Long Puccini Poems

The three enigmas of Turandot

The well of souls run deep in fabled lands of old.
Of China's ancient dynasty and the lost Great Tartary, 
a ballad of love and loss that must be told.

The Emperor's daughter,...

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To tell the truth,
I was no fan of opera, in my youth...

When did it come...?   That turning point....?
I do not know, ........
           ...

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Her name was Madame Butterfly;
   true love embraced her one fine day.
By sea, he came, neath bright, blue sky,
   on Navy ship from far away.

Love, at first sight, it was for...

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Oh, I dreamed so of marriage when I was a boy,
Of a girl I could cherish, might love my whole life!
In the 'first' grade, a girl (my first love) called me "Roy," (1)
Of course, I...

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Born in New York of Italian descent,
From my childhood and beyond through the years,
Deep in my soul live the sounds of lament—
The drama of romance, fear, death and tears.

The power, the movements, fill up my...

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No Maria -
when a Bernstein motif lingers.
No rosary beads -
they'll simply slip 
through bourbon-stained fingers.
God carved the seven continents,
with skillful guise, 
and Puccini cries.
Adam's rib was imminent
when his chest burst splinters
into a scorned dodger's eyes.
No...

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The murky rolling waves subject
to the whims of the February's wind, 
far above the secluded lighthouse;
the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds,
leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors...
but the geese and seagulls can't continue their...

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Born in New York of Italian descent-
from childhood on- lasting still all these years,
Deep in my soul live the sounds of lament-
The drama of romance, fear, death, and tears.

The power, the movements, fill up my...

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Walls breathe insistent hunger,
red as the inside of a split pomegranate,
richer still where the tallow has melted,
slick as the fat from a burnt offering. 

Scarpia does not eat.
He savors—sounds of gristle 
snapping in the next...

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Dark brier grow thick in Cleveland,
thorny tendrils thrive.
Clapperboard homes slack and linger,
neglected yards grow thin grey bones.

A vaporous wave passed over Lake Erie.
None noticed the lightless seeds in the sunlight,
but little girls went missing.

Whole neighborhoods...

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A damp and dank November morn
A mist hangs over the sea
Another bad night of tossing and turning
Feeling emotional and lonely you see
Then right on cue as if to say 
Sit back 
Relax 
Let your tension...

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A radio aired an awful auld aria,
Astounding all my aged aural edifices 
In eerie aura of araucaria trees
Aching angrily in a loud typhonic breeze.

My brain wanted to burrow to escape the pain
Of sounds as a...

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My Secret Place

When the world is too much with me
And I long to fly away
I lay back in contentment
And listen to music play
Rachmaninov is my God
Puccini makes me cry
The symphony is my home
For the Opera...

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