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Today's Featured Poet is

Rich Tassinari


Birth Place
Massachusetts

Age Category
61-70

Birth month and day
May 4

Education
College Graduate

Occupation
Retired

Hobbies
reading, writing, wordworking, painting

Marital status
Married

Children/grandchildren
4 daughters/ 8grandchildren

Published works
Nothing, but compiling poems now for, perhaps, a book someday.

Volunteer work
Not at the moment, but much in the past.

Professional or Philanthropic associations (including religious affiliation)
Raised Roman Catholic, but basically a Christian not affiliated with any denomination. Currently hold church service regularly at home with my wife and any other family members (usually two visiting grandkids) who are present on Sunday.

Poetry writing experience
Started at about age 15 as a school assignment. Stopped at about age 20 and picked up writing again at age 56.

State or country in which the poet resides
CA

Testimony of saving faith for Christians only
I attended parochial elementary school, was an altar boy for 7 years, spent a lot of time at, in, and around the church. I can't pick out one day when I asked Jesus to enter into my heart, but there have been many days of asking Him in, putting Him out, and letting Him back in again. Fortunately, when one opens the door for Him, He is there and willing. When He enters, love and peace enter with Him. So, as I mature, I cling to Him more. My bit of testimony is to express that part of Him in me through poetry and prayer for those in need.

About the Poet
Husband, father, grandfather, and each title is my joy. As a youth, poetry was a means to express the inexpressable. I was attracted to (and still am) the beauty and brevity of verse. All flows out from God, and like a proper prayer, can flow back.

See what this poet has written


Chime Of The Day

November 16, 2025

From her Window
Viewed Last 24 Hours: 19 times

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Across the narrow room
the pane high above the bed
tall-framed lens upon the world
her world, then and now

a husband's hand first led her here
caressed her through the nights
waved daily from the curb down below

By that same willow, as he left for work
twilights here she nursed babies' croup
coached toddlers' sleep with song
once shivered by this familiar view

As widowhood rapped below
by this same bed lamp she'd often watch
frost patterns as she'd wait
her adolescent son gone out too long

On ventures tearing at her heart
here her youngest daughter feigned bride
dancing white curtain tiers round her face

Breaths of years later the real wedding staged
her actual departure

The frail hand traces calendar squares
on the wall of her hollow room

She listens for no-one's steps to advance
there are none to leave, none to return

Only her own

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