Currently the security profit programs is hesitant
Sista bad ways the masters degree premonition holder has eliquented us inside of the never growing fortress of people's passed economic struggles as mimes
Yet the obstructioni zing doth not permit a permit
Ye of vittles portion lacks the fortitude of good days in labor
Between Camarillo livibility lengths and Newbury Park rotations as the same
None may improvith stations whilst sista bad feelings goes into debt full idea administration worry
It was autumn
Before the round
Something shivered
Tools wasn't full
Vans change, tools out strange the work
All damseled
In respite
Shane apprehension grovel
Lost beside his print
Finding his father's name
April, too new city managers
Yorks and shires bereaved
I wasn't your only father's rent
The war counted on better rays
Rates add fits
In byes gondolas say
To write wrongs
Haven't worried sensibly
The round became my leaving board
A pond as his mother's springs
She sheltered little in life
Deathly burden to me
Manhattan Surrender my moons light
No gondolas are gliding under bridges,
it's a lagoon without classic songs;
pigeons are huddled and do not coo,
they're frightened by the murky blue!
Carlo sings some lovely Neapolitan songs,
tourists sing along with him and smile;
they all dream of sunny Southern skies,
of another distant city they admire and love!
Venice sinks in direful sadness lowering a spirit
that seeks adventure without a definite limit;
the tower bells have stopped ringing in dim light...
ghostly streets of midday miss the treading feet!
Gloomy lagoon on a foggy day, transform emotions;
don't surrender to dismal silence numbing the senses,
it's not bleak winter yet to stop all sounds and voices...
give us more delights as the sunset enthralls dreamers!
Sun-kissed stones, where shadows play,
Whisper secrets of a bygone day.
Grand Canal, in sapphire dressed,
Reflects the love within ones heart.
Gondolas glide, like whispered sighs,
Through water streets, beneath soft skies.
Bells peal songs, from ages old,
As stories in our laughter unfold.
Wisteria drapes, a fragrant veil,
As twilight paints the heavens pale.
We steal a kiss, beneath the moon,
In this Venetian, love-lit swoon.
Brick bridges sigh, with age-worn grace,
As cobblestones embrace our pace.
Hand in hand, we wander free,
Lost in this timeless tapestry.
And when we leave, with memories bright,
This magic place, will hold our light.
For in this haven, love's flame burns true,
Forever Venice, me and you.
With you, Emily,
I desire everything,
Some blackcurrant ice cream,
From gondolas to Venice,
Without you, Emily,
I don’t want anything,
With you, Emily,
I desire everything,
From Connecticut,
Of fine musical,
Without you, Emily,
I don’t want anything,
With you, Emily,
I love everything,
To jump in a balloon,
Flying over New York,
Without you, Emily,
I don’t want anything,
With you Beatrice,
I desire everything,
To suck on lullabies
To write poems,
Without you, Beatrice,
I don’t want anything,
With you, Emily
I desire everything,
To see the pyramids,
To steal the Mona Lisa,
Without you, ladies
I’m too sincere,
I can’t forgive people.
On a lovely clear day at a county fair,
the balloons were all ready to take to the air.
We watched as the burner flames flickered up high,
then passengers boarded and waved us goodbye.
The balloons all ascended and finally took flight.
In vibrant striped colors, a rainbow delight.
Propelled by wind currents they gracefully fly,
like sailboats at sea beneath the blue sky.
From wicker gondolas gazing down on the land,
their magical trip will no doubt be grand.
With the sun on their face and wind through their hair,
in a hot air balloon, how I wish I was there.
Dense darkness
under the tree
a deluge of your
smile where
appetite seated
in white flowers
Fragrance
reaches out
even here
my face and eyes
mesmerized
look in the mirror
my hands restive
in pursuit for
full moons well-set
on the smooth bed
with just the curves
in front of my eyes
enough to make the
well swell deep down
the sea
This seabed is
a weird stuff
immediately
springs up
sun flowers
and dandelions
seeking sunlight
if not allowed
doesn't hesitate to
plunder the sun
destroying the
churches
moons quiver
feet trembles
iris aflame
looks spread
magnetic waves
in the smile
the inebriated Nile
irresistible
darkness still
prevails there
under the tree
It's a gift to
live with such a
dark corner
which when needed
invites hundreds of
glowworms
Under the green
light
hundreds gondolas
sail on wide eyes
The tree
balancing the
branches and fruits
so alluringly
You are in
tremendous glee
no wrinkles anywhere
dimples so prominent
those jingling ankles
I will wait for gondolas
under the stars
tonight
October is a full box of thirty-six crayolas
Oranges, reds, gold…like sparkling colas,
Refreshing the soul like vibrant violas
Taking us higher in colorful gondolas,
All the true colors of summer gladiolas.
Rustle of the browns much like brawn
Damp with the dew of the early dawn,
Rich golden brews just freshly drawn
With smooth tawny of this spring's fawn,
Covering the dying green of my lawn.
Ushers in the holiday’s joyous season
Thanksgiving, Christmas for a good reason
(Merry, bright, joyous, and gleesome)
Ranges in color over the entire canon
Ochre, magenta, rust—all are in fashion
October, Oh, October! month chosen.
written October 4, 2021
The fluffy snow melts slowly,
its whiteness is stunning...
and turning into torrents of rain,
it sets grief on people's faces!
Passing sails are a delight to see,
but the anchored gondolas grieve,
they miss lovers who sang arias;
can sunset change the air of sobriety
and offer dreamers some real hope?
No, gladness is not found here!
Smiles are not influenced by emotions,
seeing the gleaming snow becoming slush
and flowing faster than rivers is even sadder;
all roofs drip, no cooing pigeons greet tourists:
Venice itself weeps surrounded by its splendor!
delectable dolphins
dancing here
near harbor
Instead of gondolas
white swans float
like the boats
Animals,puff
healthily, gallivant
without tumult
A little bird's chirp
outreaches our ears
piercingly
A single word
has made crucial changes
across the world
And some creatures
are happy about it
and a few are not
We, the humans
are just like other creatures
before nature, the creator
Regrettably,
we pay a lot
to fathom the bitter fact
Mysterious masks.
Motives suspected.
Whispered invitation.
Dance confirms intentions.
Low hanging Venetian fog
floats through narrow streets.
Distant music from St Mark's Square
drifts to rooms above.
Feelings unmasked.
Gondolas rock softly.
We moved into a nice, new place
Our bosom bear much joy so dear
A dream our hearts tell tales embrace
In name so far, and yet just near
They call the village bearable
Perhaps to make it memorable
For in my mind it rings a bell
Not far beyond a golden shell
Beloved bard his play was made
Where gondolas sail a river
And sellers night and day do trade
Unafraid of vile demeanor
We think that in this place we could
Save more of Shylock's interest
Not be in debt more than we should
That God may spare us from distress
Despite the merchant's due unworth;
Their romantic lutes sing nimbly
Rialtos ply foods of all sort
Nearby our holy assembly
Well stay a year or two perhaps
And swear to pay no sacrifice
As sorrows may just fill the gaps
For in Venice, life can be nice
So Much to See
By Franklin Price
12/11/2016
Elephants in Africa
The mountains of Nepal
The Kangaroos down under
I want to see it all
The moors of northern England
Castles from the past
A musical on Broadway
Old iron sides and its mast
Gondolas on the Grand Canal
The fjords of the north
The windmills of the Netherlands
Bridges that cross the firth-of-forth
To see and kiss the blarney stone
Stand at the wailing wall
Walk the Great Wall of China
I want to do it all
That's only the beginning
There's so much else to see
To visit what I've listed
Need to win the lottery
Eat:
She introduced her taste buds
to Italian spaghetti and red wine,
going to different restaurants
with the help of gondolas. She
has always wanted to taste
the delicacy.
Pray:
She found a way of feeding her soul,
after enjoying spaghetti. A spiritual teacher
introduced her to meditation, and
she began finding what she had lost
since childhood - happiness.
Love:
A man she met reminded her to love herself.
Pleasures and pains they shared tore off
the curtains that hid the true meaning
of love to her.
I have never been the same,
after watching, the abandoned
moon, rising gracefully,
and becoming secular. There
were no words, no speech;
but a biological war had
started between the shadows,
like gondolas in the air.
You unexpectedly turn blue.
Somebody had left the bloody footprints.
Satish Verma
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