Bad Hair Blessings
By Don Iannone
Bad hair is no excuse for a bad day.
Instead it speaks to the wild beast within you.
You know...that untamed nature
you've worked so hard to tame
with little to no success.
Your wild hair reflects your true nature.
Steppenwolf said it in their 1968 song:
Like a true nature's child...We were born, born to be wild.
Your wild hair is a special sign...from God
that you are an exceptionally strong person
who can handle big life challenges.
Why else would you be afflicted with this curse?
On the other hand,
should you decide that your hair condition is fatal,
consider all the bald people out there,
who wish they warranted a shiny new hair brush
in their Christmas stocking this year.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
When the Security Alarm Calls Your Name
By Don Iannone
Wednesday 4:16 AM.
Security alarm screeches out in the night.
Hearts jump out of our chests.
Cats streak out of the bedroom.
Confusion and terror all at once.
Groping for the light.
Fumbling to turn off the alarm,
but not too quickly in case...
there is a real threat.
Alarm panel flashes "PHONE."
Phone? What the hell?
Oh, the phone must not be working,
and the security system ties into the phone line.
Check the phone.
Checking...
Dead as a door nail.
Call security company...on the cell phone, because
the regular phone line is...dead.
Security people conclude the obvious:
Sir, your phone line isn't working.
Duh!
Don't you love experts?
Ok Ma'm, so how do we shut off this blaring alarm?
Sir, power down the system.
What? How do I do that?
Go to the basement, and
I will instruct you on the procedure.
Procedure?
Ma'm, I know nothing of these things.
I think, but don't say:
Fixing things skips generations in my family.
And guess what? It skipped me.
Alarm still blaring...
obviously the neighbors hate our guts
for our alarm awakening them two hours early.
Standing in my bathrobe,
with my Albert Einstein morning hair,
I succeed in powering down the alarm system.
Finally it's quiet.
The cats are nowhere to be found for two hours.
I look everywhere.
How do they know how to hide so well?
Must be genetic, like my lack of mechanical aptitude.
An unexpected spiritual moment overtakes me...
Live in the moment...that's what your alarm in telling you.
I think...shit. I just want my coffee.
By Don Iannone
Wednesday 4:16 AM.
Security alarm screeches out in the night.
Hearts jump out of our chests.
Cats streak out of the bedroom.
Confusion and terror all at once.
Groping for the light.
Fumbling to turn off the alarm,
but not too quickly in case...
there is a real threat.
Alarm panel flashes "PHONE."
Phone? What the hell?
Oh, the phone must not be working,
and the security system ties into the phone line.
Check the phone.
Checking...
Dead as a door nail.
Call security company...on the cell phone, because
the regular phone line is...dead.
Security people conclude the obvious:
Sir, your phone line isn't working.
Duh!
Don't you love experts?
Ok Ma'm, so how do we shut off this blaring alarm?
Sir, power down the system.
What? How do I do that?
Go to the basement, and
I will instruct you on the procedure.
Procedure?
Ma'm, I know nothing of these things.
I think, but don't say:
Fixing things skips generations in my family.
And guess what? It skipped me.
Alarm still blaring...
obviously the neighbors hate our guts
for our alarm awakening them two hours early.
Standing in my bathrobe,
with my Albert Einstein morning hair,
I succeed in powering down the alarm system.
Finally it's quiet.
The cats are nowhere to be found for two hours.
I look everywhere.
How do they know how to hide so well?
Must be genetic, like my lack of mechanical aptitude.
An unexpected spiritual moment overtakes me...
Live in the moment...that's what your alarm in telling you.
I think...shit. I just want my coffee.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Plunge in Wonder
By Don Iannone
Mandala by Mandala Visions
Wonder often,
Wonder wide,
Wonder further,
Never hide.
Never cease
to be amazed,
Delve deeper,
Delve wide.
Plunge the depths
for there to find
the truth you seek.
In stillness, there abide.
By Don Iannone
Mandala by Mandala Visions
Wonder often,
Wonder wide,
Wonder further,
Never hide.
Never cease
to be amazed,
Delve deeper,
Delve wide.
Plunge the depths
for there to find
the truth you seek.
In stillness, there abide.
What's in a Name?
Angela over at Bold Contemplations made me aware of this website by Paul Sadowski that uses numerology to tell you what your name means. Thanks Angela, and thanks Paul Sadowski!
Here is what I learned...
You entered: Donald Terry Iannone.
There are 18 letters in your name.
Those 18 letters total to 91.
There are 7 vowels and 11 consonants in your name.
Your number is: 1
The characteristics of #1 are: Initiating action, pioneering, leading, independent, attaining, individual.
The expression or destiny for #1:
A number 1 Expression denotes the skilled executive with keen administrative capabilities. You must develop the capacity to be a fine leader, sales executive, or promoter. You have the tools to become an original person with a creative approach to problem solving, and a penchant for initiating action. Someone may have to follow behind you to handle the details, but you know how to get things going and make things happen. You have a good mind and the ability to use it for your advancement. Because of these factors, you have much potential for achievement and financial rewards. Frequently, this expression belongs to one running a business or striving to achieve a level of accomplishment on ones talents and efforts. You have little need for much supervision, preferring to act on your own with little restraint. You are both ambitious and determined. Self-confident and self-reliant must be yours, as you develop a strong unyielding will and the courage of your convictions.
Although you fear loneliness, you want to be left alone. You fear routine and being in a rut. You often jump the gun because you are afraid of being left behind.
The negative attributes of the 1 Expression are egotism and a self-centered approach to life. This is an aggressive number and if it is over-emphasized it is very hard to live with. You do not have to be overly aggressive to fulfill your destiny. The 1 has a natural instinct to dominate and to be the boss; adhering to the concept of being number One. Again, you do not have to dominate and destroy in order to lead and manage.
Your Soul Urge number is: 6
A Soul Urge number of 6 means:
With a number 6 Soul Urge, you would like to be appreciated for your ability to handle responsibility. Your home and family are likely to be a strong focus for you, perhaps the strongest focus of your life. Friendship, love, and affection are high on your list of priorities for a happy life. You have a lot of diplomatic tendencies in your makeup, as you a able to rectify and balance situations with an innate skill. You like working with people rather than by yourself. It is extremely important for you to have harmony in your environment at all times.
The positive side of the 6 Soul Urge produces a huge capacity for responsibility; you are always there and ready to assume more than your share of the load. If you possess positive 6 Soul Urges and express them, you are known for your generosity, understanding and deep sympathetic attitude. Strong 6 energy is very giving of love, affection, and emotional support. You may have the inclination to teach or serve your community in other idealistic ways. You have natural abilities to help people. You are also likely to have artistic and creative leanings.
If you have an over-supply of 6 energy in your makeup, you may express some of the negative traits common to this number. With such a strong sympathetic attitude, it is easy to become too emotional. Sometimes the desires to render help can be over done, and it can become interfering and an attitude that is too protective, rather than helpful. The person with too much 6 energy often finds that people tend to take advantage of this very giving spirit. You may tend to repress your own needs so that you can cater to the demands from others. At times, there may be a tendency in this, for becoming over-loaded with such demands, and as a result become resentful.
Your Inner Dream number is: 4
An Inner Dream number of 4 means:
You dream of being a very solid citizen that people can depend upon. You strive for organization and predictable order. You want to be recognized as a person with a plan and the discipline to make that plan work like clockwork.
Want to learn about your birthday? Click here!
According to my birthday analysis, I have a Life Path Number of "9." What is a "9?"
The Life Path 9 suggests that you entered this plane with an abundance of dramatic feelings coupled with a strong sense of compassion and generosity. The key to the nature of a Life Path number 9 person is found in their humanitarian attitude. Even the very average of those with life path 9 possess extremely compassionate tendencies.
Usually this number produces an individual that is very trustworthy and honorable, and one unlikely to harbor any sort of prejudice. Obviously, this is a rather tall order, but you are, in fact, a person that feels very deeply for individuals less fortunate than yourself, and if you are in a position to help, you certainly will. The 9, being the highest of the single digit numbers, holds an elevated position in terms of responsibilities to mankind.
Material gains are not overly important, although the quality of some life path 9 people is such that they are materially rewarded in very significant ways. In this, however, the 9 Life Path is not apt to get rich since they are very generous, sometimes to a fault, and usually have an easy come, easy go attitude about money. The rare 9 life path has a totally selfless attitude, giving up of material possessions for the common good.
The 9 Life Path indicates you have a commanding presence. You have the ability to make friends very easily, as people are attracted to your magnetic, open personality. The term "hail-fellow" may have been coined to describe a 9 Life Path, as you may indeed be one of those who is generally upbeat and heartily friendly and congenial. You meet people easily and are quickly befriended because of your openness and amiable demeanor. Your genial ways often put you in the lead in whatever field of endeavor you pursue.
Relationships can be difficult for you because it is hard to strike a balance that will work effectively. If your partner is one sharing your giving attitudes, the relationship will be happy and lasting. On the other hand, if you choose a partner whose focus is on material issues, problems will arise quickly.
You tend to be quite sensitive, as you see the world with much feeling. The number 9's very deep understanding of life is sometimes manifested in the artistic and literary fields. If drama and acting is not your forte, it will surely be an area of great interest and potential. Likewise, you may be able to express your deep emotional feelings through painting, writing, music, or other art forms.
The purpose of life for those with a 9 life path is often of a philosophical nature. Judges, spiritual leaders, healers and educators frequently have much 9 energy. The number is less inclined to the competitive business environment and may find this a struggle.
As do all the life path numbers, the 9 has its negative side. Because of the demanding nature of the truly positive 9, many tend to fail in this category. It is not uncommon for persons with the 9 life path to fight the realities and challenges of purpose imposed here because selflessness is not an easy trait. You may have difficulty believing that giving and a lack of personal ambition can be satisfying. It must be realized and accepted that little long-term satisfaction and happiness is to be gained by rejecting the natural humanitarian inclinations of this path.
Angela over at Bold Contemplations made me aware of this website by Paul Sadowski that uses numerology to tell you what your name means. Thanks Angela, and thanks Paul Sadowski!
Here is what I learned...
You entered: Donald Terry Iannone.
There are 18 letters in your name.
Those 18 letters total to 91.
There are 7 vowels and 11 consonants in your name.
Your number is: 1
The characteristics of #1 are: Initiating action, pioneering, leading, independent, attaining, individual.
The expression or destiny for #1:
A number 1 Expression denotes the skilled executive with keen administrative capabilities. You must develop the capacity to be a fine leader, sales executive, or promoter. You have the tools to become an original person with a creative approach to problem solving, and a penchant for initiating action. Someone may have to follow behind you to handle the details, but you know how to get things going and make things happen. You have a good mind and the ability to use it for your advancement. Because of these factors, you have much potential for achievement and financial rewards. Frequently, this expression belongs to one running a business or striving to achieve a level of accomplishment on ones talents and efforts. You have little need for much supervision, preferring to act on your own with little restraint. You are both ambitious and determined. Self-confident and self-reliant must be yours, as you develop a strong unyielding will and the courage of your convictions.
Although you fear loneliness, you want to be left alone. You fear routine and being in a rut. You often jump the gun because you are afraid of being left behind.
The negative attributes of the 1 Expression are egotism and a self-centered approach to life. This is an aggressive number and if it is over-emphasized it is very hard to live with. You do not have to be overly aggressive to fulfill your destiny. The 1 has a natural instinct to dominate and to be the boss; adhering to the concept of being number One. Again, you do not have to dominate and destroy in order to lead and manage.
Your Soul Urge number is: 6
A Soul Urge number of 6 means:
With a number 6 Soul Urge, you would like to be appreciated for your ability to handle responsibility. Your home and family are likely to be a strong focus for you, perhaps the strongest focus of your life. Friendship, love, and affection are high on your list of priorities for a happy life. You have a lot of diplomatic tendencies in your makeup, as you a able to rectify and balance situations with an innate skill. You like working with people rather than by yourself. It is extremely important for you to have harmony in your environment at all times.
The positive side of the 6 Soul Urge produces a huge capacity for responsibility; you are always there and ready to assume more than your share of the load. If you possess positive 6 Soul Urges and express them, you are known for your generosity, understanding and deep sympathetic attitude. Strong 6 energy is very giving of love, affection, and emotional support. You may have the inclination to teach or serve your community in other idealistic ways. You have natural abilities to help people. You are also likely to have artistic and creative leanings.
If you have an over-supply of 6 energy in your makeup, you may express some of the negative traits common to this number. With such a strong sympathetic attitude, it is easy to become too emotional. Sometimes the desires to render help can be over done, and it can become interfering and an attitude that is too protective, rather than helpful. The person with too much 6 energy often finds that people tend to take advantage of this very giving spirit. You may tend to repress your own needs so that you can cater to the demands from others. At times, there may be a tendency in this, for becoming over-loaded with such demands, and as a result become resentful.
Your Inner Dream number is: 4
An Inner Dream number of 4 means:
You dream of being a very solid citizen that people can depend upon. You strive for organization and predictable order. You want to be recognized as a person with a plan and the discipline to make that plan work like clockwork.
Want to learn about your birthday? Click here!
According to my birthday analysis, I have a Life Path Number of "9." What is a "9?"
The Life Path 9 suggests that you entered this plane with an abundance of dramatic feelings coupled with a strong sense of compassion and generosity. The key to the nature of a Life Path number 9 person is found in their humanitarian attitude. Even the very average of those with life path 9 possess extremely compassionate tendencies.
Usually this number produces an individual that is very trustworthy and honorable, and one unlikely to harbor any sort of prejudice. Obviously, this is a rather tall order, but you are, in fact, a person that feels very deeply for individuals less fortunate than yourself, and if you are in a position to help, you certainly will. The 9, being the highest of the single digit numbers, holds an elevated position in terms of responsibilities to mankind.
Material gains are not overly important, although the quality of some life path 9 people is such that they are materially rewarded in very significant ways. In this, however, the 9 Life Path is not apt to get rich since they are very generous, sometimes to a fault, and usually have an easy come, easy go attitude about money. The rare 9 life path has a totally selfless attitude, giving up of material possessions for the common good.
The 9 Life Path indicates you have a commanding presence. You have the ability to make friends very easily, as people are attracted to your magnetic, open personality. The term "hail-fellow" may have been coined to describe a 9 Life Path, as you may indeed be one of those who is generally upbeat and heartily friendly and congenial. You meet people easily and are quickly befriended because of your openness and amiable demeanor. Your genial ways often put you in the lead in whatever field of endeavor you pursue.
Relationships can be difficult for you because it is hard to strike a balance that will work effectively. If your partner is one sharing your giving attitudes, the relationship will be happy and lasting. On the other hand, if you choose a partner whose focus is on material issues, problems will arise quickly.
You tend to be quite sensitive, as you see the world with much feeling. The number 9's very deep understanding of life is sometimes manifested in the artistic and literary fields. If drama and acting is not your forte, it will surely be an area of great interest and potential. Likewise, you may be able to express your deep emotional feelings through painting, writing, music, or other art forms.
The purpose of life for those with a 9 life path is often of a philosophical nature. Judges, spiritual leaders, healers and educators frequently have much 9 energy. The number is less inclined to the competitive business environment and may find this a struggle.
As do all the life path numbers, the 9 has its negative side. Because of the demanding nature of the truly positive 9, many tend to fail in this category. It is not uncommon for persons with the 9 life path to fight the realities and challenges of purpose imposed here because selflessness is not an easy trait. You may have difficulty believing that giving and a lack of personal ambition can be satisfying. It must be realized and accepted that little long-term satisfaction and happiness is to be gained by rejecting the natural humanitarian inclinations of this path.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Happy Birthday Sweet Mary
By Don Iannone
You never cease to amaze me,
with all that you are and you do.
There is little wonder,
why I so very much love you.
You awaken each morning
from your magical cocoon.
My heart burns without warning,
like an ever bright full moon.
My day seems so empty without you,
sometimes I forget who I am.
With your return my heart does renew,
just to see and touch you, my gem.
Love poems don't come easy,
except when they are true.
Our love is never queasy,
it holds us together like glue.
It's that time of year again
to honor you and your birth.
In my heart you reign,
I put you above everything on earth.
Happy birthday sweet Mary,
May this day shine with sun.
And in my heart I will carry
love that never can be undone.
By Don Iannone
You never cease to amaze me,
with all that you are and you do.
There is little wonder,
why I so very much love you.
You awaken each morning
from your magical cocoon.
My heart burns without warning,
like an ever bright full moon.
My day seems so empty without you,
sometimes I forget who I am.
With your return my heart does renew,
just to see and touch you, my gem.
Love poems don't come easy,
except when they are true.
Our love is never queasy,
it holds us together like glue.
It's that time of year again
to honor you and your birth.
In my heart you reign,
I put you above everything on earth.
Happy birthday sweet Mary,
May this day shine with sun.
And in my heart I will carry
love that never can be undone.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Asking for Help
By Don Iannone
Why do we wait so long
to pray for the help we need,
when we don't know which way to turn in life?
Rest assured there are no perfect prayers,
that must be memorized and said perfectly.
"Dear God, help me" is the perfect prayer
with the right intention behind it.
Admitting there is a Higher Power--
One larger and more powerful than us,
is the perfect beginning point.
Knowing that we need help,
coupled with the willingness to ask for help,
is the perfect start to receiving help.
Being able to recognize help when it arrives,
is requisite to the help helping us.
Allowing the help we receive to incubate,
and fill our healing cocoon,
is vital to our help taking hold and transforming us.
Don't wait so long to ask for help next time.
Needless suffering is just that...needless.
By Don Iannone
Why do we wait so long
to pray for the help we need,
when we don't know which way to turn in life?
Rest assured there are no perfect prayers,
that must be memorized and said perfectly.
"Dear God, help me" is the perfect prayer
with the right intention behind it.
Admitting there is a Higher Power--
One larger and more powerful than us,
is the perfect beginning point.
Knowing that we need help,
coupled with the willingness to ask for help,
is the perfect start to receiving help.
Being able to recognize help when it arrives,
is requisite to the help helping us.
Allowing the help we receive to incubate,
and fill our healing cocoon,
is vital to our help taking hold and transforming us.
Don't wait so long to ask for help next time.
Needless suffering is just that...needless.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Being the Truth You Speak
By Don Iannone
How can you speak the truth
if you aren't that truth in the first place?
I can't,
and neither can you.
Which truth is it
that you or I should be?
For each of us,
there is but one truth
that lies within us.
It is the truth found buried--
beneath all lies
that we tell ourselves,
and those told to us by others.
It is the truth that helps us
to rest at night, knowing
who we are, and why we are here.
Be the truth,
and you will always speak the truth.
And surprisingly,
you might find that the truth you are
needs no words to be known.
By Don Iannone
How can you speak the truth
if you aren't that truth in the first place?
I can't,
and neither can you.
Which truth is it
that you or I should be?
For each of us,
there is but one truth
that lies within us.
It is the truth found buried--
beneath all lies
that we tell ourselves,
and those told to us by others.
It is the truth that helps us
to rest at night, knowing
who we are, and why we are here.
Be the truth,
and you will always speak the truth.
And surprisingly,
you might find that the truth you are
needs no words to be known.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Looking Back and Wishing
By Don Iannone
Not so long ago, I was a young boy,
and the world overflowed with magic
of the sort only a sorcerer can portend.
Days were near eternities
that filled me with mystery
from early sun up to late sundown.
I still have my moments
when the stars speak to me in whispers,
and when joyful animation fills my soul.
My childhood was far from perfect,
and I'm sure yours was much the same.
But I'd give myself over in a heartbeat,
if I could play baseball for hours again
without a care to pull me in.
By Don Iannone
Not so long ago, I was a young boy,
and the world overflowed with magic
of the sort only a sorcerer can portend.
Days were near eternities
that filled me with mystery
from early sun up to late sundown.
I still have my moments
when the stars speak to me in whispers,
and when joyful animation fills my soul.
My childhood was far from perfect,
and I'm sure yours was much the same.
But I'd give myself over in a heartbeat,
if I could play baseball for hours again
without a care to pull me in.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Hearin' the Train Comin' for Me
By Don Iannone
In the eery far off distance,
I hear the train whistle blowin'.
And by its sound,
I know it's comin' for me.
I didn't think it was my time,
but if not mine...whose time?
Nothin' more hauntin'
than a freight train's whistle...
blowin' all alone, late at night.
I just hope this one night...
the train don't stop in Wheelin'.
And I pray it ain't comin' for me.
My heart stopped and started
all throughout the long pitch black of the night.
As I sleep totally all alone,
the train keeps on comin'...
I just hope and pray
it don't stop for me tonight.
Note: This one comes from my childhood.
Superstitious folks believed if someone was
very sick and they were awakened by a train
whistle, it meant they were going to die.
By Don Iannone
In the eery far off distance,
I hear the train whistle blowin'.
And by its sound,
I know it's comin' for me.
I didn't think it was my time,
but if not mine...whose time?
Nothin' more hauntin'
than a freight train's whistle...
blowin' all alone, late at night.
I just hope this one night...
the train don't stop in Wheelin'.
And I pray it ain't comin' for me.
My heart stopped and started
all throughout the long pitch black of the night.
As I sleep totally all alone,
the train keeps on comin'...
I just hope and pray
it don't stop for me tonight.
Note: This one comes from my childhood.
Superstitious folks believed if someone was
very sick and they were awakened by a train
whistle, it meant they were going to die.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Illusory Adventures
By Don Iannone
Seeking won't save you,
nor will grasping what clutches at your heart.
Much as the sun, moon and stars
appear to hover out there somewhere,
so too is your experience of your true nature.
These things...all things...rest in you.
If you must waste your time searching,
mount an inward path from where all arises,
but don't be surprised, or disappointed,
if you find nothing.
There is nothing to find,
since all rests within you already.
Remind yourself that you are...
one and the same with whatever you seek.
Moreover, your true nature and my true nature
are no different; rather completely the same.
We are not cut from the same cloth,
we are the same cloth--
one whole piece, complete,
and yes surprisingly perfect.
By Don Iannone
Seeking won't save you,
nor will grasping what clutches at your heart.
Much as the sun, moon and stars
appear to hover out there somewhere,
so too is your experience of your true nature.
These things...all things...rest in you.
If you must waste your time searching,
mount an inward path from where all arises,
but don't be surprised, or disappointed,
if you find nothing.
There is nothing to find,
since all rests within you already.
Remind yourself that you are...
one and the same with whatever you seek.
Moreover, your true nature and my true nature
are no different; rather completely the same.
We are not cut from the same cloth,
we are the same cloth--
one whole piece, complete,
and yes surprisingly perfect.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Sifting Sand
By Don Iannone
Life sifts
...like sand
...through open outstretched fingers.
No hourglass to contain it.
No beach providing a gestalt.
We play with it
...like some game
...we can win.
Don't bother tying up loose ends...
all ends are loose.
Just let it flow through you
...and wash you up on shore.
Celebrate wherever you are...
you're dead if you don't.
It fills us...
only to empty us
...spilling us on the floor
...abandoning our hope
...leaving us bare
...rubbed raw
...and finally...
just leaving us.
By Don Iannone
Life sifts
...like sand
...through open outstretched fingers.
No hourglass to contain it.
No beach providing a gestalt.
We play with it
...like some game
...we can win.
Don't bother tying up loose ends...
all ends are loose.
Just let it flow through you
...and wash you up on shore.
Celebrate wherever you are...
you're dead if you don't.
It fills us...
only to empty us
...spilling us on the floor
...abandoning our hope
...leaving us bare
...rubbed raw
...and finally...
just leaving us.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Simplifying Mindfulness
By Don Iannone
Mindfulness begins
when we tune into our heart,
and its message
about who we are
and why we are here.
Mindfulness is simple,
once we remember
that we are already mindful,
and the world is already perfect.
Mindfulness is realizing
there is no separation of the mind and heart,
other than one we impose on ourselves.
Enjoy your mindfulness
because it is all we really have.
By Don Iannone
Mindfulness begins
when we tune into our heart,
and its message
about who we are
and why we are here.
Mindfulness is simple,
once we remember
that we are already mindful,
and the world is already perfect.
Mindfulness is realizing
there is no separation of the mind and heart,
other than one we impose on ourselves.
Enjoy your mindfulness
because it is all we really have.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Encounters with a Long Winter's Night
By Don Iannone
I can't help but dream
on this long winter's night
when the fire blazes bright
and time stands perfectly still.
I can't help but drift
like the fresh fallen snow
that blankets the earth
and hushs me fast to sleep.
Somehow the purity and depth
of this early December snowfall
reminds me how simple life can be
when we just allow it to happen.
On this early winter's eve
the silence plumbs the depths
and awakens me while I sleep
stranding me amidst a single moonbeam.
By Don Iannone
I can't help but dream
on this long winter's night
when the fire blazes bright
and time stands perfectly still.
I can't help but drift
like the fresh fallen snow
that blankets the earth
and hushs me fast to sleep.
Somehow the purity and depth
of this early December snowfall
reminds me how simple life can be
when we just allow it to happen.
On this early winter's eve
the silence plumbs the depths
and awakens me while I sleep
stranding me amidst a single moonbeam.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
The Christmas Tree
Outside Our Front Window
By Don Iannone
Growing up in Martins Ferry in the 1950s,
there was a magical Christmas tree
just outside our front window.
Adorned with fresh driven snow,
and every bit as lovely as the tree
gracing our living room,
with its bright ornaments,
shiny lights, and sparkling tinsel.
The beautiful evergreen in the front yard,
seemed to reach forever upward,
bending whenever necessary,
but always springing back.
During the day,
the sunlight made its ice crystals glitter,
like the stars that shone so brightly
above it in the dark winter night sky.
The birds knew of the tree's specialness,
as they flocked to its branches,
like bees to honey.
I loved the mighty evergreen
for its fortitude in withstanding
the winter's brutal assaults,
and I loved its vibrancy--always green,
and always willing to give of itself
to all needing food and a place to rest.
Were it not for this wonderful tree,
I might know nothing
of the true meaning of Christmas.
Outside Our Front Window
By Don Iannone
Growing up in Martins Ferry in the 1950s,
there was a magical Christmas tree
just outside our front window.
Adorned with fresh driven snow,
and every bit as lovely as the tree
gracing our living room,
with its bright ornaments,
shiny lights, and sparkling tinsel.
The beautiful evergreen in the front yard,
seemed to reach forever upward,
bending whenever necessary,
but always springing back.
During the day,
the sunlight made its ice crystals glitter,
like the stars that shone so brightly
above it in the dark winter night sky.
The birds knew of the tree's specialness,
as they flocked to its branches,
like bees to honey.
I loved the mighty evergreen
for its fortitude in withstanding
the winter's brutal assaults,
and I loved its vibrancy--always green,
and always willing to give of itself
to all needing food and a place to rest.
Were it not for this wonderful tree,
I might know nothing
of the true meaning of Christmas.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Today is a Snow Day...at least poetically!
Growing up in Eastern Ohio in the 1950s, it snowed in the winter, sometimes heavily. We had "snow days" when it snowed a great deal. School was cancelled because the buses couldn't pick up the rural kids.
Snow days were unexpected gifts. We went sledding, built snow forts, had snowball fights, and longed for a hot bowl of soup and a toasted cheese sandwich for lunch before returning to our winter wonderland playground.
It looked like this...
Growing up in Eastern Ohio in the 1950s, it snowed in the winter, sometimes heavily. We had "snow days" when it snowed a great deal. School was cancelled because the buses couldn't pick up the rural kids.
Snow days were unexpected gifts. We went sledding, built snow forts, had snowball fights, and longed for a hot bowl of soup and a toasted cheese sandwich for lunch before returning to our winter wonderland playground.
It looked like this...
Finding Hope
on a Cold January Morning
By Don Iannone
Fluttery flakes of mad whiteness
tumble like flocks of butterflies,
without cause, or tribulation.
The morning air, stingingly cold,
drapes over me, like death,
on this razor-sharp January morning.
The fire toys with me, sputtering,
almost dying,
and finally resuscitating itself.
There is sun, bright white as the snow,
painfully harsh,
piercing the frozen windowpane.
Half buried, like some macabre effigy,
the morning paper taunts me
from a snowdrift at the end of the drive.
Then, without warning, my spirits revive
as the intoxicating scent of fresh coffee
fills my gasping nostrils.
The paper no longer seems so far away,
the snow not so deep,
and the day no longer frozen beyond hope.
on a Cold January Morning
By Don Iannone
Fluttery flakes of mad whiteness
tumble like flocks of butterflies,
without cause, or tribulation.
The morning air, stingingly cold,
drapes over me, like death,
on this razor-sharp January morning.
The fire toys with me, sputtering,
almost dying,
and finally resuscitating itself.
There is sun, bright white as the snow,
painfully harsh,
piercing the frozen windowpane.
Half buried, like some macabre effigy,
the morning paper taunts me
from a snowdrift at the end of the drive.
Then, without warning, my spirits revive
as the intoxicating scent of fresh coffee
fills my gasping nostrils.
The paper no longer seems so far away,
the snow not so deep,
and the day no longer frozen beyond hope.
Storm
By Robert Pack
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
The surge of swirling wind defines
As if your human shape were what the storm
Sought to contrive, intending to express
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Calling me to you with wild gesturings
Homeward into the howling woods, although
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
By Robert Pack
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
The surge of swirling wind defines
As if your human shape were what the storm
Sought to contrive, intending to express
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Calling me to you with wild gesturings
Homeward into the howling woods, although
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Only a fox whose den I cannot find.
The Cracked Bell
By Charles Baudelaire
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
Translated by Norman R. Shapiro
from Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal: A Bilingual Edition
Copyright 1998 and 1999 by The University of Chicago
By Charles Baudelaire
How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.
Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!
My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,
Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.
Translated by Norman R. Shapiro
from Selected Poems from Les Fleurs du mal: A Bilingual Edition
Copyright 1998 and 1999 by The University of Chicago
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
Free Will or Determinism
Read by Don Iannone (Click the link above)
So, what is your thought about free will and determinism?
Read by Don Iannone (Click the link above)
So, what is your thought about free will and determinism?
Free Will or Determinism
By Don Iannone
Free will or determinism...
that age-old debate
carrying most of us
to a conceptual fork in a conceptual road.
To the left, we conceive of free will,
or the thought we possess unbounded creativity.
To the right, we conceive of determinism,
or the thought that our creativity is bound.
To conceive, in any case, is a creative act;
that is to give birth to a concept pointing to reality.
This implies, of course, there is a difference
between reality and our ideas about it.
Are we ever completely free,
in the sense our choices are infinite?
Are we ever completely determined,
in the sense we have no choice?
Is it possible that we are free within limits,
and those limits are as much self-imposed,
as they are divinely-imposed?
Here again, our ideas imply
that the divine is separate from us.
Perhaps this separation is only an idea,
and nothing more.
Perhaps our self-imposed limits stem
from our ability to conceive
of only a limited number of choices.
Perhaps our divinely-imposed limits stem
from the Creator's wish to reserve
certain possibilities for itself.
This presumes, of course,
there is a divine "it,"
that exists separate from us.
And by the way, who are we?
Perhaps, the concept of "we" is nothing more
than our conceived need to believe
that something larger than us exists,
because we fail to realize
the full extent of our own power.
Or maybe, we are indeed powerless
without the idea there is a God,
or some divine being.
Is it possible that we co-create
our lives and the universe with the Creator,
and that each of us is a spark in the Creator's flame?
I must admit I'm not convinced
there is any separation between us and God,
or for that matter,
any separation in anything
conceived of as parts of the universe.
Perhaps there are no parts,
and perhaps we as parts don't even exist.
In which case, free will and determinism
is nothing more than a feeble attempt
to exist as separate, freestanding, beings.
Perhaps we are free to determine
only in any given moment,
and that freedom is only momentary, and
ceases to exist when that moment has passed.
Then again, are the moments we experience
separated in any way,
or is it just always now,
and time is a fiction created by our minds
allowing us to separate our thoughts?
Or perhaps we are determined to be free,
but that determination rests wholly in any moment.
Yet, for a determination to be wholly
implies it exists to a complete degree.
But if we must be determined to be free,
are we really free?
More importantly, free to be what,
and free of what?
Free to be what we think we are?
Free to be more than we think we are?
And free of what...
our illusions about being free or determined?
This poem was sparked by recent posts about free will
by Rob Quick and Trinitystar.
By Don Iannone
Free will or determinism...
that age-old debate
carrying most of us
to a conceptual fork in a conceptual road.
To the left, we conceive of free will,
or the thought we possess unbounded creativity.
To the right, we conceive of determinism,
or the thought that our creativity is bound.
To conceive, in any case, is a creative act;
that is to give birth to a concept pointing to reality.
This implies, of course, there is a difference
between reality and our ideas about it.
Are we ever completely free,
in the sense our choices are infinite?
Are we ever completely determined,
in the sense we have no choice?
Is it possible that we are free within limits,
and those limits are as much self-imposed,
as they are divinely-imposed?
Here again, our ideas imply
that the divine is separate from us.
Perhaps this separation is only an idea,
and nothing more.
Perhaps our self-imposed limits stem
from our ability to conceive
of only a limited number of choices.
Perhaps our divinely-imposed limits stem
from the Creator's wish to reserve
certain possibilities for itself.
This presumes, of course,
there is a divine "it,"
that exists separate from us.
And by the way, who are we?
Perhaps, the concept of "we" is nothing more
than our conceived need to believe
that something larger than us exists,
because we fail to realize
the full extent of our own power.
Or maybe, we are indeed powerless
without the idea there is a God,
or some divine being.
Is it possible that we co-create
our lives and the universe with the Creator,
and that each of us is a spark in the Creator's flame?
I must admit I'm not convinced
there is any separation between us and God,
or for that matter,
any separation in anything
conceived of as parts of the universe.
Perhaps there are no parts,
and perhaps we as parts don't even exist.
In which case, free will and determinism
is nothing more than a feeble attempt
to exist as separate, freestanding, beings.
Perhaps we are free to determine
only in any given moment,
and that freedom is only momentary, and
ceases to exist when that moment has passed.
Then again, are the moments we experience
separated in any way,
or is it just always now,
and time is a fiction created by our minds
allowing us to separate our thoughts?
Or perhaps we are determined to be free,
but that determination rests wholly in any moment.
Yet, for a determination to be wholly
implies it exists to a complete degree.
But if we must be determined to be free,
are we really free?
More importantly, free to be what,
and free of what?
Free to be what we think we are?
Free to be more than we think we are?
And free of what...
our illusions about being free or determined?
This poem was sparked by recent posts about free will
by Rob Quick and Trinitystar.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Darkness into Light
By Don Iannone
The night brews long,
The sun must wait,
Sing your song,
'cause it's your fate.
Listen for the three AM train,
And when it comes celebrate,
We all at times feel quite insane,
In places deep, love can't penetrate.
Lying there in the dark,
Wrapped in loneliness and despair,
Tonight you seem an easy mark,
For now, life seems so very unfair.
Questions hover like thick clouds,
Darker than the darkest night,
Rise above the somber crowds,
Don't give up without a fight.
Finally, when morning comes,
And the dark night has passed,
Your pain grows light and succumbs,
There your heart stands steadfast.
Greet the sun with a smile,
Let it fill you with soothing light,
Rest there in peace for awhile,
May your day be ever bright.
By Don Iannone
The night brews long,
The sun must wait,
Sing your song,
'cause it's your fate.
Listen for the three AM train,
And when it comes celebrate,
We all at times feel quite insane,
In places deep, love can't penetrate.
Lying there in the dark,
Wrapped in loneliness and despair,
Tonight you seem an easy mark,
For now, life seems so very unfair.
Questions hover like thick clouds,
Darker than the darkest night,
Rise above the somber crowds,
Don't give up without a fight.
Finally, when morning comes,
And the dark night has passed,
Your pain grows light and succumbs,
There your heart stands steadfast.
Greet the sun with a smile,
Let it fill you with soothing light,
Rest there in peace for awhile,
May your day be ever bright.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
On Awakening
By Don Iannone
For each of us,
life is a a process of awakening.
This process is far from linear in nature;
contrary to what our line-hungry minds tell us,
as they attempt to create boundaries where there are none.
We live each day in both dream and awakedness.
Some days we are more awake than others.
Some days the clouds we stand on are real,
and some days they are mere childhood fairy tales.
Our dreams consume us at times, and
they eat alive those we touch
in the twilight of our awakening.
The more we seek awakening,
the more it eludes us like chasing smoke.
Even when we distinguish dreams from reality,
we push awakened reality away.
And so, what is the answer?
Rest in knowing that you are already
the awakened being you seek to become.
Be that!
By Don Iannone
For each of us,
life is a a process of awakening.
This process is far from linear in nature;
contrary to what our line-hungry minds tell us,
as they attempt to create boundaries where there are none.
We live each day in both dream and awakedness.
Some days we are more awake than others.
Some days the clouds we stand on are real,
and some days they are mere childhood fairy tales.
Our dreams consume us at times, and
they eat alive those we touch
in the twilight of our awakening.
The more we seek awakening,
the more it eludes us like chasing smoke.
Even when we distinguish dreams from reality,
we push awakened reality away.
And so, what is the answer?
Rest in knowing that you are already
the awakened being you seek to become.
Be that!
Friday, November 10, 2006
Dream Leftovers on a Friday Morning
By Don Iannone
Scads of uncouth dreams last night,
that lurked, sputtered, darted, and danced
like ghosts, one-engined airplanes, gazelles, and sugar plums
through my tired old sleeping head.
Coffee cup in hand this morning, I sit like the Pink Panther,
searching for clues in fog-heaven.
Time, the joyless and stealthful vulture it is,
steals away the big pieces, leaving only fragments
of what the giant dream machine produced,
while resting on my fluffy white pillow.
As the tug of daylight yanks me into consciousness,
all the freak shows I watched while sleeping
are lost forever in the daydreams bubbling up inside me.
My day mind wants to yield to its ususual yearning for truth,
like a thirsty dog's insatiable longing for a drop of water,
but somehow dream bits,
like shrapnel from the battlefield,
embed themselves, and I can't forget them.
As I gulp down the last of my coffee, I smile
and decide today can only be a continuation of my dreams.
What else could be possible on a Friday?
By Don Iannone
Scads of uncouth dreams last night,
that lurked, sputtered, darted, and danced
like ghosts, one-engined airplanes, gazelles, and sugar plums
through my tired old sleeping head.
Coffee cup in hand this morning, I sit like the Pink Panther,
searching for clues in fog-heaven.
Time, the joyless and stealthful vulture it is,
steals away the big pieces, leaving only fragments
of what the giant dream machine produced,
while resting on my fluffy white pillow.
As the tug of daylight yanks me into consciousness,
all the freak shows I watched while sleeping
are lost forever in the daydreams bubbling up inside me.
My day mind wants to yield to its ususual yearning for truth,
like a thirsty dog's insatiable longing for a drop of water,
but somehow dream bits,
like shrapnel from the battlefield,
embed themselves, and I can't forget them.
As I gulp down the last of my coffee, I smile
and decide today can only be a continuation of my dreams.
What else could be possible on a Friday?
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Don't Fear Your Mystery
Don Iannone
As we walk our paths in life,
the unexpected greets us around every corner.
Why are we so compelled
to treat this mystery we meet
as a completely unwelcome stranger?
What makes us fail our sense of newness,
when we encounter the unknown within us?
Why do we go out of our way
to avoid our deepest dreams,
that seep deeper into the ground of our being?
Are we not better off mystified,
by our own mystification,
than be seduced by the broken-hearted lies
we tell the stranger within us?
Don Iannone
As we walk our paths in life,
the unexpected greets us around every corner.
Why are we so compelled
to treat this mystery we meet
as a completely unwelcome stranger?
What makes us fail our sense of newness,
when we encounter the unknown within us?
Why do we go out of our way
to avoid our deepest dreams,
that seep deeper into the ground of our being?
Are we not better off mystified,
by our own mystification,
than be seduced by the broken-hearted lies
we tell the stranger within us?
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Kicked Their Butts
By Don Iannone
If you smoke in Ohio,
you will now have to puff away
in the privacy of your own home.
That's what voters decided on November 7th.
People are tired enough of having Right Wing politicians
blow smoke up their asses,
let alone having to inhale the foul smoke
excreted from the mouths of cigarette smokers
in their favorite restaurants and bars.
At one time, a status symbol to smoke,
but today, nothing more than a pathetic addiction
polluting our lungs and the rest of the world.
Ohio's resounding defeat of smoking in public
will make a stink with smokers, but
the rest of us will have sweeter smelling air,
unless of course, smokers take up farting in public.
By Don Iannone
If you smoke in Ohio,
you will now have to puff away
in the privacy of your own home.
That's what voters decided on November 7th.
People are tired enough of having Right Wing politicians
blow smoke up their asses,
let alone having to inhale the foul smoke
excreted from the mouths of cigarette smokers
in their favorite restaurants and bars.
At one time, a status symbol to smoke,
but today, nothing more than a pathetic addiction
polluting our lungs and the rest of the world.
Ohio's resounding defeat of smoking in public
will make a stink with smokers, but
the rest of us will have sweeter smelling air,
unless of course, smokers take up farting in public.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Living Moment by Moment
By Don Iannone
November Tucson Sunrise
Your life is your life, but
it's also a piece of something much larger.
Your life is a gift, and
a priceless one at that, which
must be lived fully.
Your life is your creation, and
it's a direct outcome of all you think and do.
Your life is a mystery, even with
all the answers you think you have.
Your life is not a continuous,
cast-in-stone process, rather
it exists moment by moment.
Your life is not something separate
from who you are; instead
it is how your life looks
when you stare into the looking glass.
Your life neither stands before you, nor behind you;
those are illusions, causing you to forget
that your life is your life moment by moment.
By Don Iannone
November Tucson Sunrise
Your life is your life, but
it's also a piece of something much larger.
Your life is a gift, and
a priceless one at that, which
must be lived fully.
Your life is your creation, and
it's a direct outcome of all you think and do.
Your life is a mystery, even with
all the answers you think you have.
Your life is not a continuous,
cast-in-stone process, rather
it exists moment by moment.
Your life is not something separate
from who you are; instead
it is how your life looks
when you stare into the looking glass.
Your life neither stands before you, nor behind you;
those are illusions, causing you to forget
that your life is your life moment by moment.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Re-Embracing Tucson
By Don Iannone
To see yet again the olive-brown Catalina Mountains
sweetly embrace the powder blue sky
and maze-colored Sonoran desert.
To behold a fire red sunset at Gates Pass,
making my heart soar as the sun sinks,
and spreading magical stardust on the Old Pueblo.
To smell the sweet pungent sage and palo verdes
after a short afternoon rainshower.
To feel the sacred earth under my feet;
walked so long ago by the ancient ones,
and even now feel their mystical energy.
To return to Tucson one more time and re-embrace
what has long been a part of my soul.
By Don Iannone
To see yet again the olive-brown Catalina Mountains
sweetly embrace the powder blue sky
and maze-colored Sonoran desert.
To behold a fire red sunset at Gates Pass,
making my heart soar as the sun sinks,
and spreading magical stardust on the Old Pueblo.
To smell the sweet pungent sage and palo verdes
after a short afternoon rainshower.
To feel the sacred earth under my feet;
walked so long ago by the ancient ones,
and even now feel their mystical energy.
To return to Tucson one more time and re-embrace
what has long been a part of my soul.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Snowy Cabin
By Don Iannone
Something inside me longs to find warmth
in the midst of the deepest cold,
like that found in a cozy log cabin
nestled in the deep snowy woods,
where I can sit in the still darkness,
and nestle up to the blazing fire in the fireplace.
Something inside me cries out to be heard,
like the unrelenting howling wind,
that swirls and sweeps virgin snow against the windows,
and echoes in the very seat of my soul.
Something inside me seeks the infinite comfort of knowing
that I am completely snowbound,
and have no choice but to accept
whatever the snow, the night's darkness,
the howling wind, and the blazing fire can offer me.
Something inside me wants to surrender all that I hold onto,
for just one night,
in this still cabin buried in the snowy woods.
By Don Iannone
Something inside me longs to find warmth
in the midst of the deepest cold,
like that found in a cozy log cabin
nestled in the deep snowy woods,
where I can sit in the still darkness,
and nestle up to the blazing fire in the fireplace.
Something inside me cries out to be heard,
like the unrelenting howling wind,
that swirls and sweeps virgin snow against the windows,
and echoes in the very seat of my soul.
Something inside me seeks the infinite comfort of knowing
that I am completely snowbound,
and have no choice but to accept
whatever the snow, the night's darkness,
the howling wind, and the blazing fire can offer me.
Something inside me wants to surrender all that I hold onto,
for just one night,
in this still cabin buried in the snowy woods.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Adagio for a Journey to the Soul
By Don Iannone
Stirrings at the seat of my soul
draw me into the deeper waters,
To places beyond the light,
and beyond all time,
For in such places,
neither can be your guide,
I must walk,
as though death calls,
knowing there is still life,
I must follow--
what seems an unknown voice,
No words are spoken...only silence,
What good are words in this place,
that is beyond words?
What good am I,
to this place, or myself,
if I don't follow the call?
Poet's Note: This poem was composed while listening to a wonderfully deep and touching piece of music. The words flow directly from the music. Listen for yourself while you read this poem. As a suggestion, turn the volume down on your music player (MIDI file), start the music, listen for several seconds, and then read the poem aloud. Click here. (Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings)
By Don Iannone
Stirrings at the seat of my soul
draw me into the deeper waters,
To places beyond the light,
and beyond all time,
For in such places,
neither can be your guide,
I must walk,
as though death calls,
knowing there is still life,
I must follow--
what seems an unknown voice,
No words are spoken...only silence,
What good are words in this place,
that is beyond words?
What good am I,
to this place, or myself,
if I don't follow the call?
Poet's Note: This poem was composed while listening to a wonderfully deep and touching piece of music. The words flow directly from the music. Listen for yourself while you read this poem. As a suggestion, turn the volume down on your music player (MIDI file), start the music, listen for several seconds, and then read the poem aloud. Click here. (Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings)
Friday, November 03, 2006
Magic at the Water's Edge
By Don Iannone
It is the tide that gives birth to the grains of sand
...that become the beach
...that welcomes the tide's daily coming and going.
And all of this is moved by light
...with the sun by day and the moon by night.
And so is life
...as each moment is born
...as the timeless tide of love washes over it
...giving the light something to reflect upon.
And we find ourselves
...mere grains of sand on the beach of life
...created each moment by love.
By Don Iannone
It is the tide that gives birth to the grains of sand
...that become the beach
...that welcomes the tide's daily coming and going.
And all of this is moved by light
...with the sun by day and the moon by night.
And so is life
...as each moment is born
...as the timeless tide of love washes over it
...giving the light something to reflect upon.
And we find ourselves
...mere grains of sand on the beach of life
...created each moment by love.
Full Moon Buffalo Clouds
By Don Iannone
Odd buffalo-shaped clouds gallop
across the cold November sky.
I would have missed them completely
were it not for the perfect-circle full moon
glowing hauntingly bright at their backs.
Stripped of their leaves,
the naked skeleton-like trees reach into the sky,
as though searching for answers why
these near extinct clouds roam restlessly--
like my heart, which longs for peace
from its incessant wanderings.
Why does the light torment the darkness so,
and why does my heart suddenly long to be filled
by the moon and her secrets?
By Don Iannone
Odd buffalo-shaped clouds gallop
across the cold November sky.
I would have missed them completely
were it not for the perfect-circle full moon
glowing hauntingly bright at their backs.
Stripped of their leaves,
the naked skeleton-like trees reach into the sky,
as though searching for answers why
these near extinct clouds roam restlessly--
like my heart, which longs for peace
from its incessant wanderings.
Why does the light torment the darkness so,
and why does my heart suddenly long to be filled
by the moon and her secrets?
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Second Take on Streisand's The Way We Were
By Don Iannone
Untold memories
of the sort
making us remember
how we were.
Like a song
lingering in the heart
we remember
one last time
how we were.
So long
we longed
for just a taste
of the good times
and less those we opt forget.
Somewhere deep
there lies an answer--
the one we can't but hear
in our heart.
And always
there are the memories
of how we were.
By Don Iannone
Untold memories
of the sort
making us remember
how we were.
Like a song
lingering in the heart
we remember
one last time
how we were.
So long
we longed
for just a taste
of the good times
and less those we opt forget.
Somewhere deep
there lies an answer--
the one we can't but hear
in our heart.
And always
there are the memories
of how we were.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
November
By Don Iannone
November arrives,
as lustful as bare wind on slackened sails,
Determined and forceful,
as only Scorpio can be, and always
secretive and magical in her poison sting,
The circles she spins...not beginnings of anything,
and not usually the end of anything, but
a time to be thankful for everything,
Also a time to celebrate pilgrimages, and
adventures to other worlds, that lie beyond
usual boundaries, and beyond
those normal parts of ourselves, that we wear
like costume jewelry to the theatre,
Her passionate skies wide open, and yield,
as only a woman can do,
ensnaring all she receives,
Her hypnotic smile intoxicates, and befalls
the unsuspecting seeker of her dark secrets,
November is here...I hear her spinning near.
By Don Iannone
November arrives,
as lustful as bare wind on slackened sails,
Determined and forceful,
as only Scorpio can be, and always
secretive and magical in her poison sting,
The circles she spins...not beginnings of anything,
and not usually the end of anything, but
a time to be thankful for everything,
Also a time to celebrate pilgrimages, and
adventures to other worlds, that lie beyond
usual boundaries, and beyond
those normal parts of ourselves, that we wear
like costume jewelry to the theatre,
Her passionate skies wide open, and yield,
as only a woman can do,
ensnaring all she receives,
Her hypnotic smile intoxicates, and befalls
the unsuspecting seeker of her dark secrets,
November is here...I hear her spinning near.
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