Joseph T. Renaldi Poems

There is a place called Purgatory,
A place far beyond the universe
Where Divine servants are waiting there,
Assisting one shortly after their last breath
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Many accomplishments are by women and men,
Who, having often failed will always try again,
Who risk the probability of loss to proceed out,
And having proceeded, never in hesitation or doubt,
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I know I did not imagine seeing them,
I see them every Saint Patrick's Day,
But when I try to confer with them
They always seem to scurry away.
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The last leaf of Autumn,
Left dangling alone,
All her colorful mates
Have fallen and lost their tone.
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I see a Cardinal sitting on the snow-covered birdfeeder,
In my heart there is hope.
Though the winds of winter are blustery,
I know that I will be able to cope,
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I wish I could bestow upon the people of all nations
Happy hearts, security that peace brings,
Unity and harmony in all aspects of their life,
Respect and understanding for all lovely things.
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I long to see the evergreen tree,
Green and covered with needles free,
Thinking of Christmas approaching fast,
I cut and dragged the tree home at last.
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Once on this land, many years ago,
Immigrants resolved to build their home.
They labored hard and long in the mines,
And to develop a town near the rising culm.
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Bearded man, sitting there,
In the alley midst garbage fare,
Bloodshot eyes you stare at me.
Are you inebriated - or could it be
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They said, 'He is only an impractical visionary, '
And passed him by with a sneer or sneaky smile,
But his non violence rhetoric fashioned a dream
That made his life prominent and more worth while.
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