Best Paolo Poems
"A Silent Song"
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Blessed or cursed
Morning shave
Coffee please
Write a verse
Remembers last night’s dream
Grabs a napkin, spills his spleen
Shoves it in his pocket
Walks to work
Sits at his desk
Carries on as usual
Chats on with the new study,
he’s on a roll, softly flirts
Quietly, silently, it always works
Groundhog Day that’s the worst,
Where’s the breaker to dive under it all
Every now and then a Tempest is called for
A heavenly thunderous squall
Just to shake it up
Move through the strung out long day pall
Cover his mirror with her fog and all
All the while
He’s talking it up, little work day dramas
Meetings minute cutlass pen thrust
Business as usual, balls to bust
Still underneath it all he’s thinking the stories frame by frame
She whispers out of nowhere ethereal in his brain,
“The best story is yet to arrive, it’s only the middle of the day…
maybe some gold glitter, a Llama and a Toucan that sashays?”
Empath on his knees by midnight
He’s writing melancholic love songs
The words are tight, verses short
Not long, he’s thinking Turtle Doves and short skirts
That won’t work…
scrawls it out, writing’s gone with the wind,
The best words for the story don’t take too long
He listens to some music, thinks of her and sings a new song.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Dreams flourish dripping words
black on white her familiar screen
pounding faster like raging horses hooves and heart beats
bleed vibrant colors mystic legions of wars and lovers
a foreign sovereignty her mind and wily covers her pageantry
Her eyes the windows of her world
Wings beating flying free
Cages broken, horses hooves hearts racing
She follows him on another shore a dream by sea
Praying prophecies
Empath on her knees
Two very different minds
Free to be
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
Music/ Paolo Conte, "Sparring Partner"
https://youtu.be/tzjdY5rmpCA
He was known as Joltin John
With his baseball bat and his cap upon
He played the game with vigour and speed
Many a supporter said he was all that they need
Was born Guiseppe Paolo DiMaggio number eight child
Lived in America for his eighty four years 'til he died
Played as centre fielder during all his career
With the New York Yankees, who he held dear
Described by some as an uncaring brute
Responsible for Marilyn Monroe sliding into disrepute
With sedatives and such by dominating her so much
Controlling her career to stop her kissing men and such
He craved the limelight just for himself
Yet disliked Marilyn doing the same herself
Yet on the field he was no freak
Known for his 56 game hitting streak
Was MVP winner three times with determination
An all star in each of his thirteen seasons
You will find him in the baseball hall of fame
Look closely you will see his name
Was voted as sports living legend of all time
Was the baseball centennial year of nineteen sixty nine
His first wife was Dorothy Arnold an extra on the film
in which his minor role endured her to him
Married for just five years a son was born
Carries the name of Joseph John
In later years after the Arthur a Miller charade
DiMaggio rescued her from the tormented life she had
Would sit and read poetry on their latter years
Finding a Contentment that slated all fears
So this man had his bad points and good
Needed to reach his soul to be understood
Deep down inside he loved Marilyn for sure
This we will never find out, cos he is no more
He stands alone high in his baseball we surely know that
As a father and husband on his nose he fell flat
.
Remember when we see these idols it's all outer skin
We will never ever know what they are thinking within.
penned 20/4/2015
The Great Beauty
by Odin Roark
How short lived
This laughter made for releasing
Buried in the tragedian
Locked in the universal clown costume
We
You and me
We might watch Fellini’s balloons part
But the message of La Dolce Vita
Has faded into paparazzi history
Or perhaps
Never was
But
Taking up the Master’s baton
Paolo Sorrentino runs like a gazelle
His Great Beauty
Revisiting the question
A man lent to us
Provides a moment
Where one’s man for the ages
For our lifetime
A sufferer for both woman and man
Torn between the paternal instinct
And imagined freedom…
Becomes alone
Yet all-embracing
Such a price
We might say
Italy’s microcosmic decline
Man’s countenance on trial
His worth awaiting
A Christie's auction
Everything with its levy
Yet
What price the good life?
The good life seldom realized?
The kind lived
Then rebuked in
The Great Beauty?
Oh to seek
The unanswerable
Not the self-cocooning
Of “I know”
And the peace of inner-nothingness
Sublime’s secret
Like Sorrentino’s protagonist
We all live in bubbles
The question is about choice
Your bubble
Or
Mine?
Fate intervened on this day
I overslept... missed my train.
Find out about the rail crash -
Not a soul survived.
7,7,7,5 checked with how many syllables
Book Chosen Eleven Minutes by Paolo Coehlo
Contest Part 2 Fully booked
Sponsor Nette Onclaud
06~23~16
As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept,
So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
So played, so charmed, so conquered, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes;
And seeing it asleep, so fled away,
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day;
But to that second circle of sad Hell,
Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kissed, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.
Her train arrived right on time
a presence lost in the crowd
love’s interminable end
Eleven minutes
6/22/2016
-Eleven Minutes (Paolo Coehlo)
submitted to – Part 2, Fully Booked – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Nette Onclaud
mixed icing while oven showed
eleven more minutes left
school shooting—radio blared
wretched birthday cake
Written on 06/22/2016
Contest: Part 2 - Fully Booked
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Eleven Minutes (Paolo Coehlo)
Watching outside the glass window
Water filling-up our garden 's meadow
When the rain and wind begun to splash
I closed my eyes reminiscing our past.
Let's start reviewing before the seven calendars
Turn the pages back of the classic memoir
When you reach the first part, let's sit and start
Never leave, never skip let the pages show it's part.
Two characters in their sweet beginning
Their story in climax foretells heartbreaking
Ending - the witness of my lonely love story
The untold feelings remain in one's memory.
I'll let the storyteller reveals the secrets
For I don't have the courage to unseal what i feel
Hear the storyteller in this poem
Hear the heartbeat before I'll move on.
Eleven Minutes
Eleven minutes before
he wedded in the jammed church.
She barged in and proposed
to the gracious groom.
June 22, 2016
For Nette Onclaud
Contest- Part 2, Fully Booked
Novel Title- Eleven Minutes (Paolo Coehlo)
Your hand
As so inclined
Am I to show that love refined
Itself to friendship
Yet in that lowly
Friendly act
There still remains the simple fact
As lips touch skin
Respectful blessing
Is released
And worried brow becomes uncreased
For lips they linger..
Just a while..
To transfer more than just a smile
They wish to walk the extra mile
From wrist
To forearm
Where friends desist
And love walks slowly from the mist
And yet..
This happens
In the mind
Forgive the drift from 'love refined'..
As thought constrained
And locked away
In hopeful future such love remains
A warmth, cold daytime life detains
In daydreams
June Paolo
Joyful not jinx
Understanding not underestimating
Never give up never lay
Excellent you are suppose to be
Perfect you should claim
Arise you aim
Overwhelmed well applauded
Lots of praise
Oh! My good, child stand up and race!
Paolo Uccello nickname 'the bird'
an inventive painter you may not have heard
His wife said he loved perpective more than her
forehortenig did so naturally occur
Eleven minutes are left
Before you come with your brush
To paint the convulsing cloud
Ah just eleven
_______________________________________
June 23, 2016
Contest: Part 2--Fully Booked
Book title: Eleven Minutes (Paolo Coehlo)
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Milanese artist Lomazzo,the theorist*
was also an idealist
He claimed a shroud was the Lord's face
&thus a divine self-portrait thereon, was traced
*https://brill.com/view/title/36088?language=en(&chapter six of Giovan Paolo Lomazzo's Idea of the Temple of Painting (1590), )
C-onvert
A-nd
B-aptize
A-ll
N-ations
A-fter
T-hey
U-nderstand
A-lmighty's
N-ews
Topic: 90th Anniversary (February 17,2020)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Photo: Paolo Salonga