Stefanie Dell'Aringa

Freelance Writer

Category: Poetry

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Dawn’s Song

Dawn is but a symphony

Ears open to the song

Of each soprano cardinal

Calling far and long

“Caw, caw,” the crows crescendo

As the morning dove does coo

In a soft and graceful manner,

One, two, one, two

Just then the alto geese fly by

To punctuate the sound

Of steady chirping sparrows

Who are singing in a round

It’s enough to take me from my sleep

Into a blissful dance

My feet grow wings, I’m out the door

And far beyond romance

And as the sun dries up the dew

I’m off into the sky

To join the birds’ sweet harmonies

No time to say goodbye

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She Plays What Isn’t There

Here is a poem I wrote about my daughter, Sarah who is a pianist. It’s for the Paperwings Podcast contest. You had to pick a quote and use it for inspiration in writing a poem. It wasn’t hard to choose the quote. As soon as I saw the one from Miles Davis, I knew what my subject would be.

Hope you enjoy it.

THE QUOTE: “Don’t play what’s there. Play what’s not there.” – Miles Davis

 

THE POEM:

 

“She Plays What Isn’t There”

speed pours from wrists

that flick and flutter like

hungry puppies voraciously lapping

black & ivory keys

it’s a spirited movement

all her own

not measured by measures

impossible to identify or quantify

save that it will mesmerize

her every listener, every time

she nurtures the notes in one moment

whips them into captivity the next

the score screams, infused with her spirit

it’s a fragrance of fortes

a vapor, an essence,

a love relationship between

fingers and keys,

brilliant, beautiful, surprising,

no notes on music sheets, but written on her heart

she will keep it all safely hidden there and

release it when it’s time to perk ears

and cause birds themselves – masters of the song –

to twist their musical necks in curiosity

all because she can play what isn’t there

Unwrap Me

This poem was written for a poetry contest (which I won, although there were only 20 or so entries) to promote a rare disease called CMT. It portrays the life of Elliot, a charming young Boy Scout who bravely endures CMT-associated pain on a daily basis. He likes Star Wars, ancient Egypt, Legos, playing the trumpet and eating cake. Sometimes he says “sweet” to describe something great. I tried to incorporate what I learned of him from his personal website.

 

Unwrap Me
by Stefanie Dell’Aringa

Scout’s honor, this is my life:
I feel like an Egyptian mummy
being wrapped in slow motion from the feet up
My insides are like pottery breaking
As the python cloth squeezes
Unwrap me, please, and let me be a boy again
Because my ankles are tired
And I don’t like the word “prosthetic”
If Star Wars was real, I’d light saber myself
Out of this mess
Hurry, and find me a cure
Until then, I’ll go outside
I’ll blow hot, angry air into my trumpet
I’ll eat cake. Sweet!
I’ll decide I can wait
And then I’ll go to bed and dream
Of a ladder made of Legos
That reaches straight to heaven
and it doesn’t hurt to climb it

Dreams

A nocturnal reality of

Never ending seconds in

Black and white

 

Rapid eye movement

A dewy sweat in

Crinkled sheets

 

Frustrations of the day

Suppressed wishes and

Fears combine

 

Running fast

Getting nowhere

Buried alive

©1987 Stefanie Dell’Aringa

Faith

We have a hope, we’re told

In a message that’s better than gold

That in heavenly places we’re seated

All sorrow, all grief is defeated

We are royalty, sons of a King

Who will gather together all things

Yes, His grace is sufficient for thee

On the cross, slain the enmity

Praise to our Lord for His gift

The heaviest hearts will he lift

Unto Him will we always give praise

For His wonderful, marvelous ways

© Feb. 2010

We’ll Carry On

WE’LL CARRY ON

 

a poem about the African Wild Dog

(Lycaon Pictus)

 

Dedicated to my good friend, Larissa on her 40th birthday

 

we are strong

and we will run

we hunt our prey

at break of dawn

 

we’re painted wolves

we’re tall and free

we’re killed by man

cause man can’t see

 

we wish to live

and wonder why

you cannot hear

our desperate cry

 

we call out ‘hoo’

to find our lost

our sharp ears hear

from miles across

 

the lions seek

to take our lives

our loved ones die

but we’ll survive

 

we chase at dusk

our hunger calls

we tear at flesh

a kudu falls

 

our habitat

is all but gone

we’re prideful packs

we’ll carry on

 

 

©2011 Stefanie Dell’Aringa

 

 

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