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Frank Guglietta Poem
stuck on a
branch
stuck on a
thought
stuck here,
no key to
let out
just a whole dug
by an elusive
voice
straighten the damn shovel
the whole
wont fill
only an empty face
that can feel
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
Highest on food chain
but we still starve
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2014
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Frank Guglietta Poem
History always repeats.
This globe produces
same story,
just different bodies
acting out the play
---
I write,
not to plead for the
always invisible change,
but to keep
myself sane.
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
Caving in
as my mountain
begins to fold
A mountain that was so steep,
tall, wide, and proud
has crumbled.
Caved in
My mountain has gone,
not gone as
other things go
but gone.
Leaving no trace
As my mountain
turns flat,
once admired
Is now walked
all over.
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
Tuesday.
Th sun is faint, but our precious breeze
is alive.
An afternoon of walking.
Walking and feeling and seeing.
An unmarked route around Hermosa Beach.
My only chore of the afternoon was to the bank.
Plenty of pedestrians sharing the sidewalk, cyclists rolling
on the streets.
People walking dogs,
dogs walking people.
Fast pacers, slow street crossers.
Cars in a hurry, always with the windows up,
I don't understand that.
Isolation of the earth around,
headphones in, loud talkers, speedy fingers texting a crucial
message. Blocking the senses, a gift often taken for granite.
I walk uphill and down, hearing the tide brush up on sand.
Many walk with company, chirping to each other the days trivial problem
I have been trying to refrain from my cynical judgement.
Hesse rights on not being able to control the world around, and just to
be apart of it and embrace.
I agree.
I stop at my favorite bench to read.
Freezing the ongoing time,
love to be frozen with no expectations.
Geoff Nicholson, " The Lost Art of Walking "
I enjoy his words.
Inspiring me to walk more but the notion has always
been there. To write you must absorb,
absorb your mind, surroundings, energy.
laugh at the child telling her parents she has a
red lollipop, and her brother has a bruee one.
Listen to the homeless stringing their guitars.
I sit and I read by the coast, occasionally popping my eyes out
to catch the stimuli.
I wonder what others think when they walk.
The strand not so popular today.
I walked and enjoyed my solitude of thoughts and
convseration in my head.
I don't know what I wish to achieve on these walks,
serenity is one,
maybe seeing a shy girl reading is another
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2014
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Frank Guglietta Poem
to see the hills
and tree's with palm
to feel the ocean on
my nose
to drink the wine
and rest on a bar
to write in the streets
but sleep in a room
to ride the bus absorbing
the pain
to stare at women and
their legs
to laugh as my buddy,brother,friend
coughs from the joint.
to drink for the cheers
of being alive
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
the day is trivial
the night is tranquil.
all critters crawl out
of corners in
the dark
awake is being alive,
solitude is harmonious.
I woke my dog up, he stared up with
the laziest eyes, fighting to keep them
open
like he might miss something.
all the freaks poke around
at night
life is ample,
even when I am
alone,
in a room
or crowded in a bar
insomnia slithers
through your spine,
just laying
motionless.
with a circus playing
behind the curtain,
so deceiving to be a
puritan
to the religion of money
just give me a couch,
...maybe a few books.
and paper to portray
my mind
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
to live
is to eventually die
but live while
you are alive
dieing for a piece
of paper is not living
better start
digging your hole
turning your back
for paper
is as slaughtering
horses
filling your ears with
gold and
body with fur
is filling only
vanity
to live
is to die,
but die with dignity
knowing you didnt
live for the green
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
Turning away from the bar
needing a smoke with Jonny
strolling through
Being glanced at
by older women
Imagining our faces
starring at them in bed
Our tight bodies rocking theirs
soon to meet
a pair of
47 year olds
One wearing red hair
another brown
Their tight lips
on their hot wine glasses
Our dancing earlier
quivered their legs
Conversation that
made them want more
Telling us we were the
smoothest guys they’ve ever seen
“Hunny were Frankie and Jonny”
While their wedding rings
look invisible in the night
I receive a kiss
offering to seek more wine
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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Frank Guglietta Poem
energy claims through
veins jolt,
ridges on skin construct
my canvas gravitates thoughts,
thoughts are
always silent,
whispers never leak
my canvas is an angel
swooping to endure
ears stay alert
scanning all vibrations.
Hands steady
mind always
clinging
searching,judging
innate reasoning
my canvas is sensitive,
collecting all flying
motion
my canvas is never blank
sometimes meshing
sometimes clashing
I bleed energy,
although absorb enough to sustain.
Copyright © Frank Guglietta | Year Posted 2013
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