THANKSGIVING

By Michelle Longo-Bloom

A rainy morning
And all settled in
The bird in the oven
Spices in the bin
The Macy’s Parade on the TV
High in the sky, big balloons and floats
The Rockets dancing and prancing with glee
Every person and tourist in their yellow raincoats
The turkey’s still cooking
We’ve just set the table
We all thank the Lord
For being well and able
We each say some words for what we are thankful
And to all we tell what this day so means
With our homes so warm and our plates so plentiful
As we speak of the value this holiday so deems

A THANKSGIVING POEM

By Michelle Longo-Bloom

A time honored day
Way back; long ago
The Indian and the Pilgrim
In the meadow
No longer are they foe
The Pilgrim lay down his rifle
The Chief put down his bow
Their hatred now trifle.
Our books and our teachers tell of it all
Of this notable time
One day in the Fall
Obliged and grateful for what took place on that day
We bow our heads
And give thanks as we pray.

ANSWERS COME FIND ME

Photograph by AudreyLynne Waldbaum Castiglione

ANSWERS COME FIND ME

By Michelle Longo-Bloom

Wondering about the wind
With out focus or destination
Aimlessly en-route
Pondering hesitation
Floating through the air
Deciding, should they reach me
Answers seem so bare
What’s meant to be will be.

A VETERAN'S DAY POEM: "THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER"

Photograph by AudreyLynne Waldbaum Castiglione

THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER
By Michelle Longo-Bloom

He was fighting for his country while seeking the hope of peace some day.

He truly believed it was not too long away.
With implausible bravery he forged on in his world of terror and fear.
When he saw the inevitable danger ahead,
he knew his troops would be loyal and near.
But now he sits scared and alone
and as the enemy approaches
he wonders if he’ll ever see the likes of home.
His troops were not near this time,
while he contemplated
turning back or surrendering and crossing the enemy line.
He never did find what he was seeking,
but as he lay still and breathless beneath the earth
his mother sits home weeping.
Perhaps the next soldier will find that peace,
and while his mother rejoices
and thanks The Lord to have her son alive and home,
they will both remember the one before him
on the battle field, all alone.

 

BRANCHES

Photograph by AudreyLynne Waldbaum Castiglione

BRANCHES

By Michelle Longo-Bloom

Its branches spread out
like that of the clothes broadened on her bed.
“Her,” trepid femella; femmina;
embarking on the lively waters of her adolescent years.
Each article of clothing signifying something so diverse,
each piece denoting experiences, so sundry:
some old and frail; a torn and tattered blouse,
some new and fresh; her latest silk slacks.
Like that of her clothes…
each branch conveys occurrences, varied,
with lines gnarled deep; embedded with in,
lines which speak,
of the lips, cheeks and foreheads they’ve been.
Each one with streaks
of smirks and frowns they’ve been around,
laughing faces; mouths they once did surround.
With age each branch becomes feeble; fragile,
now comes a new face, the face of a child,
and all of the lines,
they leave; disappear,
and laughter, giddiness, more smiles appear;
innocence for new lines to bind.
As her clothes were worn and then replaced…
so were the branches.
Now, unsullied kindling with new features to be encased;
new facades and grimaces to be encircled.
The branches, they lived lives of their own,
lives of all things, wise and fully grown.
As did she live a life of her own,
“Her,” trepid femella; femmina;
now wise and grown.
Like that of the branches…
with streaks around grins,
with lines around chins,
wisdom and gaiety,
and all that beamed,
in spite of all storms and strife, it seemed.

Photograph by AudreyLynne Waldbaum Castiglione

LOVE'S PRICE

Love's Price
By Michelle Longo-Bloom

To win or lose
it’s what we choose
it’s nothing more at the end of the day
it’s nothing more than how we play
do we lose the game
give up the reign
is it all the same
are we to blame
a liberty once our very own
either we let it go or we’re all alone
why should it be
please help me see
why myself, I must sacrifice
why my beliefs don’t suffice
why does love have a price

Love & Lost:

BELOW ALL FACADES
By Michelle Longo-Bloom

Deep beneath the most inner truths,
far below all facades,
lurking behind what may appear real,
all smiles and gestures
to seemingly deal.
In spite of what we truly feel,
lay a quandary of wonder,
and questions to peel.
Hiding in the inner soul,
masking the ravaged essence tame,
the shattered psyche and spirit whole,
a masquerade of undying pain.
Reservations, self doubt
and unwarranted guilt,
so strongly, strategically;
so beautifully built.
Torn at the seems and shredded at the heart,
forever marveling why today we’re apart.