Best Villas Poems
Out at sea, serene and soothing,
on a sheet of lapis lazuli,
a graceful forward motion,
kissing the coast line,
sailing at high speed,
skimming over the salty waters,
the breeze caressing my face,
filling the taut sails with power.
A short distance away
sunlit vistas, rugged rocks,
and white washed villas.
Afar a dolphin jumps out of the water,
above gracious gulls glide
foraging for food, the tasty sardines,
turtles paddle close, a rare sight.
I veer to evade a close companion,
a masterly maneuver,
a sense of elation,
beauty, peace and joy.
Let me live here forever
or at least until summer lasts.
In 1925 the birth of the King of the Underwood came forth
and some 21 years later, he would grace us with his wisdom
as well as his politics, quotes, manuscripts, short stories and then deliver to us Ben Hur
and Lincoln. His name was Gore Vidal and today he still "is".
I picture him typing on his Underwood in his various villas (of which he had many)
writing his own manuscripts chiefly because he despised, like most writers, interruptions
unless it were as he said, " to have sex or a television appearance, both of which he lauded.
Today Vidal leaves us with, " We are permanently the United States of Amnesia. We learn nothing because we remember nothing."
The gaudy beauty of the villas with
new money blazons on the pediments,
the Moon over the garden, the sea breeze,
orchids in bloom - they're all the elements
of the confusing game to lure me to
a point of no return. The sweetest lies,
the jewelry of tears, big and true
enough to kiss them - that's what underlies
your game of love. Please, add a little more
of candlelights reflected in your eyes,
a nightingale, a bit of the Dalmore*,
a swarm of cupids in the starry skies,
et voilà! Before this little verse
comes to its final stanza, I will bring
at your sweet feet the whole universe
with a tamed star of the engagement ring.
You checkmate me… I hope, my fiancee,
will never know I played at giveaway.
* A brand of whiskey.
07.29.2019
Invitation To Play Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sheri Fresonke Harper
Her body my fingertips journey
As climbs the walls of villas shiny ivy,
Fondling mysterious green paths
Like those painted on sweet hyacinths,
Which colour her niveous neck and cheeks as do grasses on a bay.
Star Eyes
Something calming, something erotic,
Hot Sideritis tea in a gleaming teacup
That sings sweetly to me, of lands exotic.
Seeing all the other white villas in Greece,
Lying still on an angelic rug with you.
Listening to the great music of Vangelis!
Evermore,
Panagiota
*Sideritis is Greek mountain tea*
5/7/2019
7:45pm PST
The sunniest island,
with its Sea Stacks standing out
of the Tyrrhenian Sea,
shimmers as sailboats glide
in timeless serenity...
Paradise's duplication in man's heart.
Winter brings no drifts of snow,
only mild breezes from Sicily,
and the tourist is always on the go,
exploring, discovering and wondering
how this small island came to be...
when God stopped and began creating.
The sunniest island
with pastel houses perched on cliffs edges,
and ruins of castles and villas on rocky hills;
the loveliest island
in the Mediterranean garden...terraces
decked with common brooms and oleanders.
And as the mists vanish towards evening,
the quails are seen flying above, while the lemons'
perfume is hard to resist...the beautiful landscapes are revealed;
sail away in the bluest sea ever seen by the human's eye...
spend the starriest night gazing over its glistening waves:
a traveler's dream realized in the sunny island of Capri!
Autodidact
The small forest or the woods by the white road made of
crushed sea-shells was a place of enchantment squirrels
had no fear of solitary dreamers stumbling over oak roots.
I used to walk here when cows were milked, fed and
the mucking out was done and fresh straw strewn in their
stalls and the barn had chewing contented animals.
I could do so many things in the forest be an Indian or take
out of my pocket pornographic pictures the farmhand in
the village gave me and masturbate.
I was especially drawn to pictures of cunnilingus the women
seem to enjoy this form of sex more, and I was horrified when
told it was not a manly act, yet the pleasured faces stayed on
my mind. Years later I drove the forest was a private estate high
walls and posh villas and no squirrels, I laughed out loud they
will never know my secrets here where I dedicated trained for
a hearty sex life to come.
https://m.soundcloud.com/user-921599710/roman-reign
https://youtu.be/Z1hAGvzB8Nk
The prominent years, of which did last
Great heights of power, of centuries past
According to legend, thy Rome we build
Twin brothers afore, o’ Remus killed
O’ city of Rome, of which we name
A land of power, government, fame
A laurel wreath, for emperors made
Make way Augustine, we shall invade
Proud legions stand, march with thy sword
Set up camp, in one accord
Hilltops on high, settlement surround
Excavated objects found
We bind the law, of which was spoke
Of magistrates power, enforce, evoke
Writings carved, upon thy stone
Papyrus, bronze, of Latin alone
Villas remain, a courtyard near
Mosaic art, yet to revere
Myths and legends, they chose per se
God and goddess, a role to play
The Colosseum, the serious wars
O’ re-enact at theatre doors
Horses trotting, yet at a pace
The circus held, thy chariot race
Lend a penny, now let us bath
Thy mineral water, water wave
As strigils scrape, upon thy skin
With lavish oil, thy slave rub-in
A solid cause, bring to effect
Our empire built, we shall protect
Provinces, lands, we captured all
Stood to defend, afore thy fall
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
blub big blue blazing
bedazzling boisterous
brilliant beacon bright
pulsar pulsates
projecting prominently
pinpoint precisely
quixotic quasars
quintillion quarks quirkiness
quantum quintessence
wind whirl waves
watery whirlpool
wreckage washed-up
whimsical weasel
waterfall weathered willow
wilderness walk
zoo zebra zip
zealous zoologist
zeal zen
villas villages
vestige views valley vinca
vacation venues
Dreams dashing in daring dragoon
People prancing in purple picturesque paintings
Tourist touring transubstanciating terrain
The world is not just an oyster
The world is my oyster
Like a sunrise in aix
Or a sunset in Florence
It connects my inwardness to the vast labryinthe of world consciousness
World capitals and ancient villas spread out before my soul
I am the dreamer who dreamed himself into his dream and loved it so much it became true.
One starry night, a very long ago it
was death who thought to out-drink the poet.
Oh, let me pour you, death, a little more
of English ale in half with the Dalmore*.
Just look at her! As drunken as a Scouse,
death sings “Sweet Lucy”, dancing around the house.
I bet you’ve never seen her as she stands:
the drunken death is dancing on her hands!
If not in heaven, you will surely sup
in hell**. The blouse undone! The skirt caught up!
The drunken Death’s been dancing ever since
around Moscow, Paris, Port-au-Prince;
the rich men’s villas and the beggars’ shanties…
And, by the way, she doesn’t wear panties.
* Brand of Scotch whisky.
** William Shakespeare, King Henry VI, Second Part, ACT V, SCENE I.
28.05.2019
Pick A Tile, Vol 5 - Verse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
A Macabre Dance
The Class Divide
It was an odd situation the town was divided by a river.
The west side was the posh part. I lived there, that is
I worked as a cook at a tourist hotel and had a room in
the basement of the hotel. The east, across the river,
was where my girlfriend lived, a working class area
that only had gritted roads and houses were not painted.
The hotel director’s daughter loved me even though,
she had gone to a boarding school in Swiss, all I had
to do was to take elocution lessons and the world of
paved roads and villas would be mine. But my heart was
in uproar I loved the girl across the river she spoke my
language, salty and direct. So I crossed the Rubicon
an August night when the moon was full, but I had
dallied too long, she didn’t want a boyfriend who spoke posh.
ENVY IS A SEXY SEDUCTRESS
On days when the devil's workshop opens
On the streets of an idle mind,
Envy visits and knocks.
It lingers on your porch,
As you try to call it stranger
And busy yourself
With thoughts of the good Jesus
Or the days when you shone too.
A vapourized consolation
That clouds over your hope
And rains in intermittent despair.
Envy brushes aside her long hair.
Softly, it knocks and winks.
So you open and it glides in on heels
Flaunting irresistible humps
Like a glossy damsel in a mini skirt.
Caressing the back of your mind,
Whispering in soft tones,
Evil plots of destruction;
For peers that cruise in Porsches.
The ones that brandish their wedding rings
And threw bouquets which you always missed.
Bubbling in fine villas
Surrounded by giggling kids,
In new posts and instagrams.
A flagrant display of all you wish
All which you couldn’t have.
So you get all warmed up
And she’s all over you in a trice.
Oh this tenderness
The beauty of you amazes me
As I undress in the sun
Shining through the window
Curtains fluttering in the breeze
This Spanish villas part of me
Your eyes as slender
As an irresistible lover
Watching the silk fall from my hips
Taking me in your arms as this
Is bliss
Years we have waited
To meet once more
Thousands of hours
Hundreds of days
A million thoughts have kept you alive
In my head
Turning over all that was said
Tiny snippets of memory kept me in this eternity
Needing you back with me
Now the dream is reality
Undress in front of me
Lay upon my body
This warm familiarity
Heavenly
I have acted this out in my mind
A million times
Lightening flashes inside of me
Then hush
If only I knew before
Life after death was
As this
Two circular villas perched on the bony roots
No coat, no paint, only the scent of the bare skin
Restive camera instinctively released its telelens.
From nowhere, a tornado started wreaking havoc.
________________________
7 September 2025