Sundays always depress me.
I wish we could pull
them from the calendar,
make the weekend
Friday and Saturday,
and then skip
straight to Monday.
Sunday Morning Blues
Tag Archives: poems
Transition Period Poem
Elbow Tree Branch (Photo by Francis DiClemente)
Winter Away
While I loathe the
wind, cold and snow
winter imparts,
I’m always sad
when spring comes
and the chill
in the air departs.
With winter leaving,
it’s like I’m losing
a friend at the end
of the season.
Free Shoes
Instagram Poem #13
Brown shoes near dumpster. Photo by Francis DiClemente.
Free Shoes
Brown shoes placed
near my apartment
building dumpster,
looking forlorn,
waiting to be filled
by a pair of feet.
Will they fit me?
Snuffleupagus Tree
Instagram Poem #11
Snuffleupagus Tree. Photo by Francis DiClemente.
Snuffleupagus Tree
A fallen tree in Chittenango, New York,
reminds me of Mr. Snuffleupagus
from Sesame Street.
And I wonder:
Is my psychological
interpretation accurate?
Did I pass this Rorschach test
inspired by a tree?
Office Chair at the Curb
Instagram Poem #10
Office Chair at the Curb. Photo by Francis DiClemente.
Office Chair at the Curb
An office chair
transplanted
to the curb.
I hope the worker
who occupied
the seat
was not
terminated.
Message on a City Block
Instagram Poem #9
Photo by Francis DiClemente.
Message on a City Block
A note written on a flyer
posted outside a Dunkin’ Donuts store.
The words read:
“What About the Homeless In CNY??
Does Any One Care??”
The message provokes empathy
and a swelling of guilt,
since my answers to the questions
lack sufficient compassion.
Do I care? Yes I do.
Enough to do something about it?
Well, apparently not.
Waiting with Vincent
Instagram Poem #7. This one seems fitting for today, since I have an MRI scheduled later this morning.
Irises (1889) by Vincent van Gogh.
Waiting with Vincent
A scheduled MRI
of the brain shifts
my thoughts toward
all of the
“what if, worst-case scenarios.”
While waiting for my name
to be called,
I see a print of Irises (1889)
hanging on a wall.
From far across the room,
without my glasses,
the slanted vertical
green leaves
look like snakes
writhing in the dirt.
But the longer
I stare at the image,
the calmer I feel.
Placid is the word
that comes to mind.
And I’m thankful Vincent
spends a few
moments with me
prior to my appointment
with the tube machine.
Because when sitting
in a hospital
waiting room,
artwork by Vincent
never fails to lift the spirits.
A van Gogh painting beats
People magazine
or an iPhone screen
every time.
Pay Phone on the Ground
Instagram Poem #6
Pay Phone on the Ground. Photo by Francis DiClemente.
Pay Phone on the Ground
A metal pay phone
splayed on the ground
near my apartment
building dumpster,
a relic from the
pre-digital age—
anthropological
evidence of
20th-century
American life.
Model discontinued
and no iOS update
to install.
Church Park
Instagram Poem #5
Church Park
While walking to work,
I pass a little park
located next to
Grace Episcopal Church.
It reminds me of the scenery
from the movie The Quiet Man.
And in the early morning stillness,
I half expect
John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara
to come striding toward me
along the path.
It’s yet another example
of how I have to live vicariously
through cinema,
since I am confident
my feet will never touch
Irish soil.
The Quiet Man movie image.
Sunday Morning Poem
Instagram Poem #4
Slippers found near a park bench in downtown Syracuse. Photo by Francis DiClemente.
Mystery Slippers
Sunday morning:
a pair of white slippers
left near a park bench
in downtown Syracuse.
Questions abound:
Who owns the shoes
and where did the person
sleep last night?
No answers to be found,
so instead cue Johnny Cash’s
big, beautiful voice singing
“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down.”
Francis DiClemente 