Showing posts with label Anthony Buccino. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anthony Buccino. Show all posts
January 31, 2016
ROAMING THE AISLES OF TJ MAXX
I’m wondering did she say meet her at Saks?
I can’t spot her at all in the dresses or slacks
She would look good in the reds, blues and blacks
She gets so mad I don’t listen, then she attacks
She would never go camping, rain or shine, in plastic macs
July 22, 2012
SOME DREAMS ARE NOT MEANT TO COME TRUE
They are meant to be longed for
A shining light ahead,
a tall tale with no truth
a tall tale with no truth
A simple wish for things that were
They are meant to spark feelings
Simmer emotions, and sympathies,
or stored in a box
or stored in a box
Inside a lonely mind
Left to rattle precariously
In less than copacetic
syncopation or sickie
syncopation or sickie
Tiki tave sound alikes
-- Copyright © 2010-2012 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
February 8, 2012
Bug Juice
Cowboys, Indians, horses, sailors, blue marines
and soldiers from almost every war
packed my toy box tins and cardboard boxes
in the bedroom I shared and living room too.
 |
| Courtesy IPFinance blog |
On the open Singer was the ranch, high in the mountain
where I’d set up all the horses and block them in,
using rows of spools of Mom’s colorful thread.
I’d post a lookout or two at the top of the round disk spinner
and another lookout atop the spout where the needle jigged
its thread through the hole to the hidden spool.
My favorite cowboys sat nearby in a circle telling tales
around a fire by the chuck wagon and oh, so slowly,
I brought on either the Indians or rustlers
over the drawer handles to sneak up and swipe stallions.
A snapped twig would set the stage for the big fight,
a free-for-all where the rustlers would fall,
my favorite cowboys winged
and afterward, as the last of the bad guys ran off
or were stacked in a pile of dead-for-now,
my guys, the heroes, returned to the campfire
for black coffee, hard tack and tall tales.
When I first went camping
with the Boy Scouts
out in the far reaches
of Wildcat Lake in Blairstown
where mosquitos drowned in our drinks,
I half expected bad guys of some sort
to rush down from the mountain top
and we’d use our kerchiefs
and scout knives to fend them off
and save our bug juice.
- By Anthony Buccino
First published in Poetry Quarterly Winter 2010
Included in AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
This version varies from earlier editions
Copyright © 2010, 2012 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
November 11, 2011
ROLL CALL
Where does she get those names
the names she reads every Sunday
when we are in church
you know, right after we pray for the sick
and we pray for those church members who have died
and for those in the room having tough times
and for the families we know
and their soldiers off at war.
Where does he get those names
the names of the week’s fallen
on two fronts of the war
their ages from the teens to fifties or so
and those names, some so hard to pronounce
where does she get those names
and when will the list stop?
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
Honor the Fallen
Faces of the Fallen
the names she reads every Sunday
when we are in church
you know, right after we pray for the sick
and we pray for those church members who have died
and for those in the room having tough times
and for the families we know
and their soldiers off at war.
Where does he get those names
the names of the week’s fallen
on two fronts of the war
their ages from the teens to fifties or so
and those names, some so hard to pronounce
where does she get those names
and when will the list stop?
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
Honor the Fallen
Faces of the Fallen
November 2, 2011
Sometimes I Swear In Italian
Sometimes I Swear In Italian
By Anthony Buccino
Anthony Buccino's collection Sometimes I Swear In Italian is about growing up Italian American in New Jersey, discovering the roots of his ancestors.
Read about the old neighborhood where the 'bianca lina' man sold bleach to make the white linens, the young boy growing up in the house his grandfather built, and living upstairs from his scary grandma who spoke no English.
This American boy discovers the land his ancestors left to make a better life for him and his generation. The pigeons that follow him throughout Italy provide the connection to his father - who raised homers - who didn't speak English until he started school - the rich heritage of the old country, and the enormous sacrifice of his grandparents.
Despite its title, Sometimes I Swear In Italian contains no profanity in any language.
More about the collection
More about the collection
October 19, 2011
CANNED booted, bumped, down-sized, fired
CANNED Booted, bumped, down-sized, fired, forced out, hated, hired, jobless, laid off, let go, out of work, out-sourced, pink-slipped, terminated, sacked, unemployed
By Anthony Buccino
The hard-hitting truth about being out of work, the strains that tag along and the sinking boat you feel you're riding in. This collection deals with a difficult subject in a very real way. It's strength is its realness and that is also its greatest weakness. It's not for the faint of heart. A must-have for anyone who deals in human resources, personnel, recruitment, job placement, or has been fired, laid-off and is out of work.
October 12, 2011
Sixteen Inches on Center
SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER
Father viewed through a grown son's eyes.
By Anthony Buccino
Seeing a father through a grown son's eyes. The son of a World War II veteran looks at the 20-plus years they had together, the missteps the missed opportunities, and the things that remain.
October 5, 2011
Retrieving Labrador Days, dog tales in prose and verse
Stories about each of his three Labrador retrievers and some of the other dogs and people whose lives they touched.
By Anthony Buccino
Shaggy dogs, mutts, mongrels, three Labrador retrieves and a pet rabbit inspire the stories and poems in this collection. Pets of one kind or another have share the past six decades of the author's life, and here are some stories that will make you laugh out loud, and others that remind you of escapades and exasperation you've been through with your own pets.
More On Kindle NOOK
September 28, 2011
American Boy, Pushing Sixty
About life and growing up in New Jersey in the 1950s,1960s, and 1970s, and growing older in the 1980s, 1990s and the oughts.
By Anthony Buccino
From the center of the Baby Boom, this working class verse begins under a wooden class room desk as an air raid siren sounds, and captures the summer spell and its simplicity in drinking water from a garden hose.
"I read your book through and through twice. Absolutely enjoyed it. Your words flow so freely."
September 21, 2011
Voices on the Bus
by Anthony Buccino
Verse about commuting in Northern New Jersey.
More
On Kindle NOOK
September 14, 2011
One Morning in Jersey City
Verse written along the Hudson River in Jersey City, N.J.
By Anthony Buccino
You can hear a lot by looking around. Sometimes, standing along the Hudson River shoreline, you can dream of the freedom in the sailing beauty slipping through the waves, or question the signals proffered by a hungry seagull, or ponder why the pigeons follow you. Or you could sit ever so still and listen to the clatter of heels on the tile as the cigarette mafia heads outside for fresh air. You probably don't think of this as a 9/11 book, most readers don't, but that's what it is. In 1999, divine providence put me in a job on the eighth floor of a building directly across the Hudson River from lower Manhattan and the Twin Towers.
For the next ten years I saw Jersey City's building boom and strolled along the Riverwalk with Manhattan just a glance away. I could walk out on a pier and look north to the Washington Bridge and south to the Verrazano Bridge all the while soaking up the ambiance of city life in the shadow of a big city across the way.
And so, this book that resulted in 2008 is a bit of before, some every day life, and some after. Just thought you might like to know that.
On Kindle NOOK
December 1, 2010
RITUAL (second tier decorations)
In the cold attic they wait.
The heat of summer long gone,
the chill of December wheezing through
eave vents, we pull down drop-stairs
and peer into the darkness above.
Flip the light, start shifting boxes
hand them down to the second floor.
Sort house decorations to the top of the stairs,
boxes of ornaments and tree lights
into the spare room.
Boxes done, light off, stairs up.
Begin the first floor boxes.
Sorting and primping.
The singing mouse goes on the TV.
The snowman collection to the mantel.
The Santa collectibles to the breakfront.
The mistletoe to the doorway, and the wire mesh basket
to the finishing nail on the back of the front door
to await Christmas cards that will overflow.
The tree light box decorations to the end of the sofa
next to the three-foot stuffed Santa.
Another Santa sits on the stairs awaiting cover of darkness
to trip someone. (Usually me.)
until all the good decorations
are out and the second tier decorations
are back in their boxes, the boxes that go
up to the attic to await the passing
of the holiday when all the ornaments
will be together again in the silent darkness
of our attic.
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used without written permission.
BTW - That chemistry set in the back never did come to anything good except in the decision not to pursue the sciences...
******************
November 30, 2010
FINGERNAILS
Fingernails scratch the paper,
They point at a blank page.
A voice says, "Write something!"
So, he writes: "Fingernails
scratch the paper,
They point to a blank page."
#468
1974
-- Copyright © 1974, 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
First published in DAYS YOU KNEW ME.
Written overlooking the baseball fields in Brookdale Park, Montclair/Bloomfield, N.J.
November 29, 2010
ONE TRUE LOVE
ONE TRUE LOVE
Did you spend the last fifty years with her
in the morning kitchen worrying together
through evening bouts of doubt
Are the children safe?
The grand kids okay?
Will the K-car start tomorrow?
Can we afford to fix it if it won’t?
What’s on cable TV tonight?
Is your dog getting enough cheese?
Did your one true love leave you
looking like a frigging penguin
standing alone outside the prom hall
with that stupid look on your face?
What about those wild nights
and the long rides
and the long talks?
Where did those endless roads lead?
But for your one true love to someone else
and you shifting through an empty cupboard.
Have you carried around your broken heart
crushed so long ago by your one true love
or have you mended and moved on
to find the one other person in this world
who could love you this much?
Do the stitches in your mended heart still sting?
Do they twitter and twitch with reminded regrets
on those days when nothing will go your way
and you long for the one true love who got away,
forgetting for an instant the one who holds your hand?
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino
Photo and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
in the morning kitchen worrying together
through evening bouts of doubt
Are the children safe?
The grand kids okay?
Will the K-car start tomorrow?
Can we afford to fix it if it won’t?
What’s on cable TV tonight?
Is your dog getting enough cheese?
Did your one true love leave you
looking like a frigging penguin
standing alone outside the prom hall
with that stupid look on your face?
What about those wild nights
and the long rides
and the long talks?
Where did those endless roads lead?
But for your one true love to someone else
and you shifting through an empty cupboard.
crushed so long ago by your one true love
or have you mended and moved on
to find the one other person in this world
who could love you this much?
Do the stitches in your mended heart still sting?
Do they twitter and twitch with reminded regrets
on those days when nothing will go your way
and you long for the one true love who got away,
forgetting for an instant the one who holds your hand?
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino
Photo and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
November 28, 2010
WHAT'S IT LIKE TO BE
What’s it like to be
Married to different people
At different times, of course,
But how is it different?
Do you spend a lot of time
Comparing this one with that one?
Do you try not to repeat mistakes
That you’ve learned?
What is it like
Each day to be with
Somebody who is
Different than the one
You thought you’d spend
The rest of your days with?
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
Married to different people
At different times, of course,
But how is it different?
Do you spend a lot of time
Comparing this one with that one?
Do you try not to repeat mistakes
That you’ve learned?
What is it like
Each day to be with
Somebody who is
Different than the one
You thought you’d spend
The rest of your days with?
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved.
November 27, 2010
FIRST KISS
 |
| No wonder he had to steal a kiss! (1970) |
A Saturday after Thanksgiving in a stranger’s church.
My first kiss was a surprise, not for me,
I’d been thinking about it all night.
But she was surprised when she tried
to shake my hand in peace I charged in
and stole that kiss.
Her light blue eyes – I am still remembering
And the round cheeks of her smiling face
That Saturday I kissed her.
It was the only time.
On Monday we headed back to Jersey
And I never saw her again.
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
Remembering November 1970
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
November 26, 2010
AQUARIUM
AQUARIUM
Somehow it seemed
I got everything I wanted.
I wanted a German shepherd,
I got a mutt named Butch.
I wanted an aquarium
just like my friend Rich had.
His had guppies and swordfish
and neon tetras, catfish and snails, too.
I wanted an aquarium
and the fish and the purple gravel
and the lighted lid and aerator pump
and the wrought iron stand
that went with it all.
I wanted to set up the pump
that made the bubbles
come out of the diver's mask.
Dad said no to the fish tank
and Ma said I'd pay for it myself
and Dad said, in his best dad voice,
"That's not the point."
He never said what the point was.
My aquarium had angel hair in the filter
and fish down below a floating wooden block
the turtles sat on after I fed them baloney
in the water, or until they got soft and died.
On the bottom, in the gravel
I set up Dad’s shells from the Fijis.
Rich and I kept Grant's pet department
going and made fun of the old lady
who sold plecostomus catfish.
My guppies all ate their babies
and the other fish got ich.
I kept that aquarium through
my teen years and then
set it up again in my house.
But lately it's been in the attic
for how many years, who knows?
I know now I never knew
what I wanted
and I still don't.
- By Anthony Buccino
from SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
Somehow it seemed
I got everything I wanted.
I wanted a German shepherd,
I got a mutt named Butch.
I wanted an aquarium
just like my friend Rich had.
His had guppies and swordfish
and neon tetras, catfish and snails, too.
I wanted an aquarium
and the fish and the purple gravel
and the lighted lid and aerator pump
and the wrought iron stand
that went with it all.
I wanted to set up the pump
that made the bubbles
come out of the diver's mask.
Dad said no to the fish tank
and Ma said I'd pay for it myself
and Dad said, in his best dad voice,
"That's not the point."
He never said what the point was.
My aquarium had angel hair in the filter
and fish down below a floating wooden block
the turtles sat on after I fed them baloney
in the water, or until they got soft and died.
On the bottom, in the gravel
I set up Dad’s shells from the Fijis.
Rich and I kept Grant's pet department
going and made fun of the old lady
who sold plecostomus catfish.
My guppies all ate their babies
and the other fish got ich.
I kept that aquarium through
my teen years and then
set it up again in my house.
But lately it's been in the attic
for how many years, who knows?
I know now I never knew
what I wanted
and I still don't.
- By Anthony Buccino
from SIXTEEN INCHES ON CENTER
Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
November 25, 2010
DON’T TRUST MYSELF
DON’T TRUST MYSELF
I don’t trust myself
to be here years from now
When it’s time to retire,
kick off my shoes, and
Slip into that coma of retirement.
It’s a matter of all those things
that came before
Finally coming around
to get their due
And collect the toll to pay
that appears too large.
I don’t trust myself to change
the few things left to change
That would make up for decades past
in the few decades to come
And alter the visions
the soothsayer’s seen.
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
I don’t trust myself
to be here years from now
When it’s time to retire,
kick off my shoes, and
Slip into that coma of retirement.
It’s a matter of all those things
that came before
Finally coming around
And collect the toll to pay
that appears too large.
I don’t trust myself to change
the few things left to change
That would make up for decades past
in the few decades to come
And alter the visions
the soothsayer’s seen.
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
November 24, 2010
PALS
PALS
In the middle of the night
the TV lights the room
he snores in the recliner
the big dog alongside him
snores almost in unison.
The TV show neither one sees
and neither one hears,
a movie repeated from before
when they fell asleep
at the early edge of night.
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
******************
In the middle of the night
the TV lights the room
he snores in the recliner
the big dog alongside him
snores almost in unison.
The TV show neither one sees
and neither one hears,
a movie repeated from before
when they fell asleep
at the early edge of night.
-- Copyright © 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
******************
November 23, 2010
ALL THE BEST FOODS
ALL THE BEST FOODS
Turns out the little pills
they assign you every day
that fix your cholesterol
and manage your sugar
and keep your blood steady
and fix a bunch of things
that won't fix themselves
and as you take that
handful of meds
you are reminded
to drink more water
because water is good for you
but not too much water, you know,
you have a separate pill for that
And remember those pills
you take by the handful
some work best on an empty stomach
and some work best
after you've eaten a meal
but with all of them you'll find
the foods you ate all your life
and all your favorites
are the foods you can no longer have
and this will help you live longer
thanks, what ever for?
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
The poem was first published in RATTLESNAKE REVIEW 12/2007
Copyright © 2007, 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
Photo from Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum, NYC, by Anthony Buccino
******************
Turns out the little pills
they assign you every day
that fix your cholesterol
and manage your sugar
and keep your blood steady
and fix a bunch of things
that won't fix themselves
and as you take that
handful of meds
you are reminded
to drink more water
because water is good for you
but not too much water, you know,
you have a separate pill for that
And remember those pills
you take by the handful
some work best on an empty stomach
and some work best
after you've eaten a meal
but with all of them you'll find
the foods you ate all your life
and all your favorites
are the foods you can no longer have
and this will help you live longer
thanks, what ever for?
- By Anthony Buccino
From AMERICAN BOY: Pushing Sixty
On Kindle
The poem was first published in RATTLESNAKE REVIEW 12/2007
Copyright © 2007, 2010 by Anthony Buccino, all rights reserved. Photos and content may not be used for commercial purposes without written permission.
Photo from Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum, NYC, by Anthony Buccino
******************
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)