Loves Fire

"If the heart is an organ of fire then love is the passion fanning desire. Burning passion is a radiant force. It melds respect. Respect its seductive powers and it will burn eternal. For love can sweep you up like the winds of fire. Abuse its power and the careless will get burned. If love dares to flicker over time, stoke the coals or put it out gently like a wick between fingers. Always recognize both its spark and the potential for flame. Compassion is the undying light to love’s fire. Show your love as if it is your last match to wet kindling."

–Joe Tornatore

Different Drums

She demanded a romantic relationship

singing the praises of white doves in flight.

He protested for the platonic friendship

harping against making love this night.

She leaned forward to kiss him

after applying light glossy lipstick.

He turned away and she missed him

her efforts trite and minus magic.

She begged him to surrender his flight

reassuring him their secret would be airtight.

After coaxing him to a motel canopy bed

he hosted the guilt of being dirt cheap.

He made a final plea to remain friends

but in actuality he saw little sleep.

She loosened his white shirt and tie

while his body hardened like stone coral.

Disillusioned to her spiteful lies

her schmoozing touch seduced his morals.

In the morning she peacefully awoke

the two snuggled in wrinkled satin sheets.

He politely smiled before cracking a joke

but his conscience racked with deceit.

She talked a lot or so it was seeming

but her shallow words lacked any meaning.

She mockingly laughed at the married guy

before shuffling off to a hot bubble bath.

His act of adultery caused a shameful cry

thus shutting the door on her cold troubled wrath.

by Joe Tornatore

For Granted

I thought you first would have given up on me when I told you repeated grade school fibs.

…But you didn’t.

I thought you would have exhausted your patience when teaching me how to play Mozart on piano.

…But you didn’t.

I thought you surely wouldn’t accept my apology when I totally forgot your sixteenth birthday.

…But you did.

I thought you would be jealous when I flirted with your college roommate.

…But you weren’t.

I thought you certainly wouldn’t understand when I had no money for yet another Christmas.

…But you did.

I thought I loved you all of my life when I never attempted to show or say it.

…But I wanted to.

I thought you would completely forgive me when I failed to visit you following surgery.

…But you couldn’t.

I knew I would live to regret the things I could have done but didn’t.

…I have…but you didn’t.

by Joseph Tornatore

1982

published in 1984 American Collegiate Poets Anthology

Love Masks Poem

Good poetry is written verse evoking thoughts and emotion. Life is poetry, making poetry all around us. You might have to overturn a few rocks to initially find it but eventually poetry can paint a recognizable beauty on everyone and everything we meet. Poetry is a trained eye so look around you.

If you have an aversion for the sappy, please disregard the following poem. I take my poetry both seriously and privately. Make no mistake about it, I enjoy watching a football game clutching a cold beer but I prefer vanquishing poetry to a private existence without witnesses. It goes without saying, my poetry has wanted to leave its dusty three-ring binder for years. Tonight I heed its call to be heard. So take flight lullabye lyrics and turtle doves for this is your curtain call. As I invoke the masses, this Blog entry will be considered either personal growth or red-faced foolishness. A word of extreme caution about my poetry style before reading, it sounds like Doctor Seuss after sucking the life out of a helium balloon.

LOVE MASKS Love can be a sole search futilely lasting forever. It can be a soul search, a beautiful endeavor. Love has roomed in any of many different places. It has bloomed in the faces of different races. For the lonely, it is relentlessly yearned. -the many masks of love. Unfortunately, like gold it's hard to fathom or find. The fortunate I'm told bump into love rather blind. To many, the true meaning of love is clear and crystallized. Too many times the gleaming confuses, even hypnotizes. Scrutiny might not fully reveal it. Mutiny its power and you won't truly feel it. -the many masks of love. Most people endear love without second-guessing. Best to adhere patience without ever pressing. Often it is professed, then commitment recanted. Others confess faking it and taking it for granted. Love can be born of understanding and zealous. Love can be burdened by possessiveness of the jealous. -the many masks of love. Love can involve diligent work much like a chore. Cowards dissolve its meaning, doubting what it is for. Occasionally, it shimmers bright with obtuse trying. Sometimes it's a glimmer in the dark then a recluse hiding. In bliss it is taken to heart without making a fuss. I regret once mistaken it, taking it for lust. -the many masks of love.

Joseph Tornatore 1998