Poetry: Mario Vitale

Mario Vitale

Upon River's Edge

could I see you in the shelter
could you calm me in my dreams
you wander awful closely
piercing skin

I skipped a rock on water's edge
rippled through the wake of day
calmness to add the fiddle to play
down upon the river's edge

next to to common hue
release the tension stand in one accord
deliverance to soon
the falling of each member

left in order to dine
crfted in a great design
the fallen leaves now begin to climb.

Setu, August 2018

Mario Vitale

Mario Vitale

I was born in 1970 Bristol hospital.
A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success,
As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act.
Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church.
In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood"
Where I had the lead role as the Narrator,
I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989,
Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long,
Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School,
After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com
As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform,
My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing,
Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com...
I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979,
Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine.
My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts.

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Poetry: Mario Vitale

Mario Vitale

Thanksgiving Dinner

Home for the holiday from New Orleans,
with Mother and Father at the tiny
drop leaf, brown rosewood, mahogany
table with the gold, grinning claw feet;
Father, choler- red-in the-face, short-
sleeved white shirt and cane, says the blessing
as Mother brings in the turkey and cranberry.
Then Mother asks, " Won't you have more ?' and father :
"Do you think Moll Flanders was a whore ?"

(I have suffered and bleached my hair blond. )
I am silent before their replies.
Mother sighs. "I can scarce speak to her."
And Father, too, quotes Shakespeare. (I am thin
as paper and the rose- colored bowl
of blown glass sitting on the silver stand,
half- filled with water. )

Waiting for you to find a place

Once I had this fanciful idea of recording
the silence in each great cathedral
and marketing these...

As you pull open the worn and squeaky door
there's a strange moment of apprehension as if
you're not sure what will greet you - a fullness
or an emptiness; a football-stadium roar
or a silence; an earfull of praise or
a mindfull of questions...

but the first step inside, and a silent gasp -
it's bigger inside than outside...
and the sound of your steps soars to the high
indescribably glorious roof like a
small bird looking for an escape.

so that you'd like to sing a note or two
to hear them repeated by those
invisible angels of the echo, waiting poised
in the stoniness of the walls and roof
like the mountain cliffs and valleys
from whence the stone was dragged
by devotion.

and you feel an intruder into the space of history
waiting for you to find your place.

How wonderful if at this moment, history unreeled;
played itself backwards; and as the years rolled back,
the cathedral nave would fill with the quietly respectful
devout. Then back again, and the voices would be more raw,
rich with the earth they'd just been tending.

Would the praise, to our ears, sound more heartfelt?
we'll never know.
Reel back again to that almost
unimaginable scene - the walls rising, still part built;
the clambering masons, chisels singing on the stone,
lifted only a little lower than the angels
on wooden planks on slender wooden scaffold,
the squeal of pulleys, the sudden silence of tools
and the call for the master mason;
and up there where the roof is still blue-grey sky,
the occasional bird from an optimistic nest
built the year before in the part-built spire, fluttering,
searching for a crumb or two from
the mason's heady meal

as birds may wheel again over half-there walls
when please God no the roof falls in and
respectful visitors walk down the tidy gravelled path
where once the aisle was walked, bowed head and singing,
but now so neatly grassed where pews and praise once stood,
remarking out aloud or in their heart
how the silence is, still, living, there.

Hampton Beach 

The smell of fresh fry doe
Time had elapsed playing at the casino
Fresh lobster with a side order of fries
Those spacious wonderful sky's
Down at the shell the continental were playing
A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting
Flip flops and the sound of laughter
A playground for kids in the middle
The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head
Fire works in the midnight air with flames

The Poor Man

Today I stand on the outskirt of town
shiny brow
take out the towel
a decorated mast
to overcome each task
the gift of liquid courage
lines being drawn in the sand
the poor man
distance himself on the street
pan handle his way
curiosity sets in
someone hands him a big ten
equate logic for fear
all draw nearbegs for his next meal
unusual sex appeal
columns of sand when to understand

Dancing upon a limb 

remember me among the sea so faithfully we must agree

through shadows peak along the path in the forest
a spotted owl in a tree on the path a grey fox
caress a lavender flower the braided tapestry of the sun
shouts of laughter from within a pull of the heart

dancing through a limb on the tree must humbly agree
the brigade of silence attacks the meager senses
alone I sat once again within my thoughts
thinking of that spotted owl how it quivers

the cordial tap of dander fast approaching
with cosmic wings caught in flight

Setu, April 2018

Pillars Of Thought

Mario Vitale 

you base your reality on the external

paying little need or homage for what's internal

one soul soars while the other one burns

in this life you got to wait your turn

getting caught up in the mix

its all a cheap thrill fly by the pan type of fix

a challenge to be free is a question of time

why does one equate logic for fear

for i shed a single tear to help numb the inner pain

let your words be truthful & to the point

we still haven't made a single dent on society

looking to someone to set us free

we have chosen ill but faded rhymes

its the changing of the times

people will let you in but take you just so far

it all come don't to choice so no one can boast

like a lost seagull still found by heading back to the coast

teach your children well in there education

not to take a break on any long awaited vacation

we have to live between are means

listen to the voice of reason

its the changing of the season

to what we all have to be dealing

does this logic sound appealing

deep inside we have a reason to live

a willing chance by which to humbly forgive

yet its based on the way that you live

you must become selfless in a very selfish existence

pardon my french you need some confidence

this in order to make a dent on the real values we support

pillars of thought with hearts beating in the night

it is your right to share & care

Setu, February 2018

Poetry: Mario Vitale

Mario Vitale 

Stay Optimistic

Stay optimistic, even if you're
facing a set back. There are
many stages we go through in
our lives, but we manage, to get
back, on track. All good things
are possible, if you have
confidence in yourself and do as
much as you can. No one has
accomplished anything, in one day,
there has to be, a plan! Establishing
a routine, takes time, but it can lead
to many big opportunities, down the
road. At this point, you're bound to
find a way, to unburden, your heavy
load!
Let the good times outshine the bad times
Let the laughter drown out the tears
Let the light chase away the darkness including all your fears...
Turn your pain into strength and smile for you are alive, making all things possible but only possible if you try.

Janis

So much heart so much love so much need
Janis Joplin I cry to watch your heart bleed
What a talent you brought to the world
Time has seen your legend unfold
How sad that your life was lost to the abyss
Of uncertainty and need, oh how you are missed
What intellect, what talent and a future untold
Such a beautiful woman and so in need of love
It was like a crucifixion to see this talent shoved
By ignorant fools who couldn’t understand
The cruelty when you were young and you so grand
Anyone who had a heart could have saved you from your fate
But when people found their heart it was already too late
She wove her daisy chains
until winter spent the wildflowers
with its will. She was too young
to know that spring would come
and they would bloom again,
so she caught the stars
at midnight and wore them in her hair
though no one saw them…Just her
and the moon streaming in the window.
Alone there with songs to sing
and dreams to dream, she must have thought
this is living — and this is dying.

The Secret Place

alone
in the silence of my thoughts
pitter patter of soft sandal feet
a candle lit in the corner of my room
thinking
time well spent in thought
sullen brevity
my soul permeates sweet humble affection
adoration

whispers
through the vortex
the peace that passes understanding
beauty in sullen brevity
all of life seems to be a mystery
the knocking of the door
think back
to a time well spent in thought
captivated by love
love is the vibrant essence of my inner existence
shun the resistance in every circumstance

we shall meet here daily
to ponder are togetherness
nestled in the very fabric of our existence
the secret place
away from the hustle and bustle
shadows block the space
a beacon of light to a hurting world in need of love
those memories
the moments lived out in twilight
aura

a challenge to be set free is a question of time
still dig much deeper then ever before
the touch of the hand that captivated a smile
the vast light of illumination
to bask in the vast expanse between space & time
a real reason to believe
a face to shine
smile
the days end
or has it just begun
we are in search of something
but in heaven's name what?

Epiphany

It clings to the cliffed shore,
to the wintered face of the thistle path,
to the fingers of the old man's glove
as he waves his memory homeward

In that breath between come and go
she moves up from the bay;
gold turns her stride,
the line of her dress,
the soft sea pulling at her feet

When he reaches out
and the frail birds fly
and the sun and the sky
have married deep into the sea, it clings

Even as his shadow threads retreat,
it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist

Morning Side

whispers
we drift through the vale of tears
my soul permeates with the reluctance of taste
through a variation of a dream
water with the basin the fallen vegetation
walk through the garden alone with my underware
not a care in the world until
heard a whisper of a stranger's voice
falling emblems marked on a blotted page yet clearly intact
nature has a way to waken one's inner senses
to lay down all defenses
filter through the deranged mind of an angry man
like a cold clap in the dark he let the spark to what I needed to know
morning side with the eclipse of the sun having tainted my inner vision
priceless moments of jewels as if nuggets swaying in the breeze
a challenge to be free is a question of time


time is on are side
yet time doesn't ever stop for anyone
we run further but to what?
the drawn out tapestry of hidden exploits appear
for I shed a single tear to help numb the inner pain
not having her in my arms was driving me insane
cross bones with switch blades bask in the vast expanse of the dream
the stranger appears one last time
this time to offer me a hand
a chance at which to truly understand
perhaps this is the place where Morrison had tred
lines being drawn in the sand
hopefully someday I will understand?
the true message of one's inner soul
yet for now I must let things go

Setu November 2017