I WILL get back at it poetically

I have been trying to do too many things (Violet, her school, Girl Scouts, my own poetry) and all you poets have been neglected  and for that I apologize profusely.

There will be NEW poetry and a new poet here later this week, in the meantime, feel free to look around PoetryPasta at all the pictures, poems, poetry prompts and other stuff.  Poetry Pasta also has a Facebook page, go check it out :)

Valeri Beers

A Trip To The Bellagio…Las Vegas by Rita Marie Recine

a vacation is wonderful
magical, colorful
I am the navigator, closing all the doors and opening the windows to my heart
Las Vegas was my trip alongside my husband Antonio
a gift from our daughter Bianca for our silver anniversary
once I arrived, I couldn’t get a grip
all was enchanting and colorful
from the hotels to the roulette tables
ring, ring, ring the machines did sing
a vacation is a gift….a voyage into the unknown.
we watched shows, ate at Wolfgang Puck restaurant
had a few beers…..we smiled, laughed and danced to the tune of the bands
the liveliness of the city
it is called sin city…..where all is acceptable, all is respectable
stayed at the MGM……magnificent….
the Bellagio was grandioso
sharing, caring, meeting people from all walks of life
may they be a mother, daughter, husband or a wife
the Bellagio waters were seen far and wide, illuminating, fascinating
people filled the streets with music and laughter
on the other side of the spectrum there were no flashing lights
people panhandling into the night
we saw how others lived, it was not so fine
intelligent people with broken lives
no means of transportation
no means to feed their children and their wives
why must this world still have poverty…
a vacation is laughter, everyday is the weekend
similar to two people in love, it is the presence of one another
you experience it and then have many memories
a vacation is peace of mind
on vacation there is no schedule, it is always the weekend
a vacation is a learning experience.
nostalgia, memories, recollections
I am the navigator, closing all my doors and opening up the windows to my heart
soul and mind, the fountains and its waters along the Bellagio
keeping this vision in mind I know I will never falter.

Chivalry by Michael Estabrook


He opens doors for her pulls out chairs

walks between her and the street

pumps the gas into her car.

He does all this and more for her

whether she likes it or not because he must.


Michael Estabrook is a recently retired baby boomer poet freed finally after working 40 years for “The Man” and sometimes “The Woman.” No more useless meetings under florescent lights in stuffy windowless rooms. Now he’s able to devote serious time to making better poems when he’s not, of course, trying to satisfy his wife’s legendary Honey-Do List.

Our Day of Passing anthology – Stories, Poems and Essays Compiled by Ingrid Hall and Franco Esposito


Our Day of Passing is formed from an eclectic and diverse mix of short stories, poems, fictions and essays. Contributions have been assembled from over 30 talented writers across the globe, each with their own fascinating interpretation of an event that comes to us all…eventually.
Congratulations to all the contributors :)

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/563817  – FREE Smashwords download HERE  (if you have trouble downloading, let me know!)

Elvis Would Be 78 & Amy Winehouse by Eileen Hugo

Elvis Would Be 78 by Eileen Hugo

For me it was his lips
of course his voice
the way he moved but mostly
his mouth full, soft
curled in petulant pout
or innocent sneer

Not poured into white satin suits
punctuated with jewels
and draped with sweaty scarves

I liked him in black
hair darkly slicked back
the bad boy look
leather jacket with studs
engineer boots

I want him twenty four


Amy Winehouse by Eileen Hugo

You should have gone to rehab
cause we know, know, know
where you were headed

You with your Cleopatra eyes
dark red lipstick and beehive
dressed as a copy of 60’s bad girls.
Blackwell had you on the worst dressed list.
Lagerfeld proclaimed you the new Bardot.

You were a tornado of talent
the Grammys had you for six.
Your music a collage of jazz
and jazz-pop, hip-hop and Motown.
Tony Bennett said you sang like
it should be sung “the right way”
It all fell apart when you spiraled down
poisoned by your escape of choice
I wish you went to rehab
yeah, yeah, yeah


Two  great poems from author Eileen Hugo.  More of her poems are featured in a new, free e-book, “Our Day of Passing”, coming out on July 31st.  You can read her on PoetryPasta FIRST. – Franco Esposito

Free poetry :)


wow! congratz Valeri Beers! :) Reviews are VERY important to Amazon ;)

Originally posted on Valeri's poems & random thoughts :

Did you download …details…? You did? Yay! Thank you!  You got some very good poems! Would you do me a favor? Would you write a review for it? Thank you :) You can click on this picture to go directly to the Amazon page.

As of right now (8:49 am 7/25/2015) …details… is:

#5,407 Free in Kindle store :)

#1 in Women’s and Contemporary poetry :D  (wow!  thank you!)

white cover-225x300

View original

my poetry will be FREE :)


FREE poetry :)

Originally posted on Valeri's poems & random thoughts :

Tomorrow (7/23) is my birthday and I want to give YOU a present :)


July 23rd, July 24th and July 25th,  my poetry book will be a FREE download from Amazon)  (you can click on the cover of my book to go to Amazon and my book directly.)

white cover-225x300

You can read my book on your Kindle or with the FREE Kindle Reading app for your iPad, computer or phone

Kindle reading app:


View original

When My Wife Is in Her Garden by Donal Mahoney

When my wife is in her garden,
she becomes a ballerina
moving with the morning breeze
through hollyhocks and roses,
peonies and phlox.
There is music only she can hear.
It’s been that way for 30 years.
I never interrupt her dance

not even when the house caught fire
early in the morning. I didn’t holler out
the way another husband might
if he had never had a gardener for a wife.
Instead I called the firemen,
and while they were on their way,
I poured water from the sink
on the growing conflagration.

My efforts proved to be in vain.
The firemen arrived too late and so
the house is now a shell of smoke.
The garden still looks beautiful
yet I have no idea what I’ll say
when my wife comes back inside.
But if she’s toting roses to arrange
she may not notice any change.

Donal Mahoney

donal mahoney
I had a garden, but I was NOT a ballerina ;) – Valeri Beers
This poem is cross posted on the PoetryPasta Facebook page

Our Day of Passing: An anthology of short stories, poems and essays

tomb200.jpg 200 DPI
Our Day of Passing: An Anthology of Short Stories, Poems and Essays

Compiled By Ingrid Hall and Franco Esposito

Written by Various Co-Authors (Ingrid Hall, Franco Esposito, Dennis Higgins, Virginia Wright, Candida Spillard, Valeri Beers, Dada Vedaprajinananda, Strider Marcus Jones, Adam E. Morrison, Allyson Lima, D. B. Mauldin, David A. Slater, David King, Dee Thompson, Donald Illich, Edward Meiman, Eileen Hugo, Emily Olson, Joan McNerney, J.S. Little, Kin Asdi, Madison Meadows, Malobi Sinha, Marianne Szlyk, Mark Aspa, Mark David McClure, Megan Caito, Michael Brookes, Michael Burke, Pijush Kanti Deb, Prince Adewale Oreshade, Rafeeq O. McGiveron, Robin Reiss, Sasha Kasoff, Stephanie Buosi, Talia Haven)
This Book Is A Journey We Share

They say that life is the greatest miracle. That death is the greatest mystery. And our mind, let me add, with it’s beliefs and perceptions, is perhaps the greatest mirage.

Each of us has a destiny with death. It stands to reason, by course, we cross with the dead into the abyss, knowing full well that it will follow us. But the mind’s reasoning is at first veiled partly to this by it`s nature and duty to protect the image of itself as vital and therefore alive and indestructible. Through the passing of others we love, have grown up with, or simply have known, reason fails us however, and we acknowledge that death is communal, and that is why we mourn. We do so with strong expression of emotions, anger, pain, regret, hope, forgiveness, acceptance, for our loss and in turn for the loss that we will be to others after us. We are devastated by this at first, and separated into survivors and the deceased: and then united by it, becoming somehow equal and connected. Death is an experience that defines us and ultimately finds us, It is our mother that takes us back into it`s bosom.

Below stand three fictional illustrations of the mystery, mirage and miracle of death, as an event we are least capable of reconciling with, understanding rationally or surrendering to. Just as the characters we are both implicated and concerned as to what this means for us. What shall our day of passing be like for us and those that bear witness?

At the ending of his film, A Praire Home Companion, Robert Altman, has four people seated at a diner. A woman in a white trench coat, appropriately called, The Dangerous Woman, comes in looking for one of them. Immediately, they know she is the Angel of Death. They are stunned and confused looking at each other, pointing their stares and fingers at one another, to divert the pick to someone else. The imagery of death and refrain from it is vast.

In another film, called Temple Grandin, our autistic heroine on seeing cattle being ruthlessly slaughtered, is quickly inspired to design a more humane slaughterhouse, but first asks the sentinel question, ” Where do they go? “.

In, The Godfather, the patriarchal head of a crime family, Vito Corleone, is playing with his grandson in a tomato grove dressed with a slice of lemon peel in his mouth, mimicking a gorilla, a monster. Yet his death coming suddenly is strangely peaceful. He drops as a stump to the ground, while the playful cries of his grandson drown away the sorrow. Death is surprisingly breathtaking, and while unexpected, it captures all that life has offered.

This book is a journey into people’s lives as they and we experience death: compiling some personal diverse accounts and visions. Together hopefully, to come to a greater appreciation for the life we are given, and that which will eventually come.

Franco Esposito