Christopher Cianci:
CLASS OF 1974
Penncrest High SchoolClass of 1974
Media, PA
Widener UniversityClass of 1978
Chester, PA
Christopher's Story
7/2/09 New poetry posting:
Loathing Lichen
Not
ever-flowing
like the eternal Tao-
vigor prolapses into
deep purple deltas,
decorating temples
as leaf veins in autumn.
Budding ardor dead-headed,
as arbors grow congested.
Roots tapped of vigor,
vegetation neglected-
broken stems seeping,
as they dribble after leaking
malodorous nitrogenous waste.
No console in plump rose hips
or smooth beech bark limbs-
the apple blossoms' bosom
or aromatic herbal patches.
Enduring downhill spiral
from the crown
of weeping willow
to the damp
and mossy hollows,
where the
creepy crawlers
gather.
Christopher William Cianci
Copyright 2009
-----------------------------
Arisen
Come walk with me now
back to that special eve-
when yond tarnished gates,
we danced death's reprieve.
Through thick nightfall's heat,
bayed the hounds of doom-
decreed impatience
for the muggy loom.
Tombstones lay crooked
in guise of bad teeth.
Dusk's clime, a deep haze-
Sol's rays strained to seek.
Heavens aglow with
cumulous, blood-veined,
we roamed arm-in-arm
midst limestone tearstained.
Pondered brief lives of
kinfolk heretofore.
Wrapped in lover's arms,
prized life all the more.
Cooling on marble,
excitement grew nigh.
Crimson dimmed to pitch,
twixt ivory thighs.
Death cannot invade
our red satin nights.
As secretions pool,
passion's bloom requites.
Listened intently
to whispering eyes.
In wake of sweet moans,
danced blithe fireflies.
Christopher William Cianci
Copyright 2009
---------------------------
When Black Friday Comes
Sobbing evergreens are muted
in wake of chainsaws screaming.
Listen to the feeble timbre
of loathing lumber in mourning.
Their syrupy tears caramelize
due to the heat of friction.
Reduced to nothing more than stump-
with their lofty spines all broken.
Stripped of bark and majesty-
their naked grain now showing.
A century of nurture,
toppled in a single moment.
Cruelly, they crash upon earth
in a stifling sawdust blizzard...
...troubled by these ruminations-
corralled like cows for slaughter,
as wooden puppets we await
for IKEA's doors to open!
Christopher William Cianci
Copyright 2009
------------------------------
Safe Harbor
...Expand for more
Sipping Singapore Slings
on a ship to Shanghai,
aboard a shakedown cruise
beneath star-strangled nights.
Sea winds become music-
the waves, a woman's hips.
Adventures foreshadowed
within jade mirrored swells.
The crew readies their ropes,
as moorings spread their thighs.
Next port-o-call issues
smoke - music - buzzing crowds.
Exotic dancers call
from sultry cabarets,
while steamer bellies rust
in stagnant inky brine.
Christopher William Cianci
Copyright 2009
--------------------------
Flotsam
Pollen is adrift
upon the ill winds,
yellowing my sphere
in jaundice fashion.
Choking on the smoke
of bridges burning-
bile boils up my throat,
fouling words unspoken.
Bobbing like poppies
on aged battlefields,
drowned metaphors bloat
in the languid brine.
So lovely, floating-
within tidal pools,
face down was always
the best side of you.
Christopher William Cianci
Copyright 2009
---------------------------------
My poetry was published!
Find it on Amazon. Search Books with Christopher William Cianci for:
The Baker's Dozen: The Cole Foundation Collection, Vol. 2 (Paperback)
_______________________________________
Now a Virologist by trade, I have published over 30 scientific papers. However, as much as I am a scientist, I am an artist. The two go hand-in-hand: To be innovative at work, one must be creative in recline.
In addition to writing poetry, I am a painter of watercolors and a bonsai enthusiast. I enjoy the culinary arts and fine wines, relaxing on the beach, and gardening. Although I lived and was brought-up in Pennsylvania, I developed a love for the surf and sand from spending my summers on the Eastern Seaboard of the New Jersey Shore. I continue to reside on the coast of the New England area, off the Long Island Sound.
During my High School Days I strived to be an individual and express my free and adventurous spirit. Somewhat of an Independent, I was never a member of any particular clique, but tried to befriend one and all. I was a bit of wild-child and somewhat of a class-clown. Sometimes I wish that I had been less introverted at that time and worked harder at establishing relationships with more classmates.
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