(Manuscript of Poet Mario William Vitale)
From 1993-1997 - Attended State University in Connecticut,Attempted plays : Tartuffe, Miracle Of St. Anthony and Balm in Gieade,( His poetic aspirations had in 1989 from submitting his first poem entitled, "Remembrance Of A Loved One"- (Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum)Next from 1989-1997 ( Wrote primarily for Poetry.com and The International Library Of Poetry),* Received editors choice award in 1997 for poem, " A Beacon Of Light ",(1998) Sent poetic manuscript to N.Y. Time Magazine and Chief Editor " John Hyland".Back with rave reviews !* ( From 1999-2008:Had adapted a real keen sense of style for writing poetry: ( 1999- Sent Editorial to:New Man Magazine for the Passion of Christ Movie;Sent followup letter to company with poetry platform information attached,* 2000-2007 : Magazine : ( Catholic) Maries Rose Ferron Magazine submitted poem" Beacon Of Light", which had excellent editorial reviews as the outset !2008- Wrote poem entitled: ( The Heavy Cross) to Poetry.com* Achieved Poetry status of work of Excellence in writing from the Academy Of American Poetry in which still having received rank and status as a member of Academy;* ( The Connecticut Poetry Society)* Short story submitted entitled, "China Dog Ray" submitted to Virginia WritersQuarterly, West Virginia, Also having member status on their board of Poetry.*
( Attribute Poetry to an ever increasing love of God and his unconditional love that he has for us in return,Thankfulness toward family and friends.( To our past ancestors who fought to uphold freedom that far too many of us take for granted ?One needs a pure heart that's fixed on truth,This is in order to withstand the true great test of time !Life is way too short,Press toward the goal or mark of our high calling that is in Christ Jesus The Lord !~My contempoarry artists include that of ellan Bryant Voight, Kay Ryan and carl Phillips.Which all three are Participants in the Academy Of American Poetry.* Having been a member since 2006,My work reflects the likes of past poets such as C.S.Lewis, Hawthorne and edgar Allen Poe.Most of my work reflects with the values of religious beliefs intact,( In my personal view it is essential in demonstrating a real heart of creativepassion !The reader I believe will benefit by my artistic style of development in a verypositive light.)To further the need for poetry to become more main stream,
Mario Vitale was born in Bristol , Ct Has developed a skill for writing poetry in the free verse form. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform.
Vitale has taken the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as John Ashbery & Major Jackson.
Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct.
Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet.
Mario William Vitale 1 Winfield Drive
Wolcott, ct 06716
A Beacon Of Light Written by: Mario Vitale
A beacon of light to a much hurting world in need !
Can't help but to claim..,
Some sense of identity,
Stregnth and encouragement only come from above !
Amidst in the distance, the trapped seagull..,
Lieth frightened but still yet adrift !
In a most vengeful fashion striking the passing fish,
A true source of hope,
Yet a most triumphal beam !
This beacon of light shineth forth,
Passerby's can err' escape the helping hand..,
To the most sparkling of radiance !
(2)Thanksgiving Dinner by Mario Vitale
Home for the holiday from New Orleans,
with Mother and Father at the tiny
drop leaf, brown rosewood, mahogany table with the gold, grinning claw feet;
Father, choler- red-in the-face, short- sleeved white shirt and cane, says the blessing as Mother brings in the turkey and cranberry.
Then Mother asks, “Won’t you have more?” and father :
“Do you think Moll Flanders was a whore?”
(I have suffered and bleached my hair blond.)
I am silent before their replies. Mother sighs. “I can scarce speak to her.”
And Father, too, quotes Shakespeare. (I am thin
as paper and the rose- colored bowl
of blown glass sitting on the silver stand,
half- filled with water.)
“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
to have a thankless daughter”
Song of Spring Today I heard a robin sing heralding the coming spring
A song of exultation to the sky
an ode to earth's awakening
I saw a willow on the hill
It's branches greening in the sun
and all the earth seemed hushed & still sleeping streams began to run
I heard a softly rising breeze whispering through the grass singing through the still bare trees waiting winter's chill to pass
I saw the sun, so bright and warm warming the earth after the rain
the buds and leaves, no frost to harm
at least, at last, it's spring again.
The Ancients It's my last day with the old giants In mourning I hike the lost trails, sniffing the aroma of the bark,
that cinnamon of the forest Under tepees of wood
in a membrane of shadows,
I stalk the earth, its mammal traces,
its elusive tracks,
to sit on a fallen log where spiders macramé,
moss sloping to my knees unaware of invisibles within, grubbing in their tunnels
A lizard taps my foot,
responding, I muse to its touch,
my thoughts like Indian visions,
And when daylight mushrooms into night,
and an owl hoots from cedar,
I still sit with a lizard on my shoe Huddled with the ancients of the woods
Epiphany Written by: Mario Vitale
It clings to the cliffed shore,
to the wintered face of the thistle path,
to the fingers of the old man's glove as he waves his memory homeward
In that breath between come and go
she moves up from the bay;
gold turns her stride,
the line of her dress,
the soft sea pulling at her feet
When he reaches out
and the frail birds fly
and the sun and the sky
have married deep into the sea, it clings
Even as his shadow threads retreat,
it clings, even now as it dissolves to mist
A Return Home, Only Time Will Tell Written by: Mario Vitale
Oh blessed hope !
Both hardly a believable dream, Sweltering heat with bloodshed in the street...
Send the troops home ! There is no clear reason for them to roam..,
These are desolate times !
For we have chosen ill faded rhymes..,
The casualties are enormous ?
For a stated cause that clearly atrocious..,
A mother's cry as the door chime rings,
A vanishing salute to freedom as the church choir sings !
Let us look above to all the heavenly love.., Merciful one, take this chip off my shoulder..,
Stop the senseless fighting before our dear nation grows a bit colder,
Suddenly, seeds were dropped out of a farmers bag,
In time roots spring up fresh out of the fertile soil...
As the sun heats up,
Time will tell when this harvest will soon boil...
In the vast game of life,
One's time is so very brief !
The soul yearns for its' heavenly relief..,
Share with others who may want to turn over a brand new leaf..,
Time will tell of the true importance of helping one another,
To never give into the finish line..,
Nor harsh criticism that our society puts out !
Like a famous fighter in his final bout !
Time will tell of the return home,
To the open arms of a loved one !
A Valiant Knight Written by: Mario Vitale
A Valiant Knight
Death springs a new day basking in the breeze In solemn moments lets pause to think of a place A far off castle in the mountains away from it all
A valiant knight lived in the structure of it's dwelling Those days of old where mere men had a noble demise
A beautiful maiden was in waiting for her knight He would often fight for the cause of stregnth and dignity The draw bridge where the castle stood had a very unique aura
A mystery of sort sought up in the vast array of crowned nobility
For the king on his thrown was humble yet greedy Always would take care of himself caring nothing for the needy A valiant knight was concerned about the kings trust
Often they would disagree on who it was to serve A joker came in front of the king one day with a magic wand
Waving the wand in the air then there floated ivy everywhere For the court jester was a fool in the making of his legacy The maiden would often come forth and see
For she treasured a red rose that was plucked sometime before Cherished the calling of her stature to the glory of the throne A valiant knight would often sing sweet songs in the night Had a following of village people that would sit before his feet
Having a way of words that he would often share The castle was filled with dragons and warlocks searching for love
A cause to be brave amidst uncertainty of the kingdom
The legacy of golden capulets filled ardent vestibules Let us toast to the valiant knight who keeps a watch on all that is good
(8) Hampton Beach
The smell of fresh fry doe
Time had elapsed playing at the casino Fresh lobster with a side order of fries Those spacious wonderful sky's
Down at the shell the continental were playing A walk by the lady of a statue in waiting Flip flops and the sound of laughter A playground for kids in the middle The boardwalk with seagulls flocking over head
Fire works in the midnight air with a cheer
God's World It is raining again. Summer will be over before it ever gets here Thunder rolls far away, drops hit the windshield, the sky turns gray
The Sunflower, the blue
Delpinium, the white Stinkwood drink the moisture greedily. The green and silver leaves of the Aspens sparkle as the rain hits them, and the
wind turns them round and round The creek flows on, oblivious to
the change in the weather.
A break in the clouds allows a bit of sun to hit the side of a towering mountain
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