January 2025
James J. Mammarella
jamesjdm@gmail.com
jamesjdm@gmail.com
Bio Note: The theme of promises kept or broken made me think of the grandfather I never knew. After divorcing my grandmother, Bernard joined the U.S. Merchant Marine, first sailing in March 1945. The career took him all over the planet, and his alcoholism with him. I did some sailing the last two summers, and pondered my grandfather’s identity. The other poem is a jaunty riff on things missed. I am a member of the Italian American Writers Association. I self-published a chapbook Sonnets for Silvertoes in 2014; and the sonnets "Three for Dominick" in VIA/Voices in Italian Americana in September 2023.
Bernie, we never knew ye
it isn’t that we hardly knew ye, Bernie — we ne’er knew ye. sailed away, quite actually, drank away not sunk lashed yrself to what mast? to roving only made ye fast Tokyo by Panama Cairo and tropics far, under crab and goat your craft did float lashed yrself to what mast? to roving only made ye fast moons spun to years bottles filled of tears, then tossed no torpedo cleft your bark, but — shipmate brawls left their mark. from time to time you penned a line I would read them all and learn of distance… lashed yrself to what mast? to roving only made ye fast one palimpsest life a man with hands gruff, might tame a scrimshaw token we your spawn could impute e’er rolling dawn all tears erase ’mid doubts anon; at sea your face alit, and calm perhaps the heart within round oceans’ road grew full again.
Excuse me, Miss—What’d I Miss?
Musing on dating and other oddly perplexing pursuits I’m too city too suburban too country too Southern… I’m too gritty too spaced out too flirty too sarcastic-hurty… I often get blurty! guess what? I missed the party missed the boat missed the bonfire missed the movie, read the book I missed you!! Give me please a look must’ve missed the memo - my metoo crashed the venmo - but at least my brat swiped tiktok like a cat I missed out, won’t pout about it - nay: I’ll flout this long loveless drout take life up the snout a wee sprout grown stout I missed watering but not wintering I rarely missed stargazing but almost missed the ball like Cinderella or like Gehrig I mighta missed your call; missed last spring live fulltime in fall - guess I missed my calling missed it raw really missed out - but I wasn’t missed at all… Who I was meant to be like a major mystery to me; missed the exit missed the curtain call I misted up, missing you in the mirror - missed you getting queerer missed our maw and paw missed the dog’s proffered paw missed like in the maudlin saw missed all the give and take icebreaker in the early thaw missed the party, like I said: you’ll all miss me - when you’re dead.
©2025 James J. Mammarella
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL