John Ackerman Poems

on the cascading slope leading to the Never Land
let the reader understand a whole host of saying yes we can
there are limits to the sequence leading to the dark hobbit
a face of magic from its flame a given chance at which to entertain
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chase back the tears from your eyes I stand erect to fill its hope
the twilight sun has erected its way a beautiful flower display
got me eager for memories to a cloud that please spreading its disease
barren figs through the tropics of one accord light the flame fixture
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The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with loving brevity. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural and social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension:

Mario William Vitale Biography
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spread throughout a Tulip sign branded from an Elm an forgiven mind
each wave that we encounter chiseled in game to him portion of a pretend
my mind melts below me in the dozen gym made by one to pretend
with the reindeer hoofs proclaimed the nestled all a glow onto snow fallen below
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The boar hog shovels his voice into mudslop
where corn rolls, stripped
come fall he will be cut; his hams,
pork links rocking in the smoke
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Share with the handle that holds you forget how to mold ya its important
to blend beyond the means a special taunt to provide naturally through barriers
in much soght after eternity bend the knee a good taste of a homily
building bridges faced to flee a combersome message to be set free
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Sweet upon sweet
the liquid courage to drink,
faces, hands & feet
a pillow match its fleece;
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to sleep to dream through steel unawares
the chosen vessel pressed through the climax of time
a vestibule toward a couple left long ago
barbed wire fences latent refusal of meager defenses
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A lot of times as poets we are sort of grasping at straws as we come near the no it all.
In part or certain way we have criticized another's words,
We can only do what we can do at times we have to suck it up and be a man
Let the reader understand,
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Gothic Encounter

bell of jelly beans getting lost by its means
the hidden frost on a mass appeal
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