Best Appia Poems
SENSITIVITY
They’re all ignored by us, but they have feelings too :
A black gravestone in New York, down in the world,
Recalling its halcyon days as a part of
The impressive strata at Palisades Park.
The statue in the museum of Androcles and the Lion
Daydreaming - oh, for the good old days just lying sunbaked
On the beach surrounded by
Fossil shells and shrimp at Sables d’ Olonne,
With the feet of the famous resting gently on you.
And the marble fireplace in our living room -
He can still see in his mind’s eye
The Carrara quarries in bygone days…..
Why, some of his great-grand-daddies were
Hacked out of there and taken to Rome for the Via Appia.
Oh yes, stones have feelings too.
My carved ship-of-the-line from Nelson’s navy
With her masts and spars and decks and cabins
Lies awake at night thinking of her days
In the pine forests of Norway; and next to her
This old cedar jewellery box, with intoxicating
Smells of the coast at Prince Rupert
Where she lay on the beach for weeks
Before the saw mill changed her shape and sent her to me.
The new sapele door in our hall spends hours
Wishing for his buddies in the jungles of Uganda
Where the ants would tickle you
Half to death with their constant scurrying
Up and down your branches, building this or that.
Listen closely and he’ll boast that some
of his relatives ended their days as propellers
on German zeppelins, I kid you not.
Everyone has to feel special.
And what about those unassuming steel forks in my drawer
who can still tell stories
Of their days as iron ore in Finland,
And how their brother Ernie became
A bumper on the President’s limo (supposedly).
Or my wife’s copper bracelets with their pathetic tales
Of being shipped from Cyprus
and remelted into ingots in Bimingham.
I have overheard the wings of a 747
Recollecting in the hangars at night
How their existence as bauxite in Jamaica was so idyllic,
“Wit all dat reggae and smokin’ and god knows what, man.”
They too have their memories.
And, man, de smell in dat hangar!
Nero was a cruel, unfair emperor playing
the lyre as his disguise to conceal his consuming guilt;
and he caused destruction without feeling
an ounce of pity for those he governed with distrust.
Why did he want to destroy a city so mighty and glorious,
and replace it with a Golden Palace and magnificent gardens?
It seems inconceivable, but it was confirmed by many as the Great Fire
which ravaged Rome for six horrible days...who dared to call Nero a liar?
On the rooftop, with the widest view of Rome burning underneath,
Nero played the lyre as his disguise...singing,"The destruction of Troy" with derision.
And while looking so innocent and sad, he did nothing to control it;
wasn't his madness an evident sign of that contemplated act brought to completion?
Finding the scapegoats was too easy for him, to cover up his evil deed...
he blamed the Christians and had them thrown to the beasts of the Colosseum,
but many more were crucified along the Via Appia and was Nero appeased?
No, he still continued to play the lyre as his disguise with increased delirium.
in my lowliness you remembered me
after man had torn wrappings
of my soul leaving only
my flesh to devour
small things withered
beneath my earthly realm
oh how i'd beckoned your rapture
i wasn't as pure as sister agnes
nor sister margaret fruitful an yet
you'd entered me craving my soul
my heart filled with such desire
as i'd prayed for human compassion
pure affection was totally absent
from a broken woman bleeding
my flesh mascerated
shredded in the haste
of a car bomb equivelent
to one rib of man child an yet
you remembered me taking my soul
on a tour of ruinen auf des.via appia
while di vatican called my name
trumpets roared throughout
this granduer of openess
wholeness occured weeping flushed
from mine eyes dining in your diviness
the purity of the holy spirit
desiring me a flower blooming
clinging to thorns blood soaked
matted hair cradled my skull an yet
you entered my being creating
an eternal finding above
the santity and salvation
catered untimely to him
Having been born in legendary Italy,a country
as old as the stones of the Via Appia,
made me recall the fiery image of Attila...
the barbarian from Hungary,
who dared to defeat the mighty Romans:
by sacking their imperial city with clanking swords!
Attila might have become the new emperor,
if he hadn't abandoned that land he came to conquer,
but golloped away...vanishing into the unknown:
remorseful or giving up on becoming great;
and some agree that he was as untaimed as a lion...
with a chilvalry to melt any woman's heart!
Many great battles were fought on this soil,
fortified by faith,valor and blood:
an Italy immortalized by Vergil,
Dante,Davinci,Michelangelo and Verdi: a legacy continuing today;
and I, as her native son, like to lead the way...
to be among these and not vanish into nothing!
Where I walked as a teen, castles rose towards
crimson skies to capture my fancy and hold me in wonder,
until dusk came with the tinkling bells; and sweet mother
called me...her voice echoing,with affectionate loveliness,
amid the pine trees and a garden of blooming roses;
there, at the gate's entrance, she waited with flowers!
From a tiny spring, flowing from the snow-capped mountains,
I drank the purest water and saved some in my canteen...
while my companions threw rocks at each other and told jokes;
and none of us were older than seventeen!
O golden days,return to vivid memory...
when we are taken by reminiscence to renew vows of loyalty!
By a bright lamp,I'll write these memoirs 'till morning,
and whenever sleep comes...I'm ready to hop in bed,dreaming
to be in Amalfi or Positano along the rugged coast of emerald...
listening to the murmurs of the gleaming sea,so old,
overlooked by the immobile stars and hear a happy mandolin play
a serenade and to be taken into eternity!
I'm finally there, retracing each footstep on a stony path,
running through the streets of my fled youth;
wouldn't I be happy to stay and find a place to rest?
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
How is the valiant fallen
on the mountain?
Swifter than eagles
stronger than lions
the arm of Rome fallen
to cunning.
Give me back my legions
Quinctilius Varus!
Had you been diligent,
as you are with denarius,
strategically planning
the battle
you might have uncovered
the heart of the barbarian
and Rome would not have fallen
to Germania.
Tell it not at the gathering
Senatus
weep not at the forum
via Appia
lest the enemy glut!
First Place Winner: William Kekaula-A Historic Event- 9/24/20
9AD battle of Teutoburg. Ambushed by the Germans Varus lost three Roman Legions.