit them

so neatly atop my turntable

 

where they slowly ran in circles

and where I gently set upon them

a diamond needle

and listened

 

as my favorite tunes

rose from those grooves,

each song just about three minutes long –

long enough to learn about life

or hell raisin’

or how to mend a broken heart.

 

And the records I loved over and over?

They wound up with crackles and skips

that became a part of those songs,

flaws weaving into each story

like my mishaps wove into mine.

 

And whenever life got boring

I could flip them upside down

and try out side B,

inviting those songs into the circle of my life,

letting them revolve around my world

thirty three and a third times

per minute.

Poetry Corner: The Gauchos

by Jim Farfaglia

The Gauchos

Memorial Day Weekend, 1968.

A 9 year old boy leans against his bicycle,

waiting in anticipation,

just across the street

from the Nestles parking lot.

 

He watches them prepare for the parade:

tuning their horns,

strapping on their drums,

shining their wooden rifles,

 

then follows them through their whole route:

first to the cemetery,

where their Taps echoes through gravesites,

then to the Sealright Parking lot,

over to City Hall

and on across the Broadway Bridge.

 

He listens to tune after tune:

Windy

Lawrence of Arabia

Oye Como Va

and their crowd pleaser

Blueberry Hill

 

which brings them to the War Memorial,

where all of them stand tall

in black bell-bottomed pants,

white shirt and gloves, red cummerbund

and atop each head, a sombrero.

 

And the boy imagines himself

someday wearing that uniform,

of someday belonging to that family:

The Ambassadors For Our City.

The Pride of Fulton, New York.

Writing class for adults to be held in June

The CNY Arts Center will hold a class for adult writers entitled “Building Your Writing Muscle.”

Instructor Jim Farfaglia will teach this six-week class for beginning writers or experienced writers who are looking to develop better writing skills.

The class will be taught for six consecutive Thursdays beginning June 7. Class time will be from 6:30 to 8 p.m. and will take place at the Fulton Public Library.

Topics to be discussed during the class include “Finding The Time To Write,” “How To Edit and Improve Written Work,” and “Strategies for Becoming a More Creative Writer.” Some time for students to share their writing will be provided.

There is a fee for the class. Information about the fee and how to register for the class may be obtained by visiting the center’s web site at http://www.cnyartscenter.com.

Those seeking information about the class can contact Jim Farfaglia at sjimf903@twcny.rr.com or at 402-2297.

Poetry Corner: Diner

by Jim Farfaglia

Diner

No matter how your day has gone
or what the weather is doing,
when you walk through its doors –
the guys behind the grill calling hello –
it feels a little like coming home.

Long lines are sure to form
depending on the day’s special,
which you can easily guess
from the tastiness drifting through,
making your stand in line worthwhile.

Once you’ve been seated
your waitress sure makes you feel special:
keeping your coffee cup full
and clearing your plates quickly,
so you can stretch out

and say hello to your left and right,
to other patrons wondering how you are,
sharing slices of their lives
and sipping a bit on yours,
filling this diner with a hearty glow.

Poetry Corner: Apple Blossoms

by Jim Farfaglia

They smile from slender branches,

happy to have survived the winter,

their sweet joy perfuming the air

whenever the wind happens through.

 

They drop off one by one

and gather on the new-green grass:

a fruit tree’s lucky coins,

tossed on a backyard wishing pond.

 

They look back at their yellow stars

still clinging to those limbs

and pregnant with the season’s harvest –

such a noble reason for a blossom’s falling.