Best Cinque Poems
Cinque Terre
by Edmund Siejka
We were in the Italian Rivera
A once in a lifetime trip
Hiking along the remote cliffs of Cinque Terre
Along narrow rock strewn paths
Barely wide enough
For goats.
We continued
Clinging to the cliffs of the coastline
Crossing over flimsy wooden bridges
Past vineyards
Olive groves
And lemon orchards.
Falls were common
I remembered
Simple rules of the trail
Look downward
Not up
Know where you are going
Make sure you can get back safely
Carefully we continued
Weighing every slippery rock
And stone
Before taking the next step.
When our guide stopped
I rested
In front of me
Splashed across
A deep blue horizon
Was the Mediterranean
Ancient as Homer’s Helen
And now a scene of tranquil emptiness.
We started again
Shifting our weight
Walking on our heels
Following the steep
Downward slope
Ending hours later
I was exhausted
Glad that it was over.
My sides ached
Every breath
A struggle
Forcing me to wonder
If I would ever cross this way again.
Waves crash down each day by day
As fishing boats dare make their way
The village square, by dawn, now quiet
as endless waves, with rocks, play riot
Then hustle and bustle, taunting streets
With men and boys from fishing fleets
Children scamper, scurrying, scream
While women weighing fish they clean
When midday sun offers no retreat
And cobblestones lie hushed with heat
Siesta silence creeps into town
Except where waves come crashing down
Cinque "Cino" Mingo ~ September 7, 1984 to May 8, 2007
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's been a whole year of laughter, memories and tears,
We know he's in Heaven, but wish he was here.
He was a great guy,
Now he watches over us from the sky.
His smile we can still see,
Wishing he was here with his friends and family.
And even in his death,
He's somehow still the best.
He communicates through Jesus,
And Heaven where he rests.
We all get sad when we remember that day,
But we know he's in better hands for everyday he prayed.
His spirit is present and so is his soul,
He left us his legacy so let's grasp and behold.
With prayer all is possible so we shall meet again,
For those who were inspired by Cinque's legacy, please pass this along,
Time flew past our eyes, but in our hearts it has been long.
He kept it real all the time,
Making music and staying on the grind.
He was more than a man,
He was a father-son-brother-friend,
Whose life succumbed to a violent end.
He spoke of the perils of life and the inevitable death,
He preached God's word up until he left.
He never once lost faith,
He was truly great and amongst his elders he showed much respect.
Despite what others thought he knew God had a plan,
His soul's still the blueprint for many a man.
He stood for what he believed in,
And he was definitely a true friend.
He was a soldier for the Lord,
And tried to get many to come on board.
He wasn't afraid to take a stand,
The true epitome of a man.
You are missed, but never forgotten.
Written by~
Yolanda Jackson & Kwanisha Young
Copyright © 2008 – Keeping It Real Poetry, All Rights Reserved.
We found a shady spot to sit
And gaze out at the sea
Or people watch on Monterosso,
Here in Italy.
We sailed to Cinque Terre,
Five small towns along the coast
Which hug the mountains charmingly
And hordes of tourists host.
We strolled the streets and alleyways,
Gelato for my lunch -
Both hazelnut and amarena
(Cherry is my hunch).
The sun was strong but soon we found
A copse of flow'ring trees
And settled in to soak the scene up,
Grateful for the breeze.
We met some locals and, as well,
New Zealanders on tour.
The sea, gelato, conversation -
Who could ask for more?
Dry and sun scorched cliffs.
The vast ocean lies below.
Sweat drips from my brow.
Marquise
Cinque linking
Amaranth medallion
Allows a diamond star to form
Immaculate teeth, glace cherry smirk
Swinging on invisible link
Sheriff starlight centre
Spikes squeezed between
Marquise
14th July 2022
Written for Contest; Radical Rictameter
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
copper burns across an endless sky
competing caws claim salt, surf and sand
sailing high above slowly sagging carcasses
long forgotten at the edge of the world
buckled rails swim over a shimmering shingle sea
the largest of its kind, hinting at some other time;
engines once chugged to billingsgate from this beach
herring bound for the cinque ports
and they say women dragged each boat -
pulled them down to that shore’s faithless embrace;
the muttered prayers of mothers and daughters
casting their men out on fortune’s dark waters
now nets, set for a tide that came and went, lay
mouldering among those collapsing clinkers
as if the fisherfolk just left one night, fled
granting the gulls sole control of that desolate dominion
their toil and trade, the legacy of our fathers’ fathers
still lays there on that beach; haunts that huge cove
rich history, like in so many places, fading away
rotting, rusting, ruined
To My Brother (Cinque E. Mingo) - You are truly missed (9/7/84 to 5/8/07)
Life is too short
This we know
Never knowing
When it’s our time to go
I woke up one morning (5/8/07)
Went on to work
Got a phone call
That could have given someone a stroke
My mother on the other line
Telling me my 22 year old brother was shot
This is just something
I would have never thought about
I left work
Got on the bus
Prayed to God
Didn’t make a fuss
Two stops before I got to my car
A few short blocks until I got in my ride
Another phone call from mom
“Cinque has died”
My face is stunned
My heart confused
Not understanding
Why this happened to you
I called the family
Called some friends
Informing them
My brother’s life had come to an end
Still frozen in time
My mind working overload
Just saw my brother
A few days ago
We were talking about GOD
Talking about Life
Talking about the future
Man, this can’t be right
Someone took his life
They had no regard
Could care less
About our stress
As he stood and talked with friends
Laughing and talking smack
The gunman
Shot my brother in the back
He fled the scene
Still at large
I pray everyday
Knowing he has to answer to GOD
Now we’ve lost our brother
Mom and Dad, their son
His five children, their father
His life gone at the hand of a gun
Someone pulled the trigger
Never did they figure
The ripple effect it would have
Senseless Crime, its so sad
I thank God
For the 22 years
He gave me with my brother
Although I still shed tears
We conversated a lot
We had a real connection
I now think of Q as my guardian angel
My protection
I love you Q
Just the same
We’ll see you again, but until then
We live with the stain of pain
Written By: Yolanda Jackson
My brother lived his life knowing Christ died for our sins and he lived his life by
giving love, which is why I know, he’s with the Father Above.
Working on Seattle and Italy's Cinque Terre' right
now. Just finished Seattle and am halfway through
the Cinque Terre' puzzle. Some of it's pieces are
rather faded though. You have to use picture of
puzzle on front as a guide.
I am also a poet. Would be interesting to take
one of my poems and make a puzzle out of it.
www.poetrysoup.com
I am in the top ten and have written over 8,500 poems.
Need puzzle of Serena Williams. Using portraits
as puzzles would also be a challenge. Declaration
Independence would also be a challenge as well
as Shuttle Artemis (15% more thrust) (produce
its own power and portraits of Astronauts and
Christa McAuliffe and others who were killed.
January 26, 1978. Mount St. Helens going off
and Kennedy being killed. Certain things stand
out in your mind.
was a race in space
America set the space
with style and grace
about read a book
cooling water from a brook
supports shook and shook
out in space was sent
same say it was worth a mint
around globe they went
soon take off and lift
straight as an arrow with no drift
God gave us a gift
has been way out far
critical and always are
like a shooting star
startup time was near
disappear from hemisphere
now no longer here
to pieces were blown
they will not leave us alone
now bare to the bone
In my Horn Haiku, you could shift
the first line with the last line. It
is in a 5-7-5 formulate with no
capital letters.
Have also sent this to some
other poets.
Putting words into verses
Verses into rhymes
Getting into your minds
Each and every time
The reality of the world
The news we all see
Knowing at any moment
It could be you or me
Listening to people talk
About all kinds of things
Hearing good stories and bad ones
And some funny ones in between
Being frustrated about situations
Wondering what’s going to happen next
Not understanding some outcomes
Some things leaving you perplexed
So with words I express
The stories I hear
Some from far away
Some very close and dear
Thoughts running in my head
Words scrambling in my mind
Searching for the next title
Looking for the next sign
Getting stumped
Writers block
Trying to keep it going
Trying to stay on top
Okay, okay I got it now
Life is a poem – as well as society
So I present to you my new book
Poetic Reality
Thank you Cinque (my brother) for forcing me to write this poem since it’s the title
of one of my books! Good Looking (love ya, miss ya)
*Image of Patty Hearst Post SLA Days by Bio.
Patty Hearst Time Capsule
PRE
kidnap
madcap
Miss press
distress
Stephen
live-in
boyfriend
loose end
next door
implore
both are
though marred
claimed they
made way
demand
expend
needy
agree
release
increase
more sum
unharmed
POST
coerced
Miss Hearst
photo
*Rousseau
woodness
goodness
raided
they laid
six ~love
**Cinque's club
plus him
crushed 'em
dual
you-all
Patty
make three
dub nine
club crime
bank raid
they'd paid
***Hearst weigh
must pay
servin'
seven
commute
come two
now writes
proud sights
~love: A score of zero in tennis or squash
*Rousseau: French philosopher and writer born in Switzerland; believed that the natural goodness of man was warped by society; ideas influenced the French Revolution
**Cinque: Pronounced 'SINK' in English, he was a part founder of the Symbionese Liberation Army, whereto, instigated the kidnapping and indoctrination of Patty Hearst.
***Patricia Campbell Hearst: After the bank hold-up that led to her imprisonment for her involvement, President Carter later commuted her sentence after she served 21 months of the seven years the court had decreed. Patty did marry her bodyguard, Bernard Shaw, who's now deceased. Over the years, she has written several books that had mostly affected her life.
2021 August 27
*1st Place*
FOOTLE FINALE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 28
Ginger and I first met at a horse auction,
she was described as a strawberry roan
a gentle nature with a three-legged gait,
creating a bumpy ride because of this trait.
I learned to ride with Ginger hours at a time,
we were in cinque with leg commands,
she was not a fast quarter horse,
what a relief as she plodded the course.
Many years and miles passed along,
I remember my first horse with pride,
she was Ginger with an even soul,
who taught me to ride on the whole.
Hello mate with the smile of a sweet peach, how may I help you angel.
She had a smile that would calm the savage breast of the beast before an attack.
Her teeth of pearly white and small dimples in her cute cheeks, how I long to kiss those soft cheeks.
A pretty smile that deserves a soft kiss upon her lips.
A natural nude color of her lips, they need no lip stain; however, the lip stain would add more to you in a form of a compliment.
Seeing your feet every morning before you got ready for work, white and of red polish.
How I longed to embrace your sweet form and draw in your pleasant scent.
Your hair is beautifully blond and medium length.
Your eyes are a pool of water in Cinque Terre.
They draw me into a smile.
Your voice calms my soul.
May I say to you, I love knowing you.
A troubadour in my heart.
A troubadour in your heart.
I hope to God you are ok my soul mate.
I hope you succeed.
I may be able to catch a glimpse of you on a Sunday at our mutual location.
Only then can I say thank you.
Only then can I hold your hand and embrace you as my sister in the eyes of the Messiah.
Only then can I greet you in my European way.
To you I would like to say, “in another time our hands were together in white and black.”
Praise to Allah for us meeting; maybe someday our paths will cross again.
Possibly you may become a part of my heart; however, only Yahweh will place you into a lower role than that of a wife.
I will still say I love you.
A dynasty of events has become our destiny, Miss D. Grazie mi bella ragazza di Bianca.
La mia angela di capelli di biondi.
Bachiami.
Red blood was shed as their land was taken
Red graves lie unmarked behind shuttered schools
Treaties flouted through Parliament's rules
With redskins confined to reservation
Red songs unsung and red tongues forgotten
Tear off the scab of self denial
Beneath the skin all our blood is red
Together mourn unforgotten dead
Canada's past is now on trial
Time to reright the Indian File.
______________________________________________________________
It's Canada Day here tomorrow but like many I find myself dwelling on the darker aspects of our history.
Form - Sonnetina Cinque http://thepoetsgarret.com/2010Challenge/form7.html