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Sunset on the Gulf of Mexico and an ode to the end of the day.
The sun sets each day,
And another day has gone by
Never to be recaptured.
The memories may linger for a while,
But the moment has been lost forever.
What can we say we did
As the sun sets each day?
Taking away any chance to have done better.
Photo by Melissa Tuthill Photography
Poem by James Tucci All Rights Reserved 2013
Mr. Ikeda and Nichiren Buddhism- SGI.
Life is about scaling one mountain, then facing the next one, and the one after that. Those who persevere finally succeed in conquering the highest of mountains. On the other hand, those who avoid such challenges by taking the easy route will only descend into the valleys.
Mr. Ikeda
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo- Mr. Ikeda and Nichiren Buddhism- Sat. Aug 31 at 11 AM, 2 and 8 PM NY time Life, Success, Difficulties- SGI
What will tomorrow bring?
All the things that we hope for and desire
Or disappointment?
Regardless of the outcome
We shall survive
And we shall live
To face the next day
And the next sunrise
And when the sun sets in the west
We shall carry the day’s memories with us
For they can never take the memories from us
And those memories shall see us through
Till the next day
And the love that we have for those special ones around us
Shall remain in our hearts
The End of Summer- by James Tucci.
The End of Summer
The bay was rather still
It doesn’t blow most days till the afternoon
The leaves on the trees slightly moved
They would be turning orange and red in another few weeks.
The sand was still hot in the afternoon
And the skies were blue
White clouds floated around
These were the waning days of summer
He lived for the summertime
And soon it would be over
The first chill in the air was only a week or two away
Fall, winter and spring were on their way
Bringing the cold, the gray, the rain and the snow
The leaves on the trees would be on the lawns and in the gutter
The sands on the beach would be cold and damp
People would be wearing their coats and jackets
The sad part was
Another summer of his life was about to go away
Never to return
These days would turn to memories
No longer the glorious moments
In time and space that he so enjoyed
When the air was fresh and salty and filled with the scents of the grass and the flowers
All he was left with
Was to pine for the next summer
But in a short amount of time
It too would disappear
Never to return
And someday
Like the sunny summer
He would disappear
by James Tucci
Miami, Florida
James Tucci-The Flame Never dies.
Where is the woman I long for
She has gone way
It seems strange
For this time of year
This is the place that she should be
I do not know whether to worry
Or even to care
I have not seen her
For many a day
I am sure she does not even think of me
Nor have any interest in where I am
She has no concern for my being
But I cannot expunge her from my mind
She lives inside me
So I sit here and wonder
Of whom she is with
And where she resides
And of course
My flame for her never dies
Anna Akhmatova writes as Mother Russia Fights to Survive the Nazi Hordes.
One of James Tucci’s favorite poets is Anna Akhmatova . Here she writes about Mother Russia’s valiant effort to free herself in World War II from the Nazi hordes. This poem is a call to arms, valor and courage. Anna Akhmatova writes this brilliantly.
James Tucci is the co-host on http://www.i-netradio.com, including the English Speaking Russian Talk Radio Show, “Springtime in Moscow.” He is always looking for interesting guests, including poets and those with a Russian connection. As James sits on his porch in Palm Beach, Fla., and watches the waves roll into the beach, he hopes that this poem stirs you soul as much as it does his,
1942
We know what is now on History’s scales, What is, in the world, going now. The hour of courage shew our clock’s hands. Our courage will not bend its brow. None fears to die under the bullet’s siege, None bitters to lose one’s home here, -- And we will preserve you, O great Russian speech, O Russian great word, we all bear. We’ll carry you out, clear and free, as a wave, Give you to our heirs, and from slavery save. Forever!
Pushkin and The Burned Letter and Tucci-Never to be Read.
The Burned letter
Farewell, Letter of Love! farewell: it’s her desire.
How long did I delay! How long refused, in ire,
I to destroy the single joy of mine!…
Enough! The time has come. Burn, scripts of love divine.
I’m ready; nothing else can call for my sad soul…
Now the greedy flame is touching its form whole…
A minute!… it is flamed and blazing – smoke, light,
With my bitter laments, is flying of my sight.
And now the ring’s stamp forfeited its form previous –
It’s boiling – the seal wax… O, Providence of Heavens!
That’s all! The letter’s leaves are twisted, now black;
On their light ashes their well known track
Is whitening… My heart is squeezed. Oh, dear ashes,
In my sad destiny, my poor consolations,
Forever lie on breast, so fully, fully wracked…
Pushkin
*******************************************************************
Never to be Read
I wanted to tell you
How much I loved you
I wrote a birthday poem for you
From the heart and the soul
My thoughts and love were bared
Naked for you to behold
You would know how deep my feelings were
How much I cared for you
And loved you
When the day of your birth came
I could not send it
I could not let you know
How much I yearned for you
I could not let you see inside my secret being
My deepest thoughts
I just could not let you know
I could not bring myself to tell you
What you meant to me
Instead I kept it
Never to be seen
Never to be read
For you to never see my folly
And how foolish I’ve become
I wish that I could have let you know
How joyful I was
That on this day
You graced the earth
And made the world a better place
And let me know what the deep deep Russian love
That you once explained to me
Really is
My note wil lie buried
Never to be read nor seen
Of no value
Or purpose
Just a note of affection
That the intended will never receive
My little note
Will someday be destroyed
When my papers are discarded
And turned to ashes
Having never been read by you my beloved
Tucci
Russia’s Eternal Glory- A beautiful Poem, the Wanderer by Dmitry Bazilenko.
wanderer
Dmitry Bazilenko
Heavy road wanderer.
Not a penny to his name.
And as if his feet bare,
on the cobblestones.
Blood oozing, knocked legs hurt.
Heart beating out of my chest.
Like a lonely bird,
from the depths to the heights breaks.
Broad Russian mother.
Throughout the temples and palaces.
But everywhere on the porch,
Poverty is missing.
Though Russia eternal glory
the breadth of his soul.
How to find a shelter.
If everywhere is not so.
As written in Scripture,
Is not that for us.
And everywhere now wanderers
and deceit in business.
From very early in the morning mayhem.
The first guests at the ball.
Those that remember you gentlemen,
Remember his Christ.
In the church I see often go.
Not only on you cross.
And with chains of gold,
Decoration of Satan.
After all, the camel is even easier
jump through the eye of a needle.
On the perfidy of your gold,
on tears and blood.
And that is where the wanderer
to find happiness.
After all, Russia eternal glory
the breadth of his soul.
We hope to have Dmitry as a guest soon on English Speaking Russian Talk Radio I-NETRADIO.COM
Posted in kazan, moscow, novosbirsk, philosophy, poems, poetry, pushkin, russia, Russian
Pushkin and Tucci-Love and a Woman.
I Loved You
I loved you; and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.
Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I.
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
A woman with a smile
Her head rested on her hand
A scarf wove its way around her shoulders
She looked straight into the camera
And her smile
It was slight
And it was serene
But nonetheless it was a smile
What is she thinking
He wonders as he looks into her eyes
Is she dreaming
Is she thinking
Is she wondering
Or does she know
Know what it is she is looking for.
Or just waiting for it to happen.
Is she sure of herself
And of her destiny
Or is she apprehensive
About the things to come
Thinking of her future
Is she to be alone for the journey
Or with a mate
A mate who understands her soul her heart her feelings
Is that what she wants or does she yearn for something else
A life with just her thoughts to keep her company
Maybe she is not sure
Is it best to answer to herself alone
To be the captain of her own course
To think her own thoughts
And write her own poetry
But what is poetry if no one is there to read it
No one to share it with
To understand what she is saying
To care what she is writing
And thinking and doing
She has her thoughts
Many thoughts
Of love of happiness of a future
Of peace
Of serenity
And yet she wants someone to know all this
To know how she feels
To feel it along with her
The feelings of success of defeat
Of sorrow of joy
What are these feelings if there is no one to share them with
Are they without meaning
Without any footprints in the sand
No
She knows what she wants
And only time will tell if it all comes true
Or if she is left to ponder her thoughts for eternity
James Tucci, Miami, Florida, October 2012.
Posted in america, american, dating, desire, expatriots, gogol, kazan, lifestyle, literature, love, novosbirsk, personality, philosophy, poems, poetry, psychology, pushkin, romance, russia, Russian, sex, united states, women, youth
Pushkin and Tucci – Two Poems About a Woman.
I Loved You
I loved you; and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.
Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I.
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
A woman with a smile
Her head rested on her hand
A scarf wove its way around her shoulders
She looked straight into the camera
And her smile
It was slight
And it was serene
But nonetheless it was a smile
What is she thinking
He wonders as he looks into her eyes
Is she dreaming
Is she thinking
Is she wondering
Or does she know
Know what it is she is looking for.
Or just waiting for it to happen.
Is she sure of herself
And of her destiny
Or is she apprehensive
About the things to come
Thinking of her future
Is she to be alone for the journey
Or with a mate
A mate who understands her soul her heart her feelings
Is that what she wants or does she yearn for something else
A life with just her thoughts to keep her company
Maybe she is not sure
Is it best to answer to herself alone
To be the captain of her own course
To think her own thoughts
And write her own poetry
But what is poetry if no one is there to read it
No one to share it with
To understand what she is saying
To care what she is writing
And thinking and doing
She has her thoughts
Many thoughts
Of love of happiness of a future
Of peace
Of serenity
And yet she wants someone to know all this
To know how she feels
To feel it along with her
The feelings of success of defeat
Of sorrow of joy
What are these feelings if there is no one to share them with
Are they without meaning
Without any footprints in the sand
No
She knows what she wants
And only time will tell if it all comes true
Or if she is left to ponder her thoughts for eternity
James Tucci, Miami, Florida, October 2012.
James Tucci appears on WWW.I-NETRADIO
.COM, World Wide and English Speaking Russian talk radio.
I-NETRADIO 