The Distance Between Hopes and Dreams: Poems

By Charles Lobaito

In The Distance between Hopes and Dreams, author Charles Lobaito presents a collection of poetry that embodies and explores the human spirit. We all wish to be great, and we all dream beyond the heights of our imagination. The verses contained here examine those wishes and dreamstheir conception and their accomplishment.

Each poem in this volume offers a journeya literary awakening into the places we know and beyond. The collection combines three books of poetry into one volume. Perception of the Navigator focuses on seizing ones destiny. The Epiphany Maker explores the abstract and the discovery of fate. Notebooks from the Past reflects on life in its search for peace.

From love to war, hope to promise, history to time, freedom to knowledge, the verses in this collection share honest, witty, and philosophical considerations of life at the dawn of the twenty-first century. The Distance between Hopes and Dreams seeks to bring out the poet and dreamer in all of us.

If Dreams Were Keys Thered Be No Locks

Door I

If dreams were keys thered be no locks,
All prisons empty, true love run amok!
Fat angels would smile with rifles, and socks:
To target the banana-strawberry heart.

Door II

Without any locks, lions would hunt
Like beasts, to pounce, thus reinvent pun,
Or breed like citizens for sport, and court:
Under the vanilla paper bag sun

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462045655

Charles Lobaito

Charles Lobaito was born in Plainfield, New Jersey, and currently resides in South Amboy, New Jersey. He attended Middlesex County College and the University of Central Oklahoma, with a major in English. In addition to writing, he has an established career in business and retail management. This is his fourth book of poetry.

Book preview

Contents

BOOK I

Part I

Written Are The Unwritten Laws

The Cost For Love

Dawn Patrol

Hope Is A Weapon

The Tall Tale Of Love

The Astronaut’s Song

Biorhythm

Like I Was Saying

America In The First

The Proximity Of Rationale’s

Judgment On Happiness

The Falcon Princess

Part II

I, Indivisible

Elevation Is A Station

That Rests In The Mind

Modern Thought

Guiding Principles

The Observer

If Dreams Were Keys

There’d Be No Locks

Sweet Notations,

How May I Serve You

Dreaming Of The Beginning

While Lost In New York City

Reality’s Fable

Radiation Of The Heart

Love For Lust

BOOK II

Part III

Floating On The Banner

Of A Dream

Wall Street Blues

Of Distances

When Building Liberty

Pyramids

Power, The Definition

Over The Mountains

And Thru The Dune

Self-Respect

Particle Roads

The Oceanographer

Truths Are Writen In

Half-Light By God

Peer Pressure, According To

The Diary Of Moxy Hunter

To Whom It May Concern

Lightning In A Jar

Guardian Angel

The Alphabet Clock

Of Twilight Hearts

Part IV

A Letter To The World,

A Poem To The Universe

The Activist Elitist

Time, Nestled In Human Hands

Loose Cannon

Heart Murmur

Ode: The American Eagle

Vice Versa

Dreams Are For Heroes

Vapor Trails

Consciousness, The Labor Of Love Is Divine

The Hanged Man

BOOK III

Part V

Triumphant Are The Days

Of The Week

Under The Transient Sun

To All Things Certain

Audible Heart Poem

Clear Skies For Passersby

Faster Than The Speed

Of Thought

Quotes For Sale

Fortune Favors The Living,

According To End Of Days

The Oracle

The Muse Of Truth

Part VI

Valentine To My Queen

Hellenistic Art

Charms

Integers For Pictures

A Sacred Sunny Tale

Shortfalls Of Heaven

Memories Are Like Pictures

The Philosopher’s Song

Pandora’s Attic

The Dream Already Here

Magnum Opus

Last Poem Of The Century

(to those who believe in me)

BOOK I

PERCEPTION

Of The

NAVIGATOR

Part I

Radius of Sound

Written Are The Unwritten Laws

Written are the unwritten laws

In the eyes of an eagle perched

On a grave, in a field beyond

Two-dimensional worlds, through

A maze, or cage in silent solar systems

Unanimous with anonymity’s grades,

To protect proof’s treasure from invading

Aliens who are hungry for chicken, deep-

Fried by God, which taste finger licking

Good, almost like crispy, crunchy

Psalms over a lost Viking holiday.

While unwritten are the written laws

On a sunrise postcard locked in a diary,

Via a dream, with hooks chasing sharks

Who are diving into vortex portals,

Hiding to shop their beauty instead

Of brains, for five, and five singles,

Because all human ants are willing

To work, likewise ready to leave

A century worth transcribing

Applications to a heaven, worth

Remembering not to charge.

The Cost For Love

Whatever’s the cost for love I accept,

Unconditionally into the stratosphere of one,

That is, if you’re willing to accept my true heart.

Which I’m confident you will! But just in case

I’ll stand in the desert sun till my bones bleach—

Whatever’s the cost for love. I would accept

Any price, climb a mountain of a thousand skulls

And sell my paperback soul to the Romans for your hand.

But are you willing to accept my true heart?

As thin, porcelain angels circle the earth, I rotate

The hourglass of your hips, and drink molten gold!

There is no cost for love. I accept

This decision as final, like facts cemented in curiosity.

I would shower in heaven’s fire to kiss your lips—

That is, if you’re willing to accept my true heart.

O, darling, when in night, the cedar stars

Burn, crackle and fade: lonely dreams will become

Dusty memories– the atypical truth remains.

Whatever’s the cost for love I accept.

That is, if you’re willing to accept my true heart.

Dawn Patrol

What comes to my mind beyond the gleam

Of an unsprung vision through a distant accord

Is the pulse of my shadow ebbing beyond radiant dreams,

To lift my proud soul into the presence of dusk.

I sit on the stoop of our apartment steps wide-awake

Waiting for the sun to rise, and smile with her company.

A cool drop of mist wakes the caterpillar

Up from his dream beyond instances,

Blanched with a garrison of forked promises

I cannot tell whether to laugh, or leave my post!

For inspiration, I aim above the rooftops of our complex

Into the adjustment of my 19/20 vision,

To witness the spectacular watercolor night bleach

Her sky, black velvet into blue light scarlet

Subconsciously beyond the gestures of a titillating horizon.

The shadow of yesterday’s moon is now behind me,

Tipping the cran-apple trees a dollar an hour

To dance for the wind, to pick up a breeze

So I can whistle to the sparrow hiding

Out in the chimney next to the laundry room!

There’s a phantom in the bushes

Or a squirrel drunk on skunk, while the spider

Spins in fancy for an upcoming snack.

The morning workers are still fast asleep, I suppose

Sprawling over gray linen sheets this fine

Delicate Tuesday. The grand vernal sky begins

To climb her ladder with confidence, as one by two

The stars fade away, as if they were commissioned to do so

In plain speech: to welcome the sunbeam when he arrives!

It’s 5am, and the light is early.

The light is fortunate I am letting him go!

The cricket begins to yawn, the lightning bug tries,

My patience is respected by those who adore me.

The sky is cloudless! Because of my static radio, it complies!

True lovers peek out of their windows with delight!

Our terraces are tall for the roses to sing

What they will, or wish about this upcoming day.

(I believe the sun is a gold coin comprised of great energy

And fever fermented by God for our perceptions to indulge!)

Alas, the mighty day blows her trumpet!

The air is a degree warmer! My heart a beat stronger!

The courtyard a bit brighter! The day a minute longer!

The green grass thickens into the daylight

For a reward, while all the parking lights switch off

Simply for the benefits of their cause.

I set my watch back, past the minutes of recorded time

To understand the true meaning of life, once rehearsed.

The far egg yoke of existence rises up from the east,

My job is done when I get the thumbs up!

Hope Is A Weapon

Hope is a weapon that is used to create destruction,

That is, if you believe in the miracle of life

And justification of death

Beyond innocent crow droppings,

In the mouths of listeners

Traveling across country

For the sale of a century—longevity’s

Half off of half off—prep the tanks.

We’re heading in!

Haven’t you noticed every dream is a wish,

Every frail wish a fairytale dream—the symbol

Of purple blouses flung across dead elm trees,

Like flags torn in midwinter, as jackals converge

Alongside frozen ponds and champagne

Limestone graveyards, to honor the dead!

Church organs from the corner of scientific studies

Are somberly heard through CD player prayer,

While capitalism markets rest, the way fashion

Admires