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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
While walking amongst an angry crowd,
trying to escape the turmoil surrounding me,
Hope appeared. I took her arm;
She guided me through the chaos.
In the sea of mayhem, we were separated, I lost sight of her.
Frantic and overwhelmed; dizzy with the shifting of the crowd,
a small opening appeared; I maneuvered my way towards it.
As I stumbled, the opening changed direction;
an exit pattern laid out before me.
Focusing on the exit, I realized I had not lost Hope,
she was clearing the way for me.
With the roar of the crowd behind me,
Hope and Peace stood before me.
Originally written: June 2016 for Paula Dyer after the tragic loss of her husband, John Dyer.
Date: Jan. 7, 2022 entered in Brian Strand Poetry Contest
Placed 1st in contest
Date: Feb. 3, 2022 entered in Hope Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mohan Chutani
Placed 3rd in contest
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear
A choir of angels soft and sweet,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
Eternity beckons, drawing you near,
Strains of harmonious refrains that repeat,
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear.
Worries and regrets no longer will appear,
Heaven has prepared an eternal royal seat,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
Rest my dear, put aside your doubt and fear,
Though shadows fall, you rise and claim your feat,
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear.
Regret no more, the lonely years,
You will be home, an eternal place, replete,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
A vision shrouds the room and it appears
There is a table being prepared, a blessed fete,
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
Date: March 1, 2022
For: Original Villanelle Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L. Milton Hankins
Placed 10th in contest
Was the Poem of the Day (POTD)on March 3rd, 2022
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
My thoughts like wafts of vapors,
surround me in my dreams,
shifting like the tide,
the ebb and flow along shores seams.
Awakened by a hazy dawn, drifting
in clouds of sleep,
images appear like ethereal vestiges;
emerge, tease, fade, and seep.
Like a poetic puzzle, scattered pieces
lie in wait, for their place in the whole,
a vision that words express;
images from the depth of a passionate soul.
Date: July 30, 2022
For: Brian Strand Premiere Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Placed 8th in contest
POTD on Aug. 1st, 2022
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
The sun breaks through the grey morning mist,
Winter boughs glazed in shimmering light,
Dew drops glisten, caress and kiss,
Birds chirp in the thicket, before they take flight,
Quietly the sun slips into repose, arousing the portal of night
For: Winter Quintain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
Placed 3rd in contest
December 29th, 2021
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2021
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
Horses wearing woolen coats
of red, green and grey,
Gather round their daily bale of early morning hay.
Nodding, blissful heads, musing as they munch;
The earth beneath their steady hooves feel the snowy crunch.
Corralled behind sprawling, mended, wooden fences,
Curious they gaze with acute and focused senses.
Nostrils wide, clouds of breath, circling in rings,
Listen closely, hear them softly neigh and sing.
February 4, 2017
March 14, 2024 6th place win in Brian Strands #1294 Poetry Contest
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2017
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
Undulating veils, gray and gauzy
Seducing hills and valleys,
Whispering secrets in the morning mist.
Received POTW!
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2021
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
Hear the soft coo-cooing that faithful love imparts,
mourning doves, sharing their beating hearts.
On lofty eaves, build nests of winter pine and twigs,
Keeping their eggs close to their breasts.
Oval shaped, snowy white, they hatch and come alive;
A brood grows and will survive.
Plump bodies speckled in gray and black;
Take flight with fanned out tails that reveal a fringe of white.
The warm summer is nearing its’ end, Mourning Doves and fledglings
Together, will ascend; blue skies headed for the border of Mexico.
March 6, 2022
For: Form-I-Imagism – New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Placed 3rd in contest
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
reflections of life
sanctified with God's glory
the price of freedom
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
I am not sure whether I am missing you or that you are missing life~
In Spring you like to smell the grass.
The flowers,
oh, how they engage the hillside with splendor;
bobbing their heads like 5th Avenue bonnets.
A new beginning.
It is in the Spring I will remember you most.
The Summer gives way to week-end trips,
escaping the futile task of financial survival;
off to the country, in touch with nature.
Long walks, looking back only to see how far you’ve come.
Montauk, the beach and surf lure you.
The quiet and still speak to you.
You are one with the sea.
The family picnics far from picnic fare, we feasted.
Appetites abolished, we chat
to the rhythm of the family glider~
Clickety-clack,clickety-clack, back and forth,
it will be empty without you.
It is in the summer I will remember you most.
In Fall you admire the vibrant colors of the trees;
crimson, burnt umbers and golds.
You lift your face to the warmth of the sun
and feel the gentle breeze that serenades you.
The ghouls and goblins will come to my door,
I will see you there, trying to scare me,
I pretend to be frightened by your scariest voice
and most vile expression...Ha Ha~fooled yah!
On Thanksgiving I prepare a turkey
with all the trimmings, traditional and not.
Your seat is empty,
your glass of brandy untouched.
Are you late again?
It is in the fall I will remember you most.
There is a chill in the air;
a briskness that clings to one’s soul.
Strong winds blow, the snow flies.
You are wearing your beret, and inside your
well worn leather boots, your feet are bare.
You are drawn to the jubilant voices
at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine,
It is Christmas Eve.
The tree is trimmed; the stockings are full.
You travel from the city limits to the country side.
I see you standing at my door,
bearing boxes of luscious Italian pastries.
You are late, but I am glad you have come,
if only in my fondest memories.
The snow grows deeper; January is upon us~
Happy Birthday!
It is in the winter I will remember you most.
Memories of my Brother, Peter Thomas Scangarello
He was a devotee and actor of the theatre.
Walked to the beat of a different drum~
lived hard and died young.
Born: January 28, 1945
Died: September 13, 1990
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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Paulette Calasibetta Poem
a seed of passion
fostered in a womb of warmth~
a tiny heartbeat
Received the honor of POTW
Copyright © Paulette Calasibetta | Year Posted 2022
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