Best Napoli Poems
'Tis well-known that any pasta concoction will always me appease,
But I reckon my all-time favorite is plain old macaroni and cheese!
Ah! That simple but hardy fare sets my old taste buds a-twitchin',
When my spouse announces, "Honey, supper's ready!" from the kitchen!
As far as I know Mr. Kraft invented this delectable mixture,
That has over the years become a staple American fixture.
'Tis easy to prepare - on the box is the simple instruction,
And you won't clutter up the kitchen making a big production!
I've sampled exotic pasta dishes in romantic Roma and old Napoli,
Such as fusilli bucati, vermicelli, lasagne, fettuccine and ravioli.
They were scrumptious but if ever my palate you want to tease,
I'd prefer a hefty helping of plain old macaroni and cheese!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Linda's "Pasta Paradise" Contest - August 2010
I could be where the palm trees sway in a tropical breeze,
The pace is slow, the air is warm, and I can take my ease.
Drinking chilled coconut from the shell, a blue ocean view,
But, the only place I want to be, is right here with you.
I could be way up high, in a distant land, a Himalayan retreat,
Watching the sunset over Everest, wood fireplace, effusing heat.
Relaxing in the whirlpool, the steam rises, as I sip a hot brew.
But, the only place I want to be, is right here with you.
I could be enthralled as Parana journeys to it's end, at the falls,
200 rivers, cascading in unison, as I meditate struck in awe.
I could be contemplating, the transcendent beauty of Iguazu,
But, the only place I want to be, is right here with you.
I could be in Sorrento, bay of Napoli, not far from Capri,
watching cruise ships floating by, observing life so carefree.
From the marina, I marvel at the houses built into cliffs,
I daydream of what it could be like, to live like this.
But, of all the places I could go, and the things that I could do,
The only place I want to be...is right here with you.
John Derek Hamilton November 10, 2015
Napoli frozen
Oh, al lampone sweetness!
Three divine colors
A taste of Roman
Desert of the Godly sons
This box is for me...
for Poet Destroyer's Contest: "Neapolitan Ice Cream"
Last year I wrote of a Red Sox team
The fans did not exactly scream
They could not swing, field or hit
Last place was theirs, that was it.
But John Henry said ENOUGH of that
I will not let this team go splat
So he fired a guy named Bobby V
And From The Jays did Farrell bring.
He traded away the vaunted three guys
To Gonzo, Beckett and Crawford bye bye!
He said the losing days are through
Saved a quarter billion dollars too.
The off season came on us soon
He got Napoli, Dempster and Victorino too.
Though no one gave the team a chance
The season came and they took off fast.
They started winning many games
And found themselves in first place.
In the dust they left yanks, birds and jays.
Kept winning through the summer days.
Now the season is poised to end
The team is looking great again
From worst to first, oh what a season
Team spirit and drive is the reason.
The playoffs loom, the team looks ready
Hitting and pitching very steady.
Fresh off a recent Yankees sweep.
This team looks like it can't be beat
To Fenway do the playoffs come
They'll take on all comers, everyone
For when all the opponents have been beaten
We'll win the Series, Oh what a season!!
I have her nineteen fifties' Trifari
fine costume jewelry, which I hold dear,
since my sweet mom bequeathed it all to me;
when worn or touched, I feel her presence near.
The ritzy, sparkling rhinestone matching sets
showcased in satin-lined, faux leather case,
were treasured as high fashion; no regrets
when given as a gift of style and grace.
And too, are pearls embedded in bright gold
with settings of such intricate design.
I love to look at them, to fondle, hold
these precious pieces treasured now as mine.
I wear my mother's gems from time to time
and feel her basking in the lovely glow
that once adorned her beauty in its prime
and graced her loveliness in stylish show.
So I devotedly take tender care
of these Trifari gifts passed on to me;
her treasures shine with special love we share,
safeguarded through her cherished jewelry.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Old Jewelry or Just Old Things
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/06/2016
Since the1920s, Trifari has been one of the most respected and admired producers of costume jewelry in the United States. Founded in the1910s by Gustavo Trifari, the Italian-immigrant son of a Napoli goldsmith, the company has designed jewelry that’s been worn by countless high-profile clients, from Mamie Eisenhower to Madonna. Trifari costume jewelry is highly collectible today.
Roam the noisy and narrow streets of beautiful Napoli on any day,
and over a popular cafe hangs the comical Pulcinella's image;
many tourists aren't familiar with this guy dressed in white!
Why does he say," The best Baba al Rum is made here! "
The bartender puts on a huge smile when customers walk in.
Controversially, the infuriated French would claim, " We invented it! "
Then Pulcinella would reply with a delirious laughter,
" It was pretty good then, but not as tasty as it is today! "
*Baba al Rum is a Neapolitan dessert
No other city is more unique
than Napoli; around corners,
you'll find surprises that intrigue
eyes staring at monuments
that have some mystique powers!
And walking through the very narrow and noisy streets
of various sounds: you'll feel a drop of casual water
from the clotheslines above...ah, those scented sheets
waving while people eat treats and breathe the spring air
and listen to musicians improvising chords on their guitar!
Come to the city where the scent of oven-baked
pizza lures: live the simple life of the Neapolitans...
folks who sing classical songs that make everyone glad;
even Venice cannot compare to the enthusiasm and thrills
of the locals while flowers are offered by generous hands!
Jazz & Blues music is a delight to every soul seeking a ray of moonlight,
even Madonna and Beyonce wear the kind of jazzy clothes
that attract handsome guys on city streets and in fancy clubs...
hear those loud saxophones that make everyone dream at night!
Jazz & Blues music is very popular in sunny Napoli...
the beautiful city on the azure and peaceful bay;
listen to the song, " Naples is..." sung by Pino Daniele: it's the spirit
of a-once-suppressed people, now shrugging off prejudice and doubt!
And New Orleans, once devastated by Katrina still echoes
with the sounds of Jazz & Blues despite it's many visible woes;
the twin cities embrace the same music to uplift them in very tough days...
while hoping for a better and brighter tomorrow that will offer many joys!
Capri
roofless cubes, spidery with wire,
cakes of azure and enzian;
above at the Villa San Michele
Rilke smiles down at the broken beaches,
at coves of defiant waves, compacted sea
Pompeii
a chessboard of honest stones
open to a sky of hushed shouts;
we huddle in a boned frame
of another life, a stopped day
Napoli
warm and secret, olive-eyed
an infinite beauty makes a new face
as we gaze ape-like from our bus;
an act of moment
[An offering for fans of Dean Martin... or not. More or
less to the tune of ‘That’s Amore’ (not the ‘In Napoli’ bit),
this is the cleaned up version of an unprintable original.
In UK ‘Old Fellow’ is a euphemism for... let’s just call it
man’s best friend.]
***
Big long fish in the sea
Eight foot long and wriggly
That's a Moray
Well I pooped in my trunks
It was biting off chunks
That's a Moray
First it bit my thing
My ding a ling a ling
People on the scene
Heard me bellow
This big fish just bit me
And it swam away with my old fellow
Then I heard someone squeal
That big fish was an eel
That's a Moray
Then they bought me a skirt
To conceal where I hurt
Fair enough
Well, I gave it a whirl
Living life as a girl
But no more, eh?
’Cause I went down the pub
For a flirt and some grub
That’s amore
See , this bloke wandered by
With that look in his eye
That’s amore
He said hey babe what’s yours
Slipped his hand down my drawers
That’s amore?
But he felt quite a chump
As he fondled my stump
End of soirée
Had a tear in my eye
At his hasty bye bye
That’s amore
I learned electronics
Made some bionic bits
That’s amore
Ladies squeal with delight
When I ‘stay up’ all night
They’re in love
And they all ask of me
Is that whole thing for me
That’s...
A Moray
But I’ll write nothing more
As I think this has gone...
...Far enough.
well, it's morning again
and I feeling obcessive
compulsively, constantly running -
impulsive, progressive...
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
being with You just makes me smile,
like getting an ice cream,
or making snow angels...
the simplistic beauty beheld in a child,
Spirit Kinshala, soul I can taste
moving as ants to their hill
or Bonds to home base
just an innate esp
that you feel when yr free
and you give that to me
so for this, I thank thee...
and I hate saying sorry
(but I kind of AM)
cause this all wasn't
supposed to be part of the plan,
we were just 'sposed to meet
have fun, and then part
as friends, as two people
that dance in the dark,
but I'm sorry to say
it didn't happen that way
cause You've drained my red heart
and then sewed it apart
with thread true of You
My sweet Kinshala Blue,
for now you must depart
leaving me alone with my art...
so I'll paint what I feel
and at night I shall kneel
and pray for a solution
(like getting my truck back)
so I can go to Napoli
and help find you a shack
where you can take of yr shoes
and yr hat
make music at ease
while petting yr cat
and smile at Me
internally
the way it could, would, and should be....
Revolution
I heard the sobs it came from under a bridge of a stream, and
found a rejected prince with torn uniform crying, the country
he had given duty to, opening supermarkets, had gone republic
and overnight he had to leave the castle, his toys, and his polo
horses and charmed life. I commiserated with him asked what
had happened to his horses. “They were made into salami and
sold cheaply to the poor people of Napoli.”
This made me angry and almost a monarchist, it is not right to
take revenge for years of inequality on horses. I took the prince
home, gave him a shower, he wanted me to scrub his back but
I said as he was a commoner now he had to do that himself.
It took a bit of time to teach him how to be working class saying
“****” and “bloody” every so often... Being the new elite, there
always has to be one, I got him a job as a bus driver...and he is
still driving the bus between Liverpool and Garston, calls it a royal
duty and who am I to argue? I live in his castle.
"A Napoli anche l'asse mediano ha la sua poesia." - Rosano Verde
I have composed a poem based on the above Italian sentence.
IN NAPLES
In Naples, even the median axis has his poem,
and the road goes in a straight line up the centre...
The sky awaits to meet it in the distance.
In Naples, you will search the median axis,
and when you have found it, you will laugh out loud
for the sky will greet the road.
For too long they have been separated
but the sky has always been attracted -
fascinated by the axis on your own sweet road.
----------------------------------------------------------
8/22/2015
KING OF NAPOLI (PT. 2)
Bright Altar of the bloodless sacrifice,
sweatless stains drenched your jerseys.
Which armoury delivers this season's Scudetto?
It's the masked number 9 that emerges our hero!
And summoned the spirit of deep emotion,
from the unknown graves of dwindled passion,
where victory was long gone and finally over.
The aura of late king Diego Armando Maradona
Saturate the entire stadia like the scent of confetti.
Night falls on the celebration in the great city,¹°
Shadowy clouds darkened o’er the helm of Naples,
Wind swaying the trees, branches & vegetables...
The firmament yawned; heaven stript bare,
the spirit of Maradona hovers & fills the air.
The Mountains heard the voicing earthquakes,
travelling through those top towers.
Thunderous voices at the metropolitan
rattled roofless halls of fame of our foreign sultan,
where the portraits, statues & banners of Deigo
Stood high & mighty like the great Armando.²°
The whole of Italy & Earth woke out of their slumber;
A blaze of light between two heavens sets asunder;
The first hero of Napolitans bears down
on the new king Osimhen, & wears him the crown.
All hail the King of Napoli.????²
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? May 2023.
HAIL THE KING OF NAPOLI (1)
The Chronicles of the old king, Diego.
An epitaph of his statue reads: "When I go,
I go away from you then this badge
loses honour and beats dead with no urge"
Like a slackened drum that fades afar5.
I call out for you against my jutted star
And shout into the wind ridges like I'm barking,
Calling out for a successor regardless of skin,
Man mountain like Osimhen who's very keen,
African-breed & blooded but the spirit of Maradona.¹°
He's not one to score PKs doing a rabona.
This club waited for him who would hold the sway
Then the masked mafia mustered his way
From Lagos Nigeria to French club Lille Metropolis,
shatterin' Weah's goal record like voices in the Holies,¹5
Surmounted surgery & the pain of facial disfigure,
returned from the sidelines with a happy demeanour,
and became the face of Napoli, a phenomenon.
Rose from a whole season among giants & gladiators,
but endure weights of expectations among spectators.²°
The city's folklore is rewritten in the stars.
This masked man, you won't smite his armour
while scoring goals, giving assists and more.
V.O 9 evinces predatory under the floodlights thrill
and sees blood in goal when'ver it's time for the kill.²5
Heaven gave us this day but Osimhen delivers it
And set the Diego Armando Maradona stadium alight,
denotating a blinding brand of lightning!
All like a day's job from he whose pace is frightening.
Naples, this city of thy worship, jumps in hysteria,³°
Set ever free! Free from the drought of Serie A.
Joy engulfs the air, devouring the hearts of men,
which pantest for lost glory returned by Osimhen,
Naked, beneath the lidless eye of the heavens!
Naples, Elysian City of Ocean Blue & Ravens,³5
calm enchantest amid mutinous air & sea!
Parade the heroes from Campania to the Tyrrhenian Sea!
Oh! What a Metropolis of ruined Paradise.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? May 2023.