Patricia K Salamone

Just now ·

YouTube https://youtu.be/rzdTeP9Nqns
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I am so honored that my poem was chosen for this video.

A Realistic Poetry International Featured Poet ANGEL DEAR By: Patricia Salamone www.realisticpoetry.com
YOUTUBE.COM Please do watch this video and all comments are welcome. I am thrilled at the beautiful job that was done.


I lay in the hospital bed at Columbia Presbyterian in New York. It is ten thirty pm., and the nurses continue to give me enemas to clean out my colon. I can barely walk at this point and tell the nurse this is the last one. I feel like my legs won’t last another trip to the bathroom. The enemas stop and I am left with my thoughts about tomorrow morning. Will it be the last morning for me, will I never see my children again or my family for that matter. I left instructions with my husband and my sisters, they were trying to encourage me but with tears in their eyes. My children were four, nine and eleven. They needed me. I was only thirty nine and Cancer was my enemy. I prayed again that night to my God, please let me make it through this nightmare and stay here on this earth just until my children were old enough to take care of themselves, after that he could take me anytime he wanted, but not now, please not now. I drifted off to sleep and awoke or dreamed I awoke, and there sitting on my bed was my mom. She looked young and beautiful. I thought this couldn’t be true my mom had passed away nine years before, but there she was. I heard her voice telling me, “you will be fine I am here to take care of you, I will always take care of you”. I felt her hand caress my cheek I started to cry and remember asking her why? Why me? What about my kids, what will they do without me. She smiled at me and told me to go to sleep. I woke up to the voices of my husband, my sister and my brother. It was six am. I was due for surgery at seven. The nurse came in and shot something to calm me into the IV. I remember we professed our love for one another and my brother bent over and kissed my forehead and a tear from his eyes fell upon my cheek.

I was moved a few minutes later to surgery. It was so cold. Doctors and nurses all around me, a bright white light shining in my eyes, a voice telling me to count back from one hundred and then nothing. I remember thinking well if I die at least I won’t feel it. I didn’t die I woke up in the early evening and there they were my husband, sister and brother who was caressing my cheek and calling my name. I opened my eyes but couldn’t focus on their faces, I could just hear their voices. I fell back into a deep sleep. I dream t about the time I had pneumonia and my mom sat by my bed all night putting cool compresses on my forehead. I woke up and the sun was shining in my room. I raised my arm and felt a tube coming out of my nose and the sound of machines and then pain but that meant I made it. I didn’t die I would see my children again. No matter what happens after this doesn’t matter my mom kept her promise, she took care of me I was going to be fine.

I did get cancer again twice more in my life but I knew each time I would be fine because my mom would be there to take care of me. I am now going on 74, all of my children graduated university, have good jobs and married wonderful partners. They all have gifted me with beautiful grand children who bring so much joy to us. And, my mom watches.


The forest black, cold, frightening looms before me. My heart pounding, shaking fear is all I can feel. Frightful noises all around me, crackling branches thump as they hit the ground.
I want to step forward to see what I can see. I can not move, every fiber is frozen. I want to cry out help me please help me, my voice will not respond. I want to hang on to a branch to steady my shaking legs but my hand will not reach up. My throat dry the words stuck.
Suddenly I hear a voice calling my name in the distance. Again I hear the voice this time stronger still. It gives me courage. I will go to it, what is it saying? It is my savior, it is my helping hand. I find my strength, my feet start to move, my feet feel the ground beneath them now. The voice is clear now. The fear is gone. I am not lost.
It is my mom’s voice, she is calling me in from the garden, it’s time for lunch.

Suprisingly I found this it is from my elementary school days. I think it was from fourth or fifth grade. I changed a couple of the words but the rest is original.

Double Rainbow

double rainbow

I never realized that a double rainbow was unusual but apparently it is. This was captured by me in Naro, Sicily when we were visiting our family. It was taken from the back patio of our cousins patio at between 5:30 and 6:00am. I am posting it especially for a blogger ‘Little Lord Dandelion Books.’ However I hope all who see this enjoy the view. :o)

FIRST TRUE LOVE By:Patricia Salamone

I hesitated to write about this. It was so many years ago, but lasted a life time. I was sixteen when I met him, (I will refer to him as L.J.) he was 13 years older than me. I was an operator and he called for information and did not know the correct name, I told him that I would call him back with the information if he would like. L.J. was friendly and funny. I liked his voice, it sounded sincere and he had a beautiful laugh. He gave me his number and made me promise to call him. I did.

I called him back with the information on my lunch hour. He thanked me and then started chatting with me. He was funny and sweet all at the same time. I also promised to call him back the next day. L.J. was older than me by 13 years. He told me he loved my voice and asked me questions about my family. He also asked me how old I was. I told him the truth. I would be seventeen the following month. He told me he was twenty nine. He owned a company in New York City. He was single and lived with his family. Mother, Father, Brothers and a Sister.

We spoke almost daily for over a year. I was falling in love with a voice on the telephone.

He finally asked me to come to his home for Sunday dinner. He assured my parents he was not a killer or a nut. He did have a disability. He was blind. My parents agreed to let me go for dinner. They liked him immediately. I had a wonderful time. His family treated me like they knew me forever. L.J. was kind, funny, handsome, smart, and understanding. I fell in love with his family almost instantly.

The first time I kissed him was the following year at a New Years Eve party at his home. I was so in love with him, but did not have the nerve to tell him. I thought he would reject me because of our age difference, and I was an eighteen year old girl with no life experience. He was a grown man, and very worldly. I thought he felt the same way but he never told me so.

At eighteen I started going out with my friends and meeting other guys. However I still called L.J. and he never refused to take my calls. Our relationship or friendship, I really didn’t know what it was. It went on for years. When I was twenty I met a young man that  I thought I fell in love with. I called L.J. to let him know. I thought he would tell me that he loved me, but no. I married the following year.

We kept in touch for many years. He was there when I went through my divorce. He called me all the time trying to comfort me. I had been married for about ten years and had two children.

He called me one day to tell me he was getting married. I was silent. He asked me if I was happy for him. I told him no. I also finally told him how much I loved him since I was a teenager. Now it was his turn to get quiet. He asked me why I didn’t tell him. I told him I thought he would make fun of me. I asked him why he didn’t tell me. He told me he thought I would make fun of him, especially since he was so much older and blind to boot. We both cried. I wished him well and we said good bye for the last time.

I never forgot him, his imprint was always in my heart. He was my first true love. That was over thirty years ago.

Last night for some reason I had a dream about L.J.. It was such a beautiful dream and I felt so much love in it. When I woke up I was puzzled why I dreamt about him. I thought about him all day. Something made me punch his name in the computer, and there it was,his Obituary. He had passed away. I cried, again my heart was broken. Yet I felt his presence, I felt him hug me and said I will always love you L.J. RIP.


By: Patricia Salamone

Washed upon the shore from far away,
or have you been resting here for many a day.
No matter where you come from you bring a story with you.

Did you come from deep below the sea,
or did you travel here from where I would like to be.
No matter where you come from you bring a story with you.

Did a small child pick you up and plop you here one day,
so another child can pick you up and take you off to play.
No matter where you come from you bring a story with you.

You feel so warm beneath my feet and smooth in my palm,
when I come here again you will probably be gone.
No matter where you come from you bring a story with you.

If I pick you up and take you home with me,
will you tell me your story or will your story be me.
No matter where you come from you bring a story with you



Christmas for me is a time for celebrating. It is the time of year when we gather together and rejoice the birth of Our Lord. It is also the time for St. Nick, Santa Clause, Father Christmas and the many other cultural names he is adorned with.

It is a time I reflect back on years gone by. My parents sitting on the couch watching all six of us excitingly opening our presents. It is the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree and watching the snow fall from my bedroom window.

It is going to Midnight Mass and singing with the congregation sharing the love and joy of the season.

It is following traditions that my parents instilled in us for many years. Sharing our home and food with family, friends and the less fortunate. It  is giving of ones self to others.

I have many Christmas’s behind me. My children, nieces and nephews and extended family are all grown up with families of their own now. They have added some of their own traditions, but the basic’s are still there. The faces may have changed, but the love of yesteryear remains strong.

My memory is long and my heart is filled with joy. I still look forward with excitement to the coming of Christmas day. I will have the privilege of watching my granddaughters open their gifts that will be waiting for them underneath the beautiful tree with the lights glowing. My grandsons will call, my sister and her family will call and we will all wish each other a Merry Christmas, even though the miles separate us.

My parents, Aunts and Uncles are all gone now, but my cousins and friends will send cards and good wishes to us. We all remember how it started for us. We all will remember our parents and those that are not with us any more. They all played an important part in our lives. The gift of love and joy is never forgotten and always past forward to the next generation. It humbles me to know that I am part of these traditions, and have contributed my little part in keeping them going.

It is not the gifts for me any more, but that same love and joy that will linger forever.

I wish all of my followers, readers, friends that I have made here, and our loved ones a very Merry Christmas and a Healthy, Happy New Year.



The winds out doors are blowing colder. The leaves are bursting with color. Winter will soon make it’s appearance.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I can feel the hustle and bustle in the air.

Time is slipping bye so quickly, and the little one’s are growing up just as fast.

Memories flood my mind of Thanksgiving’s past. I can see my mom in the kitchen baking pies, cookies and bread, she is preparing for the feast to come. She works tirelessly as we sample all of her offerings. The fresh turkey is in the refrigerator along with the artichokes that she will stuff and cook. Thanksgiving is just a day away and she is singing as she bakes and cooks. I am one of six children. Five girls and one boy. My sister’s and I will be given little jobs to do as the time ticks away. My oldest sister Arlene will help make the tray of lasagna. I will help peel potatoes along with my sister Diana. There will be corn to shuck and green beans to clean. Peas and carrots to prepare. Mom will make fried Cauliflower, one of our favorites. There will also be Brussel Sprouts and Broccoli and of course the Ante’ Paste will start the meal off. Yes, you are right my mom was Italian. However there will also be apple and pumpkin pie along with the Italian cheese cake and the cookies, pastries, fruit and roasted chestnuts, of course I shouldn’t forget the Cranberry Sauce and turkey gravy.

My mother would work well into the night and then rise before dawn to stuff the Turkey and Artichokes and get them started cooking. By the time we were all awake the Cauliflower was fried the Lasagna was sitting on the counter waiting it’s turn to be heated the vegetables were all in pots ready to be cooked. The baked goods were sitting atop the shelf of the stove and the Ante’ Paste was ready and looked delicious. My two older sister’s and I helped with getting our two younger sisters fed and dressed while our brother watched cartoons on the TV, and my dad? Well, he was reading the news paper at the kitchen table. After breakfast we would set the table for mom. The smell that wafted throughout our home was amazing. It was like drinking an aperitif, it made you hungry.

It was almost time for my dad to go pick up Tommy and Johnny from the Boy’s Home. They spent all the holiday’s with us for quite a few years. They also spent a few weeks with us in the summer. My parents wanted to adopt them, but they both had parents and could not be adopted. They wanted to be adopted by my parents too. We had such fun with them, they were good boys, and we all loved them. By the time we returned with the boys everything was ready. My sisters and I helped my mom put the food on the table. Our neighbor upstairs had arrived, he had never married and my parents always invited him for holiday meals. We all sat down and gave thanks for our blessings.

The feast had begun and it was wonderful. We started eating about noon time and did not finish until after dark. Friends, neighbors and relatives would stop by throughout the day and celebrate with us. Lord knows there was plenty of food for all.

As I sit here and type this I can almost here the record player and the laughing of the children. Visions of a time gone by that fill me with joy.

May all of you have a Happy Thanksgiving and fill you with wonderful memories. :o)