The night moth flutters,
Seeks the yellow light
A tree stands at life to wait,
Leaves sway to die, then bare limbs
….The silent cry
He leans her against dark bark,
He hears wind, smells perfume
…. Afraid to drink of her eyes
Comes now the sound so so lost to him
The touch of soft lips,
…. A survivor’s begin
Yes… a kiss can be music,
A kiss to forget thee unsung fate
The sound travels through and through,
Causing a heart… never to be blue
By: George Martorano
Well to all and all …tis today the 30th day from a forever life of en-cage-ment…..for me! for me! the sunshine speaks, clouds laugh and birds do smile..smile at me…..yet world, I never gave up recreating from a cell, joining the words kept me going, going through the hate and tears of numbered men ….. but and so I have a job to do, do even if, here, wave after wave distracts with coming breath of granted in continuance of free moving life…..
ok then world.. look for more postings and do call it our dating and maybe just maybe maybe we shall fall in love
I subscribe myself
So be it. Label me free. And there is many movements of clock’s day. Movements all with; taste, touch, smell, sound and sights anew. So much so that I breathe deep, I have to, to go through the day’s movements. To see just the blue eyes of a girl across the sunlit way, tis like a pleasant stab to eye and mind. Oh then there’s the laughter of running children, hair that flies, a palm trees waves… and I breathe. Yes, the movement of free day. In truth, what can I say.
I say’th thus. no-one caged on planet earth has taught and graduated more prisoners in lifestyle change classes than I. Yet, as I write this I am at a loss within your free world, with its so fast technology. But, God has sent someone. My loving niece Nicolina. Sh,e is part of heart as my daughter Francesca. This niece is my teacher, with cell phone, computer and much more…. She is lovely. She has special needs…. She holds my hand, talks so, guides me so and shows me after 32+ years in the world of steel and stone. She smiles, she understands my not understanding. She cares as she kisses my cheek.
Prison is a brutal place. It is of security period. No, free prisoners especially those like I who have languished in cells are truly at a loss as if once free placed upon a barren land. America there are thousands like me who do not know the simplicity or the complex of current technology…. For we are not allowed to learn period. And yes there are some basic computer use yet nothing of what I have been experiencing the last few weeks with Nicolina.
While walking under sun-filled day and passing a church. My Nicolina stopped…. She placed her palms together…. “Dear God, thank you bring my Uncle George home, THANK YOU.”
By George Martorano 11/1/2015
It has not rained since my short release from prison. It did today. And yes, although rain tis rain… tis not today. For my loving daughter Francesca is now by my side. You see, the first rain drop was for me. Yet, each and all that fell after that. Each rain drop that come’th. Could not and could never match a father’s love I have for her.
“Drop by drop the rain drops of love.
My God it knows where to direct.
Upon me oh do drop and fall.
And my love last till the forever end of all.”
BY: George (a father) Martorano