Writing at night

The young poet pens down,

Releasing the words he writes,

Inspired by the starry sky,

His rhymes take flight.

But they’re just words

Written on a window sill.

 

Paolo Driussi

The Mirror

The mirror tells the elderly they are teens

Sometimes the mirror lies

I was once old but now I am not

I threw the mirror to see time fly 

But it always comes back more cracked.

Paolo Driussi.

 A Whole Afternoon

Talking with him

Smiling and laughing

All of his quirks

Without anyone else stealing his gaze

You get to bask in all of him

And show him

What being with you is like

A whole afternoon

To show him how to fall in love.

Paolo Driussi.

Neighborhood

Porch lights channeling,

Centering to a point in the distance,

Pathways catching light.

First little raindrops cling to a street light,

A street in a neighborhood silent at midnight.

Paolo Driussi

Things look better in the daylight 

Willow trees weep to a water's edge

Once his golden moon was shone down

A gleaming charm on silver lined sky,

His years of glory, eclipsing, rotating, 

My years on hold.

It took decades for my life to unravel. 

And when  it was fully a mess

It was too late to gather up the strings

And make something whole of it again.

I just ran around sighing, unraveled for a while,

Not sure how to handle it.

Then there comes a time when

You are lying awake at three in the morning

And it comes to you. 

You know it, somewhere in the recess of your mind,

That you’re unraveling. 

Then three a.m. turns to eight a.m.

And things look better in the daylight. 

You’re going to be ok. 

You pull your sweater tight against you 

And you go on not noticing the gaping hole.

Golden dust falls by leaves on a  path.

He stopped,

I go on.

Paolo Driussi.

 Hands in our pockets

I am no hero,

and I'm no antagonist.

I'm a common man at least.

In my dreams I’m strong,

But not now. I’m helpless now.

Then I’m waking up.

I try not to think.

Sometimes I just ramble, rant,

And laugh for too long.

But now our eyes focused on pavement,

Hands in our pockets,

Looking for the words

To feed strangers.

Paolo Driussi. 

Riding in the Rain

You are talking to a wall,

Take a deep breath

No need to go on 

About something so small.

You’ve made your point clear

Now let's drop it all.

Thunder echoes overhead,

White strikes to the floor

The thunderstorm is bred.

Paolo Driussi