Kids

Well, I have been on vacation since the 18th (and don't return until the 4th of January, I know I know...lucky me) so I've been around my boys a lot (a lot). This poem from my "Open Your Mind" collection (which was written about 9 years ago, I know I know...I am old) simplifies (mostly) what I've been fortunate enough to be around. I hope you enjoy. Happy New Year!

Kids
They shriek with laughter and jubilation,
their energy is seldom limitless.
We get exhausted just by watching them,
but they help discard any of our stress.

When we’re gloomy, they resolve the problems,
their importance is truly undefined.
They’re our elixir, our true nirvana
just for that, their love is never declined.

Sounds of children making precious moments
are meaningful like their zany crusades.
Priceless is their amusing expressions,
encased with tomfoolery serenades.

Activities are foreseen with safety,
sun and fun until their pep loses fight.
Sleep relief with quality nourishment,
some aggravation is worth their delight.

They all illustrate the value of youth
and help with accounting the ways back when.
It’s hard not to reminisce every now
hmmm…the thoughts of being a kid again.

New Years Resolutions

You knew this was coming so how bout it, what's going to be your New Years Resolution? Mine, I'm going to try my hardest to be a better father and husband. So now it's your turn, how about it?

Silly Bones

This poem is from my "Gray Matters" collection specifically about the soon to be 2 year old, my little silly bones (because he's always smiling and happy) Asher Michael. I hope you enjoy and merry Christmas to you and yours. God bless.

Silly Bones

Silly bones of goodness and joy

spirited little sprite

a precious present of a boy

so jubilant and bright.

Silly bones of goodness and joy

tiny dancer of cheer

a priceless treasure of a boy

so innocent and dear.

Blissful conductor of fun

silly bones is he,

with a benevolent face

silly bones of glee,

sweet inspiration of grace

silly bones to me,

my charming and happy son.

Silly bones of goodness and joy

doting love through each eye

a mobile motor of a boy

so dynamic and spry.

Silly bones of goodness and joy

beautiful spark of zest

a pristine wonder of a boy

so delightful and blessed.

Blissful conductor of fun

silly bones is he,

with a benevolent face

silly bones of glee,

sweet inspiration of grace

silly bones to me,

my charming and happy son.

Silly bones of goodness and joy

amazing little sprite

a stirring marvel of a boy

so enraptured and bright.

Blissful conductor of fun

silly bones is he,

with a benevolent face

silly bones of glee,

sweet inspiration of grace

silly bones to me,

my charming and happy son.

Blissful conductor of fun

silly bones is he,

with a benevolent face

silly bones of glee,

sweet inspiration of grace

silly bones to me,

my charming and happy son.

What's your favorite Christmas gift ever?

I think you knew this question was coming. If there's not just one (answer) in particular that's fine too. Mine is very easy...my second child Asher Michael. He was born on Christmas eve, but probably would have been born on Christmas day if Brandy wasn't induced. I remember that day clearly because it was very bad outside and we didn't want to take the chance of going home and then not making it back to the hospital on time. So mine was easy, how about yours?

The Specialist

This poem is from my "The Dim Light" collection and one of my inspirational ones (which I need more of). I hope you enjoy it.

The Specialist
Nobody can stop you
from loving unconditionally with your heart.
Nobody can stop you
of sometimes yearning and wanting to be apart.
Nobody can stop you
for putting in the time and becoming more wise.
Nobody can stop you
from feeling emotion and consoling your cries.

Nobody can stop you
for helping without a selfish gratuity.
Nobody can stop you
from showing all your candid ingenuity.
Nobody can stop you

from finding excuses to perform a good deed.

Nobody can stop you

from denouncing hate for the love and peace we need.

Nobody can stop you
from making friends inseparable to forget.
Nobody can stop you
from using your life for someone to benefit.
Nobody can stop you
from admiring all the hardships faced in your drive.
Nobody can stop you
for trying your hardest to live and to survive.

Nobody can stop you
from achieving recognition, your gallant shine.
Nobody can stop you
from reaching your faithful riches of the divine.

Nobody can stop you

from being the greatest person that you can be.

Nobody can stop you

from trying, nobody could, certainly not me.

What’s your favorite Christmas activity?

Sticking with the Christmas (or Winterish ie: building snowmen) theme what would be a Christmas activity you cherish doing above anything else? Building snowmen (see), baking (fill in the blank), putting up the Christmas tree/Christmas lights, going Christmas shopping, going to church on Christmas eve, giving/receiving Christmas presents, spending time with family, singing/listening (to) Christmas carols or watching Christmas movies/classic cartoons/Christmas day parade. I didn’t put remembering our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ because that’s a given (I hope). I’ll be honest and say (more like type) I haven’t gone to a Christmas eve service in quite some time (I know, I know) so my favorite activity would be watching my boys (Elijah & Asher) open up their Christmas presents. So how about you?

Darkness

This poem is from my "Open Your Mind" collection...and it's all I see when I drive to work in the morning and when I drive home. I hope you enjoy.

Darkness
The gray sky’s altercation with dusk
The moon’s solitude of the daybreak
The evacuation of nature into the night
The hour in the midst of transformation
The night’s arrival arrives.

Streetlight’s light up the darkness,
A hush coldness crawls across the land.
Day rests; its sleep begins
It’s now night’s turn of duty.

The stars sparkle like a loved one’s eye
The silence always an adequate sign
The crisp breeze inquires its domain.

Grass is showered with condensation
Insects and animals rejoice to the moonlight.

Darkness controls the living…

What's a Christmas smell to you?

What smell triggers it's Christmas time to you? Is it the smell of gingerbread men, pies and cookies baking in the stove, a fresh pine Christmas tree being put up, eggnog, scented candles, cinnamon, hot chocolate or how about the smell of "Jack Frost" mixed with wood burning from a chimney? Whatever it may be I have a feeling that there's a lot of different answers for this question. What's mine? Christmas cookies baking in the oven. How about you?

Christmas Time Again

Keeping with the last theme (question) I actually wrote a song/poem to "Christmas time is here" (there is no plagiarism here!) plus it shows how much I truly do hold the original in my heart. The cool thing about it is you can actually sing this one just like the original, so this is my official homage to the masterpiece of an original. From my "Gray Matters" collection here it is, I hope you enjoy.


Christmas Time Again

Christmas time again

Time for peace my friend

Christmas is the greatest day

I wish it would never end.

Snowfall everywhere

Gifts of love and care

Sleigh rides through the countryside

With family there to share.

Goodwill everywhere

Giving thanks and care

What a special time of year

As we praise the Lord with prayer.

Christmas time again

Hope and bliss my friend

Today is for our savior

Christ was born in Bethlehem.

Today is for our savior

Christ was born in Bethlehem.

Children laugh and sing

Joyous caroling

Building snowmen in the snow

Rejoicing and worshipping.

Warmth replaces chill

Everything is still

Chocolate by the fireplace

Candles line the windowsill.

Tummies are all fed

Almost time for bed

Soon we’ll be in slumbered sleep

While dreams of glee fill our head.

Christmas time again

Trust in faith my friend

Today if for our savior

Christ was born in Bethlehem

Today is for our savior

Christ was born in Bethlehem.

What's a Christmas staple to you?

The time has come upon us again...Christmas!!! The most important holiday ever...and also the most exploited/commercial holiday ever. I won't get started on that (maybe another time) instead I want to ask you what's the one thing, whether it be a movie, cartoon, hearing a Christmas song, reading a Christmas book/poem or putting up a Christmas tree and decorations that gets you in the mood for Christmas? Staples of Christmas time to me are (mostly the same with everyone too I bet) "A Christmas Story", "It's a Wonderful Life", "A Christmas Vacation", "Miracle on 34th Street", Rudolf, Frosty, Charlie Brown, The Grinch, endless Christmas carols and "Twas the Night before Christmas"... Personal favorites to me are "A Christmas Story", "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer", "Frosty the Snowman", " The Grinch that stole Christmas" and my absolute favorite Christmas song: "Christmas time is here" by the Vince Guaraldi Trio off  "A Charlie Brown Christmas" soundtrack/cartoon. And last, but certainly not least the birth of our loving Savior Jesus Christ. Whether or not he was truly born (or conceived) on December 25th we won't really know until we get the chance to ask him ourselves (God willing). So now I ask you, what's yours?

Also I would like to thank Diane and Karen for your kind words it means a lot. God bless.

Fortified Fortresses

This poem is from "The Dim Light" collection and deals with a subject I've had since I can remember. It's classified as a "distress or uneasiness of the mind"...anxiety or more specifically for me social anxiety. I hope you enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Fortified Fortresses

Scattered amongst the broken variants

is a vessel, of a man, in a shell.

Echoing weepy words worded and heard;

you know there’s a hell, this is where you’ll dwell.

He won’t leave, but doesn’t want to be left,

dampened sagas and glimpses implicate.

The forum on his demeanor is lithe

and just fragile enough to indicate.

Watch for the marquee matinee unfold

in the backdrop of ill equipped tidbits.

It will not grow old, so let it be told,

he feels at ease in the land of misfits.

In close quarters without neutral borders

frolics a man with a begotten soul.

With urgent excerpts of hurt to exert

he knew it was best to live in a hole.

Clasping together a will and a way

he composed a vow to seek assistance.

Enshrined was the fear of a new frontier,

but he desired to have an existence.

Thanksgiving Memories (when young)

What memories do I remember about my Thanksgiving’s of the past? Well there are several to choose from, but mostly I remember it being held at my parent’s house with me watching football, waiting for my grandma (DeCarlo) and my aunt and uncle (Day) to arrive. I remember we ate at the dining room table (which was off limits the rest of the year) and falling asleep a short while after eating dinner. I remember sometimes we played cards (31) and eating chocolate pie for dessert by the fireplace or kerosene heater. What do you remember?

The Day Gave Way

This poem is from "The Dim Light" and is sort of a hybrid of free verse w/some rhyme. I hope you enjoy.

The Day Gave Way

The pulsating ripples on the ocean’s blanket
subside occasionally and accordingly.
Waves waver like the movement of a rowing boat
as inhabitants of the great mass drift unfazed.
Ragged rocks and ancient coral wait to ambush
while hiding underneath the unforgiving brush.
An assortment of birds fly bye, sprawling carefree.

Ships and boating vessels startle the world beneath.

I feel a driving urgency compelling me

to chase the exploration of my untapped mind.

Lord almighty sees Earth’s reflections from up top.
The sky’s painted with foggy aqua-fresh colors.
Is this sense of clarity just an illusion
that happens to be making its own conclusion?
Dawn appears to me persuasively bright today.
Pea soup covered and concealed the surrounding air.
Vision wasn’t crisp but the air was refreshing.
The sun responded to its captive audience
by playing many playful games of peak-a-boo.
And the whole entire expedition meshed in sync.

The mystique’s ambition was clear and contagious.
The day gave way for refuge, it was infectious.
It inspired me to seize more than to stake my claim;
it inspired me the way an omen does the same.

My transition was a souvenir for the day.

I inherited the epitome of light,

a landmark embodied in mystical splendor.
The day gave way to my inner inspiration.

Maybe the day’s intentions were more intended.

Maybe it was destiny, maybe, just maybe…

The Great Debate: Secular music vs. Christian music

My friend Steve and I have debated over this subject a few times (always in a civil realm, of course) and many good points (+ opinions) have flown back and forth. His theory is: he only listens to Christian music and will only listen to Christian music stating secular music is not worth listening to. Now as someone who only listens to 1 radio station (Air1) I have no problem with that except (cue suspenseful music)…just because an artist or band doesn’t play Christian music do we assume they are not believers or write inspiring songs as well? Some secular artists might be more of a faithful follower than a Christian artist, but if we refuse to listen to them because they are not labeled as “Christian Artists” who’s in the wrong? My theory is: use your own discretion when you listen to music, if you listen to something that riles you up and makes you want to hurt someone, chances are that’s not the best music for you to be listening to. I think we all need as much positivity in our lives as we can possibly get, but as long as the music doesn’t “change” you (or you let it change you) I say go ahead and listen to what you like. Now one could argue I am just defending the fact that I listen to Coldplay, Linkin Park, Muse, Interpol and others to which I can’t disagree with them. But I also listen to Red, Kutless, Tenth Avenue North, Thousand Foot Krutch, Pillar, Plumb, Group 1 Crew, Sanctus Real and many more so I say: use your own discretion when you listen to music. I know in my case sometimes I need or yearn to hear a certain kind of song that might not be Christian. Am I any less of a Christian than Steve because I listen to secular music as well? Is Steve any less of a Christian than me for judging that all secular music is bad? I don’t think so...what’s your opinion on it all?

A Golden Oldie

This poem I’d say dates back 9 or10 years ago. It’s from my “Open Your Mind” collection of poems (my first collection). I wrote this as an open letter of sorts to my girlfriend at the time (now my wife), for I was still hurting from past relationships. Much like Pasteurization, my trust is a timely and difficult process, but an extremely imperative doctrine (if you will) to the makeup of me. Even reading it now I can revisit the emotions of way back then. I hope you enjoy it.

Pasteurize
I’m sorry, but don’t get too close,
you’re not permitted in my vault.
How’d you get that skeleton key?
In fairness, it wasn’t my fault.
I’d rather not embrace that thought
it pulsates a wound oh too deep.
I transform into my facade
rather than just going to sleep.
I don’t want the despair again
so I question any interest.
I can’t distinguish real from fake
low tolerance, what’s to suggest?
Come close, but you should watch your step
my heart’s protected by judgment.
It’s tiresome always on my guard,
I resigned without my consent.
I reformed my way to reason
inflicted, I’ll try to adjust.
Please, just grant me a little time
and in return, you’ll have my trust.

Influential Influences

Something always clicked with me whenever I read any of Dr. Seuss’ books. The way he rhymed was different and fresh…it didn’t follow the “perfect rhyme” outline. His characters were so fresh and the stories that lead these characters always had a meaning. One of the reasons (influences) I wrote “Blair the Bear” was because of him.

Poetry itself is another machine. My greatest influence is a man that had and will forever more have a “dark cloud” over his name, his poetry is “dark”, but unique if Hitchcock (another favorite) is the father of the thriller genre of movies then Mr. Edgar Allen Poe is the grandfather of the thriller short story. He wasn’t afraid to take his writing to depths that people/critics/essayists deemed “taboo” or “off-limits”. He explored the mind of darkness, but with an elegance that has its own place with the greatest poets/writers in history. Several of my poems are influenced by him and will continue to be.

So my question is: who are your influences not just with writing (if you write), but with life in general?

The Gauntlet

This poem is from my second compilation of poetry “The Dim Light”. The last three (The Battle…, Elijah Robert…& Asher Michael…) were from my third “Gray Matters”. I honestly don’t know (or remember) why I was so intent (some say obsessed) on writing this. I just had in my mind an ironic tragedy and this is what came out, I hope you enjoy it.

The Gauntlet
Nothing had ever fazed his faze-less face,
particular phases failed to crack an interest.
Depression scaled up bare walls to the base,
letting insanity outside to be witnessed.

So day after day, he would curse aloud

at himself and at anything he resented.
He would carry with him a darkened cloud
which was evident and clearly represented.

He never once thought that his daily smokes
would bring repercussions too massive to believe.
But all the while death rode on silent spokes
waiting for enough damage to go and retrieve.

When she was diagnosed, he vowed to quit,
but it was too late, the damaged had quickly spread.
She grew weak, his nightmare…an exhibit,
he longed desperately for his own death instead.

His wife urged him to stop; she bid advice
so he tried and tried until he was out of tries.
But she had ended up paying the price,
because cancer confiscated his only prize.

Suicide wouldn’t let them reunite
so everyday after he would become bolder.
He took chances deemed careless, or not right

and the blame had laden the weight of a boulder.

And right up until the end of his days
the blame was still buried inside of his burden.
The burden’s blaze engulfed a vacant glaze
to which he wore until the fall of the curtain.

The Passion for more Passion

Here’s the question of the day: With the success of “The Passion of the Christ” would you like to see more of these movies made? I am actually surprised that more movies (from the bible) haven’t been made and released yet. I think if they are portrayed as “close” to what the bible states (I guess a consensus understanding with consideration to different interpretations some straight-forward others not so much) it would be enjoyable to see. Personally I would like to see a updated version of the “Ten Commandments” a thorough story on David (no bias), Noah’s Ark and the story of Joseph (Jacob’s). What would you want to see made?

Asher Michael Pasquale

Now, to be fair I will be posting my youngest son's poem next (that's all they need is more rivalry) which is in the same realm as Elijah's. Enjoy!

Asher Michael Pasquale

An angelical ray of light

sparkling through a dreary night

hardy rock, with a lustrous glow

earnest elf always on the go

roving to retrieve all in sight.

Mighty engine sharp as a sword

ingrained inside of our heart’s core

christened in the love of the Lord

hearty star, who’s heard with a roar

a determined force full of coos

equipped to use his smile to woos

lamp of life spreading winsome hues.

Pillar of love whom we cherish

a virtue blooming with thunder

splendid souls are comprised from this

quaint and jolly muse of wonder

unique in his warmth and content

as is his laugh and playful way

limitless one-hundred percent

every day we thank God and pray.

Elijah Robert Pasquale

Here is my next poem (It's pretty much straight forward) "Elijah Robert Pasquale" about my eldest boy. I should probably note also that I am horrible at editing (so any mistakes anyone notices please let me know) and a lot of the poems that I will share with you are from (some) 9 years ago up until now. They cover a vast variety of subjects and styles. I will warn you some of them are very personable and very different from "Blair the Bear", some are dark, some are funny, some are encouraging, some are about God and some are quite random. I do not swear or use offensive language. Any comments regarding any of my poems are strongly suggested and encouraged. I truly hope you enjoy my poetry, God bless.

Elijah Robert Pasquale

Energetic bundle of joy

lovingly loved, our little boy

into this world you were conceived

just and righteous as we believed

a smile so charming and sincere

he wears the hope we all hold dear.

Remember we’ll be here for you

open armed to console you too

be yourself and you’ll be alright

everyday you shine light on life

roaming around on hands and knees

the world is filled with God’s beauty.

Peaceful cherub who we cherish

a blessing in which we are blessed

splendid souls are so contagious

quaint and quiet, but full of zest

unique are his beautiful eyes

as is his laugh and playful way

lively and bright as a sunrise

everyday we thank God and pray.

What is a great poem?

I was once fortunate enough to have a English/Literature teacher review and give me her impression of my poetry. Now mind you she also was a poet who wrote only in a free verse style (you'll see the value of that sentence soon). So we met and conversed about my poems and such...(I personally enjoy writing poetry in rhyme, but I did and still do dabble with the free verse style.) After a brief conversation I found something was quite peculiar about her comments and notes. Wouldn't you know the only poems she "liked" were the few I wrote in the free verse style. Which brings me to my question: What (besides opinion and at times a bias) is a great poem? This is a topic that probably boggles the mind of many. When judges look at your credentials what do they look for? If you have none do they just cast you aside? Why does one have to pass away in order to get any recognition and appreciation for their life's work?

Queries about queries

Has anyone ever sent out a query letter to a publishing house or an agent? They say your query has to be near perfect (picture a first impression) to "grasp" the reader/agent/publisher to want to read more of your stuff. Not too much pressure right? In the world of literature today it seems to me that knowing someone ("on the inside") is crucial to getting noticed. Like I told Diane (dianeestrella.com) I sent out 52 or so query letters to agents...so far I've had 16 responses and all but 1 was pretty much "thank you, but not for me". The 1 wanted to read my story so now I wait and wait and wait. It's hard to "break through" in the world of literature, but for a Children's writer it seems at times almost impossible.  But even though the odds are incredibly stacked, I won't give up and I hope neither will you. I truly want to write for a living and God knows...so we'll see if it is meant to be. What are your thoughts about the whole process of being a writer?

Also every week a will share a poem, the subjects will vary...but any input or comments are always welcomed. This is my entry to the Rose and Thorn Journal. I will try to be interesting and update my blog as much as I can, I give Diane credit for always having something to talk about and being interesting. Thank you

"The Battle of The Haves and Have Nots"

Allies are allied and relied upon the flanks

with their swords and shields prepared to enter the stage.

Catapults are strategically positioned 

as valiant men stoically bide to engage.

Siege equipment is stationed away to the rear,

archers are placed in precise vantage points to fire.

Mounted stallions wait to stampede with saddled spears

death and bloodshed are the wages of wars desire.

Hundreds of muskets have been drawn from amongst us,

bayonets are rehearsed for close quarter combat.

Our line is an impenetrable formation

rouse the spirits and initiate the attack.

Sound the battle cry and keep your pistols close by

be steady and make ready for the trials of war

Canons are equipped with primed men groomed to defy,

above the battlefield is where the vultures soar.

Over the ridge lie the opposition’s forces

tanks and humvees scour the ground with noisy thunder.

Marching soldiers carry automatic rifles,

famished men scurry to lust and feed their hunger.

Spy planes estimate perceived locations achieved

fighter jets and bombers encircle the gray sky.

Battleships lock on to coordinates received

and one by one, the poor and the middle class die.

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