The setting sun urged holiday makers
To roam around the Venice canals.
A thousand and one lamps helped
The gondoliers to find their way
As he sang a lovely love song
And pleased the lovers as they sat
On comfy cushions on the boat
Occasionally stealing a kind kiss.
Stare at the twinkling beautiful stars
Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes,
List and learn, ye dainty roses
We're called the gondoliers
And this is our song of love.
Venice knew what love meant,
Even when they traverse the bridge of sighs.
They wondered how many crossed
To their doom. But that was ages ago.
Now the bridge was decorated with lamps.
Oh, what a beautiful sight it was.
Solitary gulls lead all to Piazza San Marco.
The lovers looked in awe at the tourists.
They paid the gondolier handsomely
And descended on to the vast square.
They found a table and ordered
An espresso and a tasty pizza.
It was expensive but worth it.
I was thrilled to what the handsome gondolier wore
black and white striped shirt, straw hat,
red bow dripping off back of hat….
like Sophia Loren films from the sixties
Romantic gondolier loved his job, listening to giggling.
So many bunnies got engaged on his watch, on his ride.
These two had tails that could not stop wiggling.
Adorable the way they leaned into each other, side by side.
The bunnies forgot the gondolier was on the boat today.
They had not seen each other forever and another day.
Both in service to their country, assignments far away,
They got engaged in the typical love bunny way.
I was thrilled to what the handsome gondolier wore
black and white striped shirt, straw hat,
red bow dripping off back of hat….
like Sophia Loren films from the sixties
About Venetian charms I heard a lot -
City on the water, how cool, I thought.
I hoped I would explore that unique place
And chat up the gondolier, face-to-face.
The one, who holds the most amorous job
(No wonder, he could pass for a heartthrob),
Rowing for couples in love does impart
On his demeanour if not on his heart.
In middle age crisis I finally did!
Travelled to Venice, dreamt of as a kid -
Not as a girlfriend, or lover, or bride -
A wife who wished for a gondola ride.
My hubby, my old shoe, who tagged along,
Hummed sweetly to « Besame Mucho » song;
It felt we were on a perfect first date,
Visiting Venice is never too late.
Sweet memories, perhaps not quite discreet,
Enthroned forever on our toilet seat.
March 5, 2022
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Contest: My Dream Vacation
Gossamer winged gondolier airships
sail on feathered wax-clad wingtips
travelling blue transparent skies
probing boundaries transfixed on a prize
dashing darting greeting parting
flirting flurried partners charting
amplify dumbstruck daydreams with flair
animation takes wing to air
tails fly and tales spin
spotlights quarantine chagrin
vibrations brandish a two-edged sword
horizons are vistas explored
steel eyes of flint and mahogany
mirror no clouded cacophony
daydream disciples design
the silk purse
from rubble the blind decline
B310J
Gossamer winged gondolier airships
sail on feathered wax-clad wingtips
travelling blue transparent skies
probing boundaries transfixed on a prize
dashing darting greeting parting
flirting flurried partners charting
amplify daydreams with flair
animation takes wing to the air
tails fly and tales spin
spotlights quarantine chagrin
vibrations brandish a two-edged sword
horizons are vistas explored
steel eyes of flint and mahogany
mirror no clouded cacophony
daydream disciples design the silk purse
from rubble the blind decline
There was a young man named Dennis
Who thought he was an ace at tennis
He missed every shot
An ace he was not
He is now a Gondolier in Venice
When the lizard is aroused,
dark cranial caverns hide lust glowing eyes
Flickering tongue of temptation;
having peek curiosity, chastity can’t abide ...
Sin is gonna take you for a daredevil ride
Hormonal gland gondolier whispers,
pheromones that make you wanna do wrong
Naked desires got libido instincts,
lascivious attire
wanna disrobe your guarded attitude
Lizzie is gon make you do
what you know you ought not to
She-devil got a shine for the opposite gender
Risque rebel wanna darken the corridor,
put a bug in your ear ...
Make you dive nude into the lewd without fear
Libido instincts like to hunt
in bare skin cloth
Naked desire will urge a masochistic smut fool
to stick their hands
in the bosom fire
Lizard Boy is gon show-tell you,
what you ought not
ever dare listen-see to
He-devil got a taste for the opposite gender,
will swallow you body-and-soul
Put a bug up your nose ...
make you lose self-control
Drop your guard, and yield total surrender
Don’t let Lizzie do
the Jedi mind trick on you:
Telling you, deep down
you know you wanna lay next to
the forbidden taboo
I vividly recall last year
As winter was drawing near
Whilst driving along the pier
In a jolly mood, in good cheer
When all of a sudden it was clear
My wheel would no longer steer
And I was stuck in second gear
In a state of panic and fear
I knocked over a plastic deer
And toppled several crates of beer
Spinning around a carousel I was hitched to the rear
Of a rollercoaster by the tow bar of my wagoneer
I watched a look of disbelief appear
On the face of the fairground engineer
I must have seemed rather cavalier
A daring, sporting pioneer
Then on a double bend sharp and sheer
I was thrown into the stratosphere
The fairground music grew faint in my ear
As I hovered in the atmosphere
Bobbing in my flying gondolier
I realized I rather like it here….
What do I resolve for the coming new year?
time just to myself, have I made myself clear?
It's a matter of choice, well, and my career
and I mean to do it without any fear.
No more overtime work, I'll not volunteer.
No breaks, no gossip, is that too cavalier?
I'll leave work early, come in late, oh my dear,
by now you realize; I'm less than sincere.
I could give up moonlighting as a cashier,
focus on being a fine financier.
Or should I turn down gigs as a gondolier?
Time for me, a resolution too severe.
It's not gonna happen, I am happy here.
written December 30, 2016
Resolutions contest
Indianapolis welcomes you.
Navigate, find your place, sailing through
synthetic waterway just for fun.
Off’ring journeys with anecdotes,
carriages, kayaks and pedal boats
worthwhile way to enjoy snow or sun.
We'll park your vehicle, while you fete
with friends, fam'ly, or special date.
Hire out a gondolier; he can hunt
for local sites, you don't want to miss -
hideaways where you can reminisce,
use Indy’s canal at Riverfront.
written November 29, 2016
VENICE
In a gondola
with a handsome Italian
whispering in my ear
“Ti amo”.
He caresses my hair,
my soggy hair.
Drenched kisses.
Rain.
The gondolier
soaking wet.
Droplets of water
escape his hat’s rim
splashing.
He doesn’t sing
“O Sole Mio”.
The grayish buildings,
take a shower.
The soiled water drains
into narrow side walks
and further into the canal.
Under every dripping bridge
another kiss.
Water everywhere.
Romance drowns.
“Ti voliglio bene,”
my date whispers.
“I have to pee,”
I answer.
O Serenissima,*fabled city
guarding the bluest lagoon, remain
the Queen of the Adriatic Sea;
on a gondola I glide while
the gondolier sings to luminous stars.
Under bridges of moonlight,
mysteries increase by the dozen;
standing on the Bridge Of Sighs,
a fair-haired girl leans forward
blowing kisses to a gorgeous boy
who stops and smiles back tenderly.
On the topmast he awaits early daylight,
unfurled sails excite his spirit never
fraught. He looks back for a last time,
surroundings whet his curiosity;
behind him stand buildings of break
and stone that have endured time's fury.
The eastern sun comes up slowly,
he rubs his moist eyes and sighs;
his tall ship is ready to depart
for lands rich of exotic spices;
they will be traded for linen
textiles and beautiful glassware.
Months will pass, probably years,
a wrinkle or two will appear
on his sun-tanned forehead
beneath his fluttering red velvet hat;
he will think of Venice before sleep-
the sublime dream of a wealthy merchant.
* Serenissima: The most serene
SCARLET WAYS
giving suck
to a brood of
starving stars
voices flush out
the debris of your
soul
as you try to rip
the satin from my
mouth
which will not
swing the way
you know…
they are
resigned to
things you may
never probe
lonely again
I lay down in my
hair and say….
‘Gondolier’
as you try to
range your mind
North… but
my arrow is out
as I learn more
from missing
when I
miss
and we break off
the arms
of our statues
© Kim van Breda—23 December 2015
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