Best Cremona Poems
Come and walk with me on miracle mile
It will enhance all your senses
Bringing tingling sensations throughout your body
Making your your soul feel so good
The meaning of life will be understood
As we walk
All your worries will drift away
Feeling beautiful warmth
From the suns luminous rays
It’s a journey to happiness
Where we live on forever
Flowers are singing
Birds are dancing
Trees are playing
It’s amazing to see
Entertaining guaranteed
The flow of the aroma
Play sounds of a violin made from Cremona
Once we reach the end up ahead
We will come out brand new my friend!
Nonet meets sonnet
" The 1st women inspired art "
Sofonisba Italian artist known
inspired women to paint free
Internationally acclaimed
her use of light woven
with detail precise
Michelangelo
asking for
advice
clear
come to me with love and passion Michelangelo
for as the day falls to night bring to me your song;
thou come seeking say you to me but say what is in thine heart ?
In quiet fields of tall grass under olive trees, Cremona I think of thee
bearing all gifts of love's hidden secrets questioning my only virtue
Remember me as if I ,your breath, desires no other remember thine fire !
In great respect of the Art, nonet meets free verse ~
We dance under the walnut in smock
We curse the Lapwing in gold and white
The veil is placed upon its eyes
Our lake is hidden from his sight
Upon eight legs I draw the circle near
I wept with the twin death in Cremona
They were not veiled from his gaze
My blood was taken from me then
From Veglio I felt the rope
My death shall right this day
Upon a sword of fennel
Dark tombs safe in silence
Beautiful Pilgrim high on her steed
In weathered skin I walk my mountains
With fear and illness it is I they seek
Where is the child of my heart?
Maiden arms the sun turns brown
Mother's wisdom upon my birth
Born under caul and smile
This earth holds my blood and joy
From afar a young Oak taught me
faeryluna.com
Mostly they are good memories, up early in the morning
and heading to the foothill’s lakes and streams.
I’d fish near the car, while he'd go further off
coming back with a basket full of trout.
One time at the Kananaskis beaver ponds,
he came back early because he’d lost his
glasses when he’d disturbed a beehive.
When we went back to look for them,
the bees were still mad and we had to run
but never found his glasses. Another time,
I played peek-a-boo with a young otter and
neither of us fished. Then we’d head back,
often stopping at the Cremona Hotel, where
he’d buy get me a soda pop and chocolate bar
and I’d wait in the car, while he went inside
for a beer before driving home.
A few years later, I had my own waders and
the Zebco reel, I’d saved months for.
I would fish upstream, while he’d walk downstream
before turning upstream to fish, catching up with me
in a couple hours, always with more and bigger fish.
Once on the Fallen Timber, he met me on a deep pool where
I’d raised a big brook trout and we spent about ten minutes
teasing that fish to no avail and again I ended up
waiting outside the Cremona Hotel.
A year or two later, a glorious Indian Summer day
I headed upstream as usual and caught some good trout.
Around dusk, Dad hadn’t joined me, so I hiked up to
the road and walked back towards the car,
to meet him driving up the road and this time,
I had more and bigger fish. Nothing was said but
we didn’t stop that night at the Cremona Hotel.