Sunday, April 24, 2011

Two poems by Joseph DiLella

Hope and Misery

are two states
of mind and body
that consume us
one wishing for better days
the other enduring
the current ones.

Haiti the land of 7.0 earthquakes
poverty, disease and exploitation
where packing together mud and water pies
is not a child's game
but a delicacy
shows us that a people damned on Earth
can rise above the brutality
even if it's only one day at a time.

And for you?

What is your endurance level?

Malfunctioning I-Pod?
Late IRS refund check?
Lovers that won't dirty dance?

What is your fondest dream?

Do you dream
with effort
beyond 9-5 days
with sweat that pours gallons
a true triathlete of vision and endurance?

Or do you lie around and complain
without perspective?

Talk to Mandela
with 30 years of imprisonment
for a cause righteous and true
or tell it to the mountain, Baldwin,
of what colored men and women
continue to do
on Martin Luther King's 82nd birthday
40 years after his assassination?

But whatever you do
realize this: Hope and misery
go together like a horse and carriage
so go ahead an tell the local gentry
of your petty concerns
and they'll tell you
to go straight - to HELL.


Torn Hearts

Were scattered beneath my feet
a Valentine's Day card
ripped by an ex-lover
jilted by a man who promised her

Only two pieces remained
words, names, actions promised
on Hallmark's finest
bled in sewer water
rushing over the sidewalk.

I looked in the ivy,
for other clues
to confessions of adoration
real or fake
underneath bushes
meant to give privacy
to couples in apartments
doing what they did best
but nothing exposed itself
in the undercover operation.

Who exactly was Ricky?

A man of means
but mean, spiteful, jealous
who may have caught his lover
in a compromised position
in an eight by ten room
of the five story adobe?

And who was Lucy?

Did she find her other
Latin amigo
swaying to the rhythm
of his own drumbeat
as he did he best
in his practice sessions
to sire an offspring from the prettiest
young things available?

I wish I could connect
a heart
to a face
for each time I jog past
this Spanish colonial filled
with beach blanket bingo love nests
I always wonder:
who was the victim
and who was the victimizer?

Author bio:

After teaching in a southwest state-run university for five years, Joseph is finally back at home with his wife and 21 month old baby girl. Whether it is relaxing on the beach in southern California or juggling teaching gigs at San Diego State University and other universities, the author plans to take time writing poems and short stories while contemplating his navel and deciding on which direction he wishes his life to take for himself and his family.

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