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

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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, Floridaamerica 913

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

The Art of Erotic Writing WWW.I-NETRADIO.COM Nov 10 Mon

Mon Nov 10 WWW.I-NETRADIO.COM  erotic art 671– Felicity Johns and the Art of EROTIC WRITING. How to Write Erotic Literature, the Symbolism, the Meaning, the Effect it has on You. We will read some of Felicity’s greatest works and discuss her inspiration and the tales she seeks to tell. It’s All on WWW.I-NETRADIO.COM on Mon Nov 10 at 1, 4, 7, 10 PM EST NY – 10 AM San Francisco – 12 Noon Sioux City

Friendship, The Greatest Treasure in the World

Walking With a Friend

We were walking down the sandy path

A route we had taken many times before.

The sun was very hot above us and it reflected all around us.

We walked quietly, without saying a word,

But we knew that we were happy to be with each other.

At that moment there was no place we would have rather been.

We felt each other – we knew each other – we trusted each other.

My life would be diminished without her,

It would be emptier, unhappier, a bit sad.

Knowing that she was my friend,

That she would always be there for me,

And I would be the same for her,

This made me happy and feel safe.

In a world of danger and treachery,

She brought me inner peace and warmth,

And that was worth more than I could ever describe.

She was my friend,

And for that I will always be thankful.

James Tucci

Miami, Fla.

Sat Sun Aug 2, 3 WWW.I-NETRADIO.COM Friendship is the most valuable treasure in life It is your true wealth with Rosemarie J. Ferrer 1, 4, 7, 10 PM EDT NY – 10 AM Los Angeles – 6 PM London – 8 PM Moscow

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Medieval Trilogy Author Lory La Selva and How She Dreams These Things Up

Medieval Trilogy Author Lory La Selva and How She Dreams These Things Up

Mon June 9 – http://WWW.I-NETRADIO.COM Writer Lory La Selva Paduano and the Fantasy World of Wonderland. Her Trilogy of Eroticism, Betrayal, Magic, Heroes, Medieval times, Battles and Discoveries. How she imagines all these fabulous tales. 1, 4, 7, 10 PM EDT NY – 10 AM PDT LA – 9 PM Moscow – 12 Noon Dallas – 6 PM London Find Lory’s Books on Amazon, eBay and at http://www.lorylaselvapaduano.com

The Via

The Via

The Via on Miami Beach

It was a beautiful place
A via led from the street to the water
The bay was aquamarine, full of green and blue and all a sparkle
The rays of the sun danced and skipped
Playing and frolicking over the ripples that lapped on the shore
The sky met the water forming a pure and perfect vista
Beckoning to all who stood there
To look and love the world
I was a day to be alive
A day to love and cherish
A day the gods above had made for us
To love
To be in love
To hold a woman
To feel her waist and her skin
To kiss her softly on her lips
To gaze into her eyes
To know that she was yours till the end of time
To be happy and filled with joy
Only because you were with her
As I approached she stopped and stood in front of the sea wall
Perfectly still it seemed
With the trace of a smile
Brown hair flowing down from her shoulders
Adorned in a white top and black shorts
Covering her breasts and her world below
But allowing for the imagination to run wild
Wild with thoughts of passion and desire
A desire to be with her now, right away
To touch her and worship her
She wore ballet slippers which bespoke a grace and everlasting beauty
Full of kindness style charm and elegance
Her gaze was in my direction
But was she really looking at me or somewhere else
Something beyond or around me
I reached her and she was gone
Just an illusion
Never to be seen again
Never to know what she yearned for and now would never have

James Tucci
At Prima Pasta and the Palm Bay Yacht Club
On Thursday night May 22, 2014
A night that was behind the bar
And the night was still and warm
And the palm fronds softly swayed in the breeze
And nary a ripple broke the placid glass on the Bay

The Girl I Never Met

The Girl I Never Met

The Girl I Never Met

The sun was setting as she walked into the house.
It was disappearing below the horizon rapidly.
All I saw was a glimpse of her
Her hair flowed to her shoulders
As she looked down at the steps
Rising into the beach bungalow
She wore shorts and a white t-shirt
From what I could see
She looked like a nice person
She reached for the screen door
At the same time the setting sun was no longer in the sky
As I looked back to see her for another second
I saw that she had entered the house
The next day I left the beach
I was never to see her again
Sometimes I wonder what became of her
But our meeting was not meant to be
She is only a memory without much meaning
But for some reason she lingers in my mind.

James Tucci

Image

Fall in the Tropics

 

 

 

It is October in Miami.

 

For those who have lived here for many years,

 

We sense the change in the seasons,

 

The air is not filled with water;

 

Nor are the skies.

 

The big heavy clouds have disappeared.

 

No longer is it ninety in the day.

 

Each evening the sun sets earlier,

 

As a big glowing orange ball,

 

That descends more rapidly,

 

As it nears the horizon.

 

When our toes first stab the surf,

 

The water is cool for a second,

 

Even if it is still rather warm for the rest of the world.

 

The flowers have stopped blooming on the trees.

 

We know that Thanksgiving and Christmas

 

Are just around the corner.

 

And for us the occasional chill of winter is on the way.

 

A well-earned respite from the dog-days of summer.

 

 

 

James Tucci

 

Miami, Florida

 

Russian Winter- Russian Soul

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

 

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