No Frost I

Born in Turlock, California in 1964, Richard Paolinelli began his writing career as a freelance writer in 1984 in Odessa, TX and gained his first fiction credit serving as the lead writer for the first two issues of the Elite Comics sci-fi/fantasy series, Seadragon.

Ok, so we can probably rule out me being the reincarnation of Robert Frost, who died 15 months before I was born.

There is an upcoming anthology, a two-parter, entitled Trumpocalypse and Trumptopia. I missed the deadline for the former but submitted a poem for the latter. It was declined because it would have been better for the first volume but it was too late for it to be included.

So I figured I would just drop this here and let you decide if my career as a poet should end at one.




By Richard Paolinelli




An intrepid pilgrim was I, venturing across this great land;

My destination a wondrous city, not far from a great blue sea.

I had last beheld the glorious sight with much younger eyes;

And now I could only guess that which my older sight would now see.


For so very long it had stood for values and principles most high;

Of the greatness of all and the immeasurable value of even the lowest one.

A brilliant beacon it was that shone clear and bright around the globe;

Calling out to all humanity no matter from where, promising not to shun.


Yet, as the years and decades passed by the luster began to fade;

Tarnished and dimmed by lesser men’s lust for power and their greed.

Until finally the shining city by the sea became cloaked in darkness;

A place that now openly celebrated an immoral man or woman’s misdeed.


But then came a man, who gilded himself with self-aggrandizement and fine gold;

Still he gave hope to all of the people, though exactly how is beyond my ken.

He spoke no words of specificity, offered no detail and set no promises in stone;