within my chase of drifting in the wind have a good way to begin through night skies drift in all directions there must be time for confessing shadows block the tortured sky a smile from a lonesome child drifting ever further to worlds unknown these eyes can see the light of the sky the ocean setting seagulls flock overhead of a passerby light is torn in its vested sphere
the sound of togetherness I must clearly confess out of adoration in exhaltation solitude alone again feelings of love illumination barren sand doons the pier is here beauty in twilight
Mario William Vitale is a poet with over 1,000 toward his platform. Vitale was born October 23rd, 1970 in Bristol, Ct. Currently living in Wolcott, Ct where he helps as a care taker for his elderly handicapped mother Ann. Vitale is featured as a writer on Poetrysoup, Writerscafe & Allpoetry. Has a fan base on facebook with over 650 followers. He started writing poems in 1989 after the break up of his first girlfriend as a way to cope with life.
Beautiful eyes Imagine falling in love with someone you have never seen. Would you give your heart away to a mystery? What if you could fall head over heels, do you think you would try? Or would you run away
Whispered names falling simply off lips, Freckles that ripple on skin, Azure eyes that flooded dreams. Eyes may capsize stable thoughts, Blindly wade into unknown waters, Not knowing awaiting dangers. A siren’s melody put in a trance, A map to
All defenses crumbled, all fears banished All reasons negated, all arguments destroyed Looking into your big passionate eyes Not random chance, but providence Crossing our ways time and again Leading me to your big passionate eyes Yield just once to
The graceful dance of butterfly wings, The budding romance attending Spring — The morning melody of birds who sing, The opportunities each new day brings — The serene swaying of porch swings, The relaxing splashing of gentle rain — Wedding
A pair of hazel eyes look at me. Your ‘bandana’ runs up to forehead, a scarf covers nose, chin and below, the pinky complexion of your cheeks lures me to paint you as a lovely maid. There is no invitation