Peter Velotti- Paperback Poetry (I Still Pretend You're Here) (July 2021)

Issue Nine- July 2021:

By Mercedes Barreto

Peter Velotti- Paperback Poetry (I Still Pretend You’re Here) (July 2021)

Peter Velotti introduces his latest poetry book, which includes poetry and many subjects, including romance, important headlines, sadness, healing, sports, family, politics, friendships, and much more.

What sparked the innovation and the determination when you decide that writing this book, this poetry, was something you might be interested in? Why so?

“My lady, Mary, said, “You have two of your poems published in a book of famous poets. One, which took first place. You are so gifted, you have to be heard! You write not only about romance but very important issues of what’s going on today.” I started writing my book on March 14. 2020. I completed ten poems. Then my life went into a very dark place.

Five days later, I got a call from my Lady Mary. “Oh my Peter, my babies dead!” she cried in a whisper, over and over, “My babies dead!” Her youngest son Jermaine Miller, 44 who I considered my stepson. died from Covid.

I knew the awful, deep, and hurting emotion she was feeling.

I also lost my only son Peter from Cancer, at the age of 15. No words in the dictionary can explain that horror that stays with you your entire life. No one should ever lose a child.

Two days later, Mary got covid. Her granddaughter Natasha Agard, took care of her at home for 7 days. She was rushed to the hospital the next night. We talked on the phone every day, it killed me that I wasn’t allowed to see her. The doctors told her she was grieving too much over her son, and that would make her worse. How the hell do you stop grieving when you lose a child? My Lady told me she needed me by her side, crying while I write these words. She said, “My Peter, I know I’m not going to make it, you have to be strong. I love you so very much, you are my best friend…” I pleaded with my love. I kept telling her, you have to hang on. Fight, Fight, Fight; Without you, there is no me! Her older son, Jr. Miller, who called his mom (who happened to be my girl) also every day pleaded the same thing, “You must fight, please! I beg of you, don’t give up!” Natasha and I would talk every day about Mary’s condition. Fifteen days from when Jermaine passed away, Natasha called me and started her conversation in a teary voice, saying, “Peter, I Love You!” That instant, I screamed, “MARY MARY!!”, knowing that my Lady, the love of my life, my best friend, was gone.

I ceased to exist, it was a matter of just taking long walks by myself late at night. Never picked up a pen.

My hero, Natasha, also got the virus. Thank God she survived, I love her so very much. A dear friend, Tanya Cooper, who heard my poetry at events, she hosted, told me the EXACT words my Lady Mary said, “You have to complete your book.” She added, “Your words can heal others from the loss of loved ones.”

She helped me in time, and in an effort by typing up every word that I wrote by a phone conversation. That takes a lot of time, and especially for someone like her who is so very busy. She truly is pure gold. As far as why I wrote poetry? Well, as a teenager, I wrote many songs. I sang ‘Doo Wop’ in East Harlem, with my brother Louie Velotti, and best friend John Distefano, and others. Many years later, a boyhood friend from East Harlem, Charlie Giardino, became a poet and did many gigs in the village, da BX, Harlem, and Westchester County. We joined a group with many wonderful talented poets, led by Helen Herbold, who started as a stage actress in the early 50’s.

She played opposite M. Brando, getting fabulous reviews. All the critics claimed she would be a big star someday, but the pressure got to her, so she had numerous breakdowns, and had tried to commit suicide many times. For over 30 years, she was on a variety of many habitual drugs. One day, on a cruise, she decided to stop taking all the many drugs they had her on and dumped them overboard. Amazingly, from that day onwards, she NEVER had a nervous breakdown or tried to commit suicide ever again. She became a college professor, teaching English, acting, and poetry. She taught us acting, proper diction. But, amazingly, when she read our poetry, she said, “OMG! You two have a gift.” She told Charlie, “His poems about his departed wife Maryanne, are so touching, and beautifully written.” My, how easy it came for me to do such a variety of poems. Rhyme, prose, acrostic. And, also, my presentation was very good. She added, “You two are a blessing for me, not to mention you guys are romantics, which the female public will adore.

Miss Herbold, gave many classes, two hours a night each night. She was very tough, and straightforward, and telling many they should give it up. I wrote two poems, one about Whitney Houston, and another about a tragic happening, where young children were murdered by a crazed gunman. She praised my creativity in such a manner, by saying, “I don’t just read you, I feel you.” When I saw the reaction, and the praise I was getting made my heart sing, and I realized that poetry, writing, and acting, was my forte.”

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

What are three words you could describe in detail that entails the wild journey you partook in, to tell your story in poetry and prose? In your own poetry book, of all things? Why should people read right away?

“Mercedes, it’s a short poem about my son Peter. It was going to be in my book, but a huge mistake was made, and Amazon.com rep, told me they were very sorry for the error. It’s a poem that is so dear to my heart and would satisfy me very much, now that it did not make my book.

Name of the poem: March Eight I Lost My Faith.

‘So many good people told me in time the awful pain will go away, I ask then why am I still grieving ’till this very day. That was their view, foolishly they had no clue. Losing you, my Peter, made the sun dark and the moon have no face, I was in such a very dark place. What could have been all our dreams shattered, you staying alive is all that mattered. Still all this deep pain, how is it possible I haven’t gone insane. We watched our boy die slow, selfishly we didn’t want you to let go. So often I ask why did my 15-year-old die. Your teacher Marie Brady said you were a kind intelligent boy, who brought so much caring a joy. Oh lord, I prayed so hard on this day, please don’t take my son away. March Eighth, is the day I lost my faith, Now many years later I sing a different song, forgive me God I was so very wrong.

-Written by Peter Velotti.’ “

If your poetry book becomes a best seller sometime in the future, what is the one thing, the mainline, you will say to your loyal readers, to ultimately keep them captivated and seeking more?

“My ideas are fresh, and my poetry has passion, facts, and understanding for ALL people who stand up for what is just. My audience has always praised my variety, and always say, I’m never boring, like so many speakers and poets are.”

What was the creative process like, if there was any sliver of creativity involved at all here, in the creation of the book? Who is to thank for any help along the way?

“The creative process is when you hear, see, or read something that moves you to get angry, cry, or even laugh out loud, and brings warmth to your heart. When this happens my creative juices flow, and I can’t put pen to paper down. It gives me a great feeling inside to be heard. So many to thank, starting with my dad, who taught me never to raise my hand to women, and fight racism and bigotry no matter the circumstance. And that I never should shame him.

My mom, for her caring heart, and that I woke up to her singing beautiful voice every morning, My brother Louie Velotti, and Johnny Dee Distefano who taught me how to sing, and also for their great sense of humor. My daughter Michele and son Peter, for making me the proudest dad in the entire world. Ruben Casado, George Czerniewsi, and Sonia Alva Veltti, for being by my son’s side while he was so very ill. Natasha Agard, and Jalen Cave Miller for being there when it counted. Also, Tanya Rochester Cooper, for all her time, and effort in this, and for having the incentive to get it done. Charlie Giardino, for being there with me on all the gigs we did all over the city. Johnny Figaro, for finding a cool place to do our poetry, and his big hit in a championship game on those fields of dreams. And of course, my lady Mary A. Miller, who made sure I got off my ass, and telling me I must be heard. Also for all her love and caring heart for me. She was pure gold.”

Do you believe this book will have an immediate impact in some way on your reading audience? Emotionally, for example? To relate with the message?

“As far as impact, it already has. A dear friend who lost her young daughter recently told me that I gave her an incentive because of when I lost my son Peter to cancer at the age of fifteen and for being able to go on and write this book. She now wants to write one also and asked me how to go about it. Not to mention, another female friend the same thing, and now that I did it, then so can she. I believe writing about your sorrow can be healthy, instead of holding it in. I’ve had other friends who said they were inspired by my poetry, through the stories that criticize the far left, and right.”

Where can we find your book, and why should we?

“Facebook, and Amazon.com. I pretend You’re Still Here. By Peter Velotti. Also simply on the Internet. Also during a book signing, and dinner at Ann & Tony’s Italian Restaurant 2407 Arthur Avenue, Bronx N.Y. 10458. I honestly believe, if you are a caring person, or you are someone who falls in love deeply, or if family means everything to you, or maybe you also fight against close-minded racists, then you will surely enjoy my deep passionate words and stories.”

Anything you might add here?

“I would also like to thank the O.L.A. Class of 86 for loving my Peter and never forgetting him. Also all my players on those fields of dreams in Pelham Bay LL. I must also include Louie Ferrara on this list. Not to mention, Louie has honorably donated $1000.00 to the St. Jude Foundation for Children, in honor of my son, Peter. I sure wish that ALL of my angels were here to celebrate my book with me. Lord knows how much I miss you all. Soar my Angels, Soar. I was blessed to have you ALL in my life.”