Graveyard Thoughts

 

Photo by Oguz Yagiz Kara

Graveyard Thoughts

by Dawn Pisturino

The long hours of night stretch endlessly into morning,

And I am alone, utterly alone, and content.

The cares of daytime activity cease.

Noise, noise, and more noise:

Now all is quiet and sleeping and alone.

My thoughts run loudly in my head,

And I can hear them!

No human voice clutters my brain

Or tenses my nerves or assaults my body.

Peace

A precious commodity,

So rare and wonderful

A thing to own,

We hardly recognize it

When we have it.

Humankind, accustomed to the horror of war,

Has forgotten the glory of peace.

Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

Political Poems by Dawn Pisturino

 

The Pathway to Hell

by Dawn Pisturino

When you vote for poverty,

Don't be surprised

When your belly aches with hunger.

When you vote for slavery,

Be aware that you willingly put on the chains.

When you vote for lawlessness and anarchy,

Don't complain

When the violence

Comes home to YOU.

When you vote for corruption and lies,

Don't cry

When you find yourself

On the Pathway to Hell.

~

Some People

by Dawn Pisturino

Some people will never quit

Until they've built a structure

On every inch of empty land.

Some people will invite

Every stranger into their home

Until, eventually, those strangers

Take over and kick them out.

Some people salute the flag

Of every nation except their own.

Some people applaud the exploits

Of dictators and madmen,

Embracing slavery and chains,

Forgetting that they were once free.

Some people throw away their lives

On violence and pain,

When all they had to do

Was open up their hearts to love.

Some people crave money and fame,

Throw their friends and family under the bus,

And wonder why they die alone.

Some people are you and I

And all the rest of us.

Some people take,

Some people give.

It's an age-old story.

All poems by Dawn Pisturino.

Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

April Poems

 

April Showers

I looked into the heavens

And saw the face of God. 

He was a kindly gentleman

And not too very loud.

He wore a watch upon his vest

Which gave the time of day.

He looked at it: "The time has come,"

Was all he had to say.

And soon a gentle rainfall

Came from the April sky.

It kissed my wondering up-turned face

And poked me in the eye.

But then a very curious thing

Did happen at my feet.

A tiny flower sprouted up,

All blooming and complete.

It opened up its tiny leaves,

Embracing fast the rain,

And if I ever doubted God -

I never did again.

Published on Gobblers & Masticadores on April 8, 2023

~

Haiku

White cherry blossoms

Spring from decrepit old trees,

Martyred souls react.

~

Spring

Spring! The vigor of new life soars in my veins!

I am free and alive and wonderful,

Free as the silly sparrow twittering in the tree top,

Too gaily alive.

Alive as the new-sprung fountain of youth in the riverbed,

Which knows not that it is bound by grassy banks,

But runs down the waterway in a mad race for the finish.

And wonderful as the tiny petals of a flower,

First opening up to the Father Sun

Like a virgin bride in the marriage bed.

Sun gives new life to the blood,

And blood gives new life to the body,

And the body gives new life to the soul,

Ad infinitum, ad infinitum, ad infinitum.

But every Spring plays its part as a new beginning,

And we never tire of the encore.

~

Robin Red-Breast

When Robin Red-Breast comes to town,

All the children dance around,

Clapping hands and stamping feet,

Happy with their little treat!

~

All Poems by Dawn Pisturino

Copyright 1985-2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

~

I HATE SNAKES

 

(Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash)

I HATE SNAKES

by Dawn Pisturino

Don't go into the swamp!

But we ignored them, 

For we were great explorers, 

Hunting for lost civilizations

And buried treasure

In the deepest jungles of Africa.

We plowed through the snake grass,

Climbed over rotting tree trunks,

Hung from wild grape vines,

Chattering like monkeys.

And we never considered the dangers

Lurking in our "jungle."

The old summerhouse lay hidden

Among tangled green bushes

And thorn-studded berry brambles,

Overlooking the banks of the St. Joseph River.

I pushed open the creaky door to look inside

And froze in shock at what I saw:

Slithering, crawling, scaly snakes

Formed a moving carpet on the floor,

Entwining in an intimate embrace,

Lying together in a clump of shimmering bodies,

Moving slowly and surely in the rotten shadows.

We beat a hasty retreat

And never visited our "jungle" again.

And that's why, even today,

I HATE SNAKES!

Published in Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology, January 2023.

BIO:

Dawn Pisturino is a retired nurse in Arizona whose publishing credits include poems, limericks, short stories, and articles. Her poetry has appeared in these anthologies: World Poetry Anthology, 1987; Best New Poems of 1988; Great Poems of Today, 1987; New American Poetry Anthology, 1988; National Poetry Anthology, 1988; American Poetry Anthology, 1988; Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women, 2022, and Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology, 2023. In 2007, she had her own health and wellness column in the Kingman Daily Miner and published articles in The Standard and the Bullhead City Bee. Her poems, limericks, short stories, and articles have appeared in MasticadoresUSA, MasticadoresIndia, Gobblers & Masticadores, Spillwords Press, Underneath the Juniper Tree, Brooklyn Voice, Danse Macabre du Jour, Psychic Magic Ezine, Working Writer, and others.  She has several novels in progress. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, the Arizona Authors Association, and the Black List.

Author website: www.dawnpisturino.org

Author blog: www.dawnpisturino.wordpress.com

The Listener

 

(Photo by Markus Spiske, Unsplash)

The Listener

by Dawn Pisturino

As a small child,

I lay in my small bed,

Listening to the mourning doves

Crying softly, "Coo-hoo! Coo-hoo!"

From the woods across the road

In the early morning light.

At night, the owls called to me --

"Who's there? Who's there?" --

A comforting lullaby that

Quieted my childish fears

And lulled me fast to sleep.

The thunder spoke to me

When the rain called my name,

Throwing his fierce lightning bolts

Across the black, menacing sky.

And when the storm passed away,

A hungry mosquito berated me,

Demanding a bloody feast.

~

The world is not a silent place,

Nor a place of peace.

~

As I grew,

The sounds of life grew louder:

Crashing metal when a truck turned over on the icy road.

My mother screaming,

My father shouting,

Then silence. . . when the unknown driver breathed no more.

Published in Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology (2023), a #1 Amazon bestseller.

Available Now! - "Hidden in Childhood: A Poetry Anthology"

 

Two of my poems are included in the anthology, "The Listener" and "I HATE SNAKES." Available now on Amazon.com.

Dawn Pisturino

February 17, 2023

"Nature's Child" in 2023 Arizona Literary Magazine

 

I'm proud and happy to announce that my poem, Nature's Child, has been published in the 2023 Arizona Literary Magazine. The poem won Honorable Mention in the Arizona Authors Association 2022 Literary Contest.

Nature's Child

by Dawn Pisturino

She overflowed with poetry and music and laughter,

Spilling the boundaries of her life

With delicious rivulets of innocence and joy.

She danced -- naked! -- in the pure white light of a waxing moon

On a soft, sultry night at the Summer Solstice

And sang to the icicle stars in the middle of winter.

Her nakedness gleamed in moonlight and candle-light,

Sunlight and lamplight,

But she feared not the shadows or the darkness of night.

They called her witch, priestess, sorceress of the Devil.

She laughed at their ignorance --

These holy men of the Church --

And covered her nakedness with rose petals and fern.

Green ivy adorned her wavy red hair -- 

Long strands of vine cut from ancient oak --

And, in time, she began to resemble the earth itself.

Green moss sprouted between her virgin legs

And beneath her hollow armpits.

Her toenails twisted and curled at the ends of her feet

Like earthbound roots sunk deep into the soil.

Her arms opened wide beneath the golden sun,

Offering prayers and sacrifice to the deity of Life.

She gathered all the richness of sun and rain,

Exulting in the wild green world of her existence.

She withered with the passing years,

As her limbs grew gnarled and bare,

And the birds no longer nested in her hair,

Until hunters from the village

Found her standing on the banks of a gushing stream

And bowed down to worship Nature's Child.

May 31, 2022