Long Giovanni Poems
Long Giovanni Poems. Below are the most popular long Giovanni by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Giovanni poems by poem length and keyword.
Five hundred years Giovanni Fontana had the notion
To rope gears to wheels and put it in motion.
One hundred years ago an idea came to Baron von Drais
Horses had been killed, ploughing required other ways.
Two wheels, no pedals, all made of wood
You had to push through the field, but still did some good.
A Scotsman added pedals, to the rear wheel
Maybe to celebrate, his friends danced a reel.
A Frenchman made the "boneshaker", which lived up to its name.
Ahead of its time, though reasons to complain.
It vibrated horrendously on the bumpy roads
Rattling teeth, rattling nerves, rattling loads.
Then England's "Penny Farthing" led the attack:
A five foot wheel in front, tiny wheel in back.
It was hard to climb on, and to keep a balance.
Every mount was a test of acrobatic talents
If you fell off without a helmet, it was hard on the brain.
Inventors went back to the drawing board again.
Radial spokes came in 1870, ball bearings 2 years later.
Progress is a goddess, love her or hate her.
Caliper brakes, multiple gears, shifters came fast.
Still too bumpy to have a blast.
Societies of bicyclists lobbied for roads paved and smooth.
Women started riding, old attitudes moved.
Across the pond Thomas Stevens rode a trans-U.S. ride.
With that kind of bike, a reason for pride.
Then pedals to gears got linked with a chain.
Derailleur was the next step, and a drive train.
The Italian Army used a foldable during World War I.
Between incoming bullets, they might have had fun.
Like the future Mountain bike, it handled rough terrain.
But for that, California cyclists tinkered, got the fame.
So that brings me to the day that I was cycling on a country road
composing verses, humming, reciting an ode.
Overtaken by two cyclists on electric bikes from Preston
Were batteries cheating? I glumly asked the question.
I concede it's liberation, more folks in fresh air
Their efforts assisted, but still mostly fair
Causality doesn't focus on me, of course
I'm just a convergence, a bike over a horse.
But all this history made it possible, on a rural lane
To move on my own power, through really nice terrain.
~ Papa ~
Dawn broke uneasy o'er damp, dreary lane
Fish markets open, the merchant a-bustle
Hawking his fresh catch to eke out a gain
Daily routine, one of stressed, ceaseless hustle
Perils of prepping each fish for display
Callouses, cuts and old scars that he'd hide
Leathery skin soaked in brine and dismay
Profits already had started to slide...
Meanwhile at home wife and children slept sound
Knowing that Papa was busy at work
Earning a living straight up, pound by pound
Back-breaking labor which he would not shirk
Papa Giovanni, a man oh-so-proud
His praises be sung in the fish market loud
August 15, 2020
Strand Completely New (#25) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
what are they there for?
what's it got to do with anything?
i am confident on this one
throw away your vertigo stick
they measure my son's height
to get into the opera
they don't measure me
but i tell them they should
as i am at the pinnacle of opera sensitivity
my friend is between baritone and alto
i'm between the car and the theatre
as i search for the venue on my phone
we are one metre away
between the peanuts and the legal drinking age
the performance begins
and i recognise the aria
i turn to my son and whisper,
"this is from that car advert."
there is no interval
and i feel tough
i shudder when i think that the earth takes a whole day to rotate
but we flim flam out of the opera house
there are still tickets for Don Giovanni
it apparently ends in hell
so swallowed up in the life to come, no longer inhabitants of this world
the following week we see Spongebob the Musical
how does the night
seduce me
in his ebony suspension
over and over
how could a child of ivory,
crave serenity
in total darkness
I watch my skin
marshal geese,
a shiver whispers
up my spine
I burnt the cello
rasping strings
till their dark dance,
encouraged a stars birth
and the sky glimmered life
I dismembered a violin
on platinum dunes of dust,
eclipsing the face of Venus
that never failed to turn,
now braided in glass
I am,
the beating drum
that serenades twilight,
the flute that trembles
birds to flight,
lifting the saffron veil,
between this day
the next
I live with this knowing,
I will never be free
cutis anserina move me,
over and under
she rises up
to whisper her secrets
dawn is coming,
as maypoles of ribbon-ed light
play the sunrise melody,
archangels gather
glancing over his
shoulder, teasing to
cavort with lovers
the world over
Don Giovanni
(night)
in his ebony robes
consumes me,
I am torn,
into darkness
as fibrils of light
a breath out of reach
It's a Langston Hughes kind of day
filled with dutiful hints of Robert frost
within the sudden humor and vague
eccentricity of Ernest hemmingway
the quiet freedom of Nikki Giovanni
with a cunning soul shaking enlightment
of Maya Angelo tinged with the noble
excitement of John keats as the clouds
move into this rapture an intriguing sheer
fondness of William butler Yeats while
the soft dem lights over the lake hits
my minds eye just so as I'm quite
taken by the sinking thoughts of
Virginia woolf beckoning my innermost
calm peeking through wooden slats
exposing the granduer of Gwendolyn Brooks
smile mastering greatness beneath broken
planks on the sunscreen porches even so
i dare change a thing about this glorious
day this Langston Hughes kind of day
We may not have the ability to find words
that match the intensity of being in love ~
the overwhelming happiness and emotion
that most of us long for, and dream of.
Sage poets of old wrote in their lines divine ~
Where love burns desire is love's pure flame.
Drink me with thine eyes, I'll pledge with mine,
a passion so unbridled, nothing will ever tame.
Love should forever be an adventurous journey
bridged with magical moments in exotic places
sharing intimate whispers of our desire and lust
and adoring looks of joy upon our sated faces.
Your look opens me like blooming petals of a rose
as tenderly you hold me beneath a moonlit sky.
It's then we meld, soul meets soul on lover's lips
and each caress leaves us breathless with a sigh.
You made my heart abandon its dwelling place
and nevermore will it be capable of returning.
It echoes in the beating chambers of yours,
a flame that you kindled and will keep burning.
I love you because the Earth turns round the sun
so if things on earth may be to heaven resembled,
then it must be a paradise on earth we've found.
We're bound in love, both joined and assembled.
Let not the gleam of moonlight, nor of sunlight dim
without words of love spoken in adoring synonym.
As Earth spins in harmony around the flaming sun,
we rise and fall together; two hearts joined as one.
August 21, 2022
The Meaning of Love Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
*In order, italicized lines are based on quotes from:
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Ben Johnson,
E.E. Cummings, Percy Bysshe Shelly, John Clare,
Nikki Giovanni, and Aphra Behn
I shall remember you when
night crawls under day
dressed up in sunshine and
colorful hues I shall remember
you in every single book I
read catering to the fundamental
findings craving thought like
Langston Hughes I’ll fondly
remember civil rights field
trips dancing through cattails
in the woods wandering
between dandelion patches
and rows of daisies peeking
through cedar slats nestled
upon a garden nook I dig the
magnificent magnitude of our
telepathy designs of hope
courage and joy I will always
remember your smile opening
the window letting fresh air
inside a dull dim room something
about William Butler Yeats
Yolande Giovanni something
about me black power rings
the subtle warmth of the
voice of dignity human need
to express one’s own abilities
communicate with all walks
of life we are who we are
I thank you for giving me
encouragement my humble
beginnings I shall see you
tomorrow in paradise sunshine
In loving memory of Nikki Giovanni
Saint Francis of Assisi, (name at birth was Giovanni)
had a way with mother nature that to all seemed quite uncanny.
His voice alone would bring the birds to settle at his feet
and listen to his sermons, in the forest, which was sweet.
Within the town of Gubbio, a Wolf preyed on the folk
until our hero cornered it and to it gently spoke
wherein it lay before him and then followed him to town
and the townsfolk fed him daily, thus the body count went down.
This kind Monk's caring nature is a lesson for us all
mankind must act responsibly, reaffirmed by Pope John Paul.
My tenet since my baptism has always been to care
for all of God's creation (except slugs, which I can't bear)
So, since Lord, you're all seeing and all hearing, which is good
I have a question for you, please now tell me, if you would,
Lord, answer this, strengthen my faith and cast away my doubt
Why I keep finding pigeon poo on the laundry I've hung out?
AS I WATCHED MY GRANDDAD LOOK AT MY GRAMMIE
HIS EYES LIT UP SO EVERYTIME HE'D SAY SEE
THE BEAUTY OF A WOMAN IS IN ALL THAT SHE DOES
I LOOKED AT HER WRINKLE HANDS MY EYES A FUZZ
AT WHAT HE SAW WHEN HESAW SO MUCH LOVE
SHE SMILED SO HEAVENLY AS HE'D SAY MY PRETTY
I LOOKED IN THE MIRROR AS I YOUNG AND WITTY
THEY DANCED AND GLANCED IN EACHOTHERS EYES
NEVER HAD THEY EVER LOOKED WITH DISPISE
HIS SMILE WAS SO BIG SHE FIXING HIS CUFFLINKS
AS HE SPINNED HER AROUND THE KITCHEN SINK
SHE LAUGHED AND SUNG SO AS HER HANDS CLAPPED
THEMAN WAS STUNTED BY THIS VISION OF AGE
MOST MEN CARRIED LADIES FROM A MAGAZINE PAGE
THIS COUPLE OF SUCH APPRECIATION SO MUCH JOY
SHE WAS LIKE A MAIDEN AND HE AS A YOUNG BOY
I ASKED COULD I CUT IN AND HAVE JUST A DANCE
HE SAID YOU'RE TO OLD AND SASSIE NOT A CHANCE
YOU SEE THE DAY WAS YOUNG AND SO WERE THEY
SO WE MOVED THE TABLES AND GOT OUT OF THE WAY
WRITTEN BY MRS. YOLANDA NICHOLSEN 11-17-2004
DURING A BLIZZARD SUFFERING FROM PTSD PENT UP
WITH TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY AWAITING TO TESTFY
IN A MURDER TRIAL IN TAMPA BAY STARRING AT MY
POP VEGAS MAGAZINE SO THIS WAS WRITTEN
FOR MY GRAND PARENTS ROOSEVELT AND NONA
THE HOUSE OF NOTES WHERE THE BLUES JAZZ CARBARET
WAS QUITE VIVID MY BEING A WRITER IN HIDING FROM
MY KILLERS MY STALKERS I NEEDED TO CONCEAL
MY IDENTITY FROM MY STALKERS WHILE THAT MURDER
TRIAL WAS GOING DIDN'T WANT MY JAMAICAN
KILLERS LOCATING ME BEFORE THE TRIAL BEGAN
SO I CREATED MARIETTA KEATING FROM MY POP
VEGAS MAGAZINE HE SAID I HAD MARIETTA'S EYES
THE SHOWGIRL ON THE COVER WEARING FEATHERS
ON THE COVER MARIETTA THE JEWISH LADY FROM
WW11 MY POP ALLOWED HER TO SEE HER HUSBAND
WHO WAS HELD CAPTURED BY THE GERMANS MARIETTA
KEATING BECAME A VERY IMPORTANT PART OF MY EXISTANCE
MY WAY OF GIVING A TRIBUTE TO MY IRISH ANCESTORS
FROM KEATON IRELAND
NO DIFFERENT THAN MARIO PUZO WRITING IN HIS
SUITER NYME CLERI OR YOLANDA CORNELIA GIOVANNI JR.
SUITER NYME NIKKI GIOVANNI COPING WITH SEVERAL
MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES INCLUDING A FEW ALTO EGOS
MARIETTA KEATING BECAME JUST THAT AN ALTO EGO
BECOMING ONE WITH YOUR CHARACTERS OVERTIME
THIS POEM IS A BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE TO MY GRANDPARENTS
WATCHING THEM DANCE LIKE THEY WERE FOREVER AT
THE HIGHSCHOOL DANCE AT 81 YEARS YOUNG
Giovanni didn't trust Michelangelo,
He'd heard that for guys he was hot.
But for minimum pay of a florin* a day,
He was willing to give it a shot.
As soon as they started the session,
Gio's senses said something was wrong.
Mickey couldn't decide how to pose him--
Wearing armor, a toga, a thong?
This went on for a while, and then with a smile
The master casually said to the dude,
"Please don't think me a jerk,
But to get this to work,
I must have you totally nude."
Avoiding eye contact, Gio peeked at his contract,
Then took a deep breath and replied,
"Si, but with the insistence that you keep your distance,
And another five florins besides."
And that's the way the story goes,
I've repeated it word for word,
How the most famous statue in all of the world,
The one that's called "David" occurred.
*Author's note: The florin, ducat, and lire were common currencies during Michelangelo's time. A florin, according to one source, was worth 2 crowns, approximately $26.00 today. I could not find the name of the model who posed for this sculpture nor how much he was paid. I doubt seriously if M. paid his models in florins, but I like the alliterations.