The existence of the Greek profile,
the gods of Olympus...
The Roman Nose Sculpture
the handsome Etruscan athletes...
the wonder of the print
Nordic of Thor,
the typical brunette
of the Latin Lover...
The black gods, black beauty,
Asian exoticism,
the Arab mystery;
All peoples are magnificent
all types... but the most harmonic shape
it is among and among all peoples...
The most harmonic shape,
the admirable people... Woman...!
astonishing people, Woman...!
Categories:
etruscan, allegory, allusion, appreciation, art,
Form: Free verse
She cooks fish and rice,
her unfolded hips
pushing all into place.
Oils, and aromas,
train buds to lap at shadows.
The marl of her hands
turns bowls of smoke
into lemon and butter.
I won’t get to eat the spiced Mackerel,
but I imagine my scaly head laid
in a tabby cat’s saucer.
I dream of small-boned piquant desires,
the lick of her fingers,
the coral curl of her tongue
as If she were a cat and I a fish in a dish.
She wears dark clothes, a peasant garb,
black skirts below her knees,
a lace shawl when she goes to church.
She is Greek, a Turk
an Albanian. She is an Etruscan vineyard
for orphans. A mother to a lover.
Her gourd is full and spilling.
In her hair black horses leap,
a few stout gray mares
amidst the mane.
Tides turn and swirl
through turtle-shell combs.
She’s not a disciple of pretty.
She is earthenware to hold my hungers.
These words are just terracotta shards.
What she is, is an alcove for halvah.
Apart from Holy Days,
she works at a grocery store.
Where she bakes grape-filled suns,
and moon-glazed pastries
for those in need of the olive yield
of her light.
Categories:
etruscan, poems, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
Dug out of an Etruscan crypt,
the sorcerer's eerie skull
will be used for an evil act...
amid lightening, darkness and gull.
The lad with frightened eyes screams
while they chant rhymes of a dead witch,
" Don't let me die...loose the ropes, please! "
she pleads to the tall High Priest Mitch.
Wandering wolves smell fresh blood,
the first drop stains her white gown...
they grunt not afraid of the man in hood,
or of the gruesomeness of his frown.
He lifts the eerie skull without any sheen...
the wolves attack that sorcerer so mean!
Saga
Categories:
etruscan, places, social,
Form: Sonnet
Etruscan rose
a purpled blue,
I write a melody for you
Etruscan rose
magenta shade,
for you this pollonaise
is played.
Note like petals
spiral down
through Etruria
and "round
ancient ruins
of desire
falling on your
funeral pyre.
where your fragile form
in flames
departed .....
just your heart remains
Amphora ,
classic in design
Etruscan roses there
entwine. to guard
your heart
forevermore,
as symphonies
and petals
soar.
Categories:
etruscan, death, lost love, time,
Form: Couplet
Sautéed scallops on the skirts of Italy
Debutantes of a chardonnay shimmy
Mediterranean terraces of broached stars
Gucci wallets moonlighting baroque hearts
Manolo Blahnik legs lavishly luring
High heel sculptures of effusive Etruscan art
Olive ties stirring perfumed Sicilian thighs
Inhaling fragrant glasses of jasmine jet eyes
Rosy secrets saturating burning blotted lips
Fiery fertile plumes of Pompeii's fresco kiss
Vesuvian silence preening suave sable hair
Folded napkins of toasted Venetian affairs
Categories:
etruscan, love, passion, places,
Form: Free verse
Photographs, fragile as Dead Sea scrolls,
hold two of you, dead before my birth,
stiff in sienna spring, serious as scabbards
on south Missouri farm.
Rosie: wind-hard in rock-scrubbed black dress,
stooped with thirteen children, steel-haloed glasses
glinting plum sun, aureole sun-gravured face,
dried apple forehead skewered with string.
Abraham: family myth namesake squinting beyond
musk ox moustache, blanched brow, measuring
Etruscan manhood, those pale stone radish seeds
sown years ago, the calloused hard-silk lover's hands
swinging slowly at your sides, butchered hogs
sashaying trees.
Categories:
etruscan, death, family, life,
Form: Free verse