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When reading poetry, I prefer realism to escapism yet find it very distasteful when poems become too lugubrious.

I like reading poetry that tries to get beneath the deception du-jur to the stuff that's real. The nitty gritty truth of who and what we really are and what's really important in this life. This is the stuff, not the latest big thing, that poetry clarifies for me.

Like all art forms those that try to do this more often fail than succeed but it is worth reading through all the attempts even if only once in a while, you get a glimps of the true nature of things.

It is in this spirit that I hope you enjoy reading my "attempts"

All poems are Copyright 2002-2010 Dominic John Repici
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - Do not use without permission
Applicable Registrations:
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. . . . . . .
Fulcrum

a two dimensional point

precise and well defined

between confidence and arrogance

between heart and mind

between love and self interest

between cynical and kind

between freedom and slavery

between bravery and facade

thin, but not blurred

it is illusive as God

    -Dominic John Repici
 
A rare moment of clarity.
 



   
  

. . . . . . .
Spring Sheep

Naked sheep that's all
Status among the half men
That's what this suit is

    -Dominic John Repici
 
I do like haikus
Some people don't like haikus
But I like Haikus
 



   
  


. . . . . . .
Little Boys

They walk sleeping in vacuum
conditioned to love their chemical cages
The dulling of their once promising futures assured
Predestined by the flattered hero and his flattering damsel

One in seven, now hobbled.
sentenced to life in this empty, strife-less place
no longer required to learn of the give and take
or of the valiant inner struggles for which this time was set aside

Such things no longer ever existed, and are no longer yearned for
If yearning's even a real thing, no doubt just a word on some statue.
Now, they want only to do what they are asked whenever they are asked.
Convicted as they once were, of behaving too much like little boys.

    -Dominic John Repici
 
I don't really love math, yet many of my poems use numbers to relate messesages. For those like me who aren't really mathematically inclined, this poem is simply saying to the flattered hero and his flattering damsel that they are "wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong", and it's saying so in that "in your face" way that is (or once was) typical of young boys.
 



   
  

    . . . . . . .
        Math

Math will be done
and time will fly by
All things do run
but the seasons fly high
Jump in a lake
fight with snow pies
Capture a snake
sleep under the skies
make love in a field
make tea by the fire
the math will be done
but the seasons go higher


    -Dominic John Repici
 
Speaking of math. I wrote this in a college math course. The prof would lean on the board so that his left forearm would lay on top of his head. His left hand hung down and it would invariably tinker with his right ear. This was entertaining for the first few days, then I resorted to writing poetry.
 



   
  

. . . . . . .
Kid Missiles

What manner of anger is this
that causes one to use children
as weapons in his own
personal battles?

What excuse will allow him sleep
as he hurls their trusting, glass souls
against the hardened walls
of his enemies'?

What kind of Love attends a mate
engaged in this haughty scheming
only helping his heart
to become colder?

    -Dominic John Repici
 
Oiy.
 



   
  

. . . . . . .
I.R. Poet

I like to be a poet

It makes me feel so fine

It really is incredibly

fantastic, and sublime


...I know, I know,

that doesn't rhyme


    -Dominic John Repici
 
pinky finger to corner of mouth.
 



   
  

. . . . . . .
Keep It

You must think it's rare, to keep it that way
You're a vacuum, always wanting more
You suck it all up and don't give any
You're not in love,  You're at war.

    -Dominic John Repici
 
Thoughts around 1978
 



 




© Copyright 2002-2010 Dominic John Repici