It's time, my friend, it's time! The peace is craved by hearts... Days flow after days -- each hour departs A bit of life -- and both, you and I, Plan a long life, but could abruptly die. The world hasn't happiness, but there is freedom, peace. And long have I daydreamed the life of bliss -- And long have planned, a tired slave, the flight To the removed abode of labor and delight.
Category Archives: poetry
Pushkin It’s Time, My Friend
My Mountain by James Tucci
My mountain
It was a sunny day
A lone mountain rose in front of me
Snow covered the peak
Fur trees dotted the base
And little patches of ice and snow lay on the ground at the bottom
This mountain was just one of thousands in the Sierra Nevada range
There was nothing special about it
But it was special to me
For at that very moment it was the mountain that I was looking at
The one I admired
The one I loved
It was my mountain
Mine to love
To see to watch
No one else in the world even knew it existed
But I did
And I loved my mountain and it loved me
And as the sun set in the west
And darkness fell all around
Until all was pitch black
I still saw my mountain
To me it shone like the bright stars in the heavens above
To me it bespoke of majesty and grandeur
A supremacy that the darkness of the evening and the night
Could never replace
For my mountain was there and it would be there in the morning
And it would be there for eternity
My mountain had lived for over four billion years
It lived right now
And it will always live in the world
In my eyes and in my soul
Much in life can be taken away
But my mountain will always stand
And I will stand with it
James Tucci
Miami, Florida
Blue Eyes on New Years Eve by James Tucci
Blue Eyes on New Years Eve
I looked into her eyes
They were blue- very blue.
I wondered what she was thinking
What thoughts lurked behind that smile
She was the most beautiful woman in the world
Looking at her
It was hard to make sense of things
Why I had never in my life seen a women this beautiful and wonderful before
Where had she appeared from
But more importantly
Why was I sitting here with her on the Atlantic
Allowed by the gods to look at her to talk to her
Who had brought her into my presence?
How had this happened?
Angels do not magically alight in my world
There had to be a connection between us
Formed in another life in another time
Another time she said that when I wrote to her I could tell what was in her mind
She was surprised and a bit mystified
I was not
I knew her mind and her feelings as well as I knew my own
While I knew I could never have her
Or make love to her
I knew that she would be mine forever
A higher power had brought her to me
And though we might not be joined together in this lifetime
We would be together in the next
Of that I was sure I had no doubt
Something inside me told me it was true
And here on earth she would be part of my mind body heart and soul
No matter where we were
Regardless of what we were doing
We would be on each other’s minds
Eternity would be ours
Of this I have no doubt
No man no potentate can ever separate our souls
It was meant to be
That ours was to be a journey through the universe together
This I will always believe and I will always know.
James Tucci
Miami, Florida
The Poem “A Peaceful World” by James Tucci – Listen to James 24/7 on WWW.I-NETRADIO.COM
A Peaceful World
One person who is happy
Happy with themselves
With others
And the world around them
Will touch another
Inspire another
And move another
To pass along this feeling of joy
Of love and peace
And this sensation
Will start in one small place
A tiny community
And it shall ripple out across the states the countries and the world
World peace shall be achieved
And it may have all stated with one small person
A person who is nothing more than a little stone upon the road of life
But it can happen!
James Tucci
Miami, Florida
Posted in america, internet, james tucci, literature, peace, poem, poetry, radio, talk, united states, writing
The meadow, A poem by James Tucci
The meadow
I walked down the road
Up ahead was a fence
When I saw that fence it made me wonder
What lay behind it
It was a low fence
I reached it and lifted my legs over it
Beyond it was a meadow
With wild yellow and pale red flowers
Popping out of the tall grass that swayed in the breeze
The meadow had some standing water
So I stopped and gazed out
To where the meadow crossed into the sky
At that moment I knew that life was endless
I would never know all the paths or all the answers
But I knew I was glad to have climbed over that fence
James Tucci
Thanksgiving Day
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Palm Bay Yacht Club, Miami, Florida
Posted in buddhism, elgnlish, existentialism, harmony, language, literature, love, nam myoho renge kyo, nichiren, peace, poems, poet, poetry, transcendentalism, writing
To do Good for One Another
The Reality of Life
It is not easy to navigate the currents of our lives
We are born with an appearance and a nature
Both infused with the essence of life
This is the point at which we start the journey
From there we use our innate power and energy
To make the decisions, the causes, the choices
Which influence us and those around us
Eventually the effects of our energies are realized
For the better or the worse.
We can only hope that along the way
We have been true to our hearts and souls and inner beings
And that the actions we have taken make us proud
Proud to be alive
Proud to be doing something for the world and those around us.
Only time will tell how the fruits of our actions are borne out
And only time will tell whether the marks we leave upon this world
Are those which will further mankind in its endeavor
To finally and fully realize for all eternity
That we come from the one to form the one
Making it our lifetime mission to do good for one another
James Tucci
Posted in buddhism, harmony, love, mankind, nam myoho renge kyo, philosophy, poem, poetry, pushkin, religion
Russian Winter- Russian Soul
The Russian Winter-The Russian Soul
The Russian winter…
It is a hard one.
Epiphany frosts,
The hinterland of Yakutia,
The degrees fall fast,
And the Sun
Forgets Mother Russia.
Yet the winter is often Russia’s greatest ally.
Turning back the Swedes,
While later the winds of December and the gales of January
Saw the Germans starve and surrender at Stalingrad.
The ice and the snow had vanquished the German foes.
The Red Banner flew over the city in triumph.
The descendants of Peter and Catherine had prevailed.
The enemy but destroyed by the snows and ice,
That on many occasions have been Russia’s strongest friends.
The Russian winter is often a white splendor,
Sparkling and glittering in the waning light of the day.
Yet more than that,
It has forged the Russian soul,
A soul that runs deeper and wider
Then those in other places.
A soul with the capacity to love, to fight, to seek, to feel the life
To know the life and understand it.
Yes from the winter, the cold, the fury,
Comes the Russian soul
It is the Russian winter
That sets apart the Russian soul
And makes the Russian man and the Russian woman
Sparkle like bright stars
Amidst the Milky Way
At times the same as all the rest
But for all time always different
James Tucci
Miami, Florida
October 4, 2013
Friend
Friend
Who is a friend?
It is someone who makes you happy when you hear their voice
Who is interested in what you have to say
Who cares when things go wrong for you
Who is happy for your victories and successes
Who wants to know what you are doing
Who is there to talk to you
And who grieves when bad fortune comes your way
And who will remember you every day
When you have departed this planet for another place
That is a friend.
James Tucci
Palm Bay
Miami, Florida
September 30, 2013
Sand
The Sands of Life
We are all but little grains of sand on the beach of life.
James Tucci, September, 2013
Photograph by Matthew Tuthill
Labor Day Weekend 6 AM EDT
Riviera Beach, Florida
Posted in america, beach, existentialism, life, philosopher, philosophy, photograph, photography, picture, poetry, religion, sand, solitude, summer, transcendentalism, tucci, united states
The Russian Winter. It is not an easy one.
The Russian Winter
For a visitor to Moscow,
Whether it be from the States or Western Europe,
The city is at first a bit daunting
And seemingly closed to strangers.
But once that initial contact is made,
From one person to another,
It is readily apparent
That no matter our place of origin
Nor where we make our home,
We emanate from the one
And it is here in Moscow that we form the one.
We are all children of the universe
And Gogol’s Russian soul runs deep
In this very cold and beautiful world.
I left my time in Moscow
With the words of Pushkin pulsating in my heart
“I Loved You.”
James Tucci 2013
I-NETRADIO 