Long Italy Poems
Long Italy Poems. Below are the most popular long Italy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Italy poems by poem length and keyword.
What kind of Madonna are you?
Your silk is flesh,
your green slippers
are lily pads for the daughter of Venus.
What if I laid my head upon your lap
would you mother me,
or caress dormant passions into flame?
In Spain and Italy
they march you through
the narrow, cobbled streets.
bound to a pole and banners
as if you were a totem,
a painted and caged
icon
of their masculine salvation.
Will you save me my gypsy Madonna,
or will I rescue you?
I will take you upon a starry night,
to ride within a rolling caravan.
Heaven will wait for us,
as we, ravaged by body-prayers,
dawdle upon the way.
Shall we then be riddled through
by the threads of each other's needs,
this our hungering impulse
to be both the seed and the flowering?
The Italian language
I would like to immigrate from Portugal to Italy
After ten o'clock at night, I switch on the TV
and watch an Italian soap opera
I don't understand a word of what the actors
say, but it is the way they say it, no hard
Consonant, no one is asked to stand to attention
For a comma, a full stop is a mere bagatelle
Not understanding what actors say is not
important, it is about facial expression and screams
So many pleasant surprises, last night's program
about a man who looked scruffy, he looked like
an evil character, but as it turned out, he is a police
inspector and arrested the man who looked like
matinee idol for the murder of the girl
All this happened in a modulated language where
crass consonants, dare not enter
A port in Italy
Livorno was a dark town with sparse light that appeared Russian
at an open place with many trucks and many women milling about
I paid one she bent over the bonnet of a car
did this to relieve the boredom and the onset of depression.
When the deed was done, I walked to a restaurant and bought
a bottle of wine, it was surprisingly good, probably Russian
I do not care for Italian wine.
The woman followed me, wanted wine also, said I was gentle.
After two bottles, she said she loved me.
When she went into the loo. I jumped into a taxi and drove
back to the ship feeling annoyed.
What has love got to do with this?
CORONALITY (1)
Polyneuropathy of a poisonous dark child,
Weapon of mass destruction,
Born to the family called Earth,
Name Corona, last name Virus,
Nickname Covid, aged nineteen (19),
Nationality China, who premeditatedly planned
The glint of bodies: naked, suited or adorned,
Down by the old soul (earth).
International terrorism at it's best,
Who is going to be the jury
To hear and decide this infliction of life's injury.
Death fashionably attired with a face new
And name, Corona, reminiscent of something I knew,
Now the ghost of life that begins
Can freely travel from Italy to America,
From United kingdom to Faroe island
Even without aviation and documents
To waver in arms of loved ones or pen pals.
What's going on with our beloved Earth?
Carcasses; I smell a rat,
Chinese government wears the aroma
And Wuhan Institute of Virology,
I see Shi Zengli's lab oozes 'the dead rat'
And Major General Chen Wei's hands stained
With tactics, strategies and blood
Like a small red circle on a white flag.
Welcome to the apocalypse, age of Ragnarok.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2020
Forthy innocent people
were heinously shut down,
the surly morning was about to rain,
then sunrise came and mothers wailed;
I also wept for their death as that tolling bell...
the flag they loved was lowered
halfstaff, a crowd gathered and sang!
Soldiers loyal to their cruel king
pulled the triggers obeying him, the accused
weren't allowed to show a cause for their insurgence,
but they choose death over submission and obedience;
who's thirsty for blood is condemned
by God, His children are equal and sacred,
and their loss is remembered on a morose morning
that saw their warm blood gushing
from their wounds, so there they lay with open eyes
and stretched hands not hearing their beloved' cries!
Yesterday they were as free as the soaring eagles,
their land with its forests and lush meadows
made them smile and increase their pride of inheritance;
did they suspect an invasion from the Northern king* who was
envious and thirsty for dominion and gold...
stealing their happiness and livelihood?
They gallantly fought and refused to be silenced,
and they vowed to defend what was theirs without hesitance!
*King Vittorio Emanuele II of Savoy connected the South (the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies ) to the Kingdom of Italy.
I was walking down to the taco joint
wearing my new conical Chinese hat,
I looked how it looked, it gave me some flair,
but some beta-hipster took issue with that.
He stalked up and said,”It’s people like you
who are holding us back as a nation!
Do you not realize how offensive that ?
It’s cultural appropriation!”
I rolled my yes and weight if I wanted
to take the time now to deal with this crap,
betting the fool wouldn’t have raised a fuss
if I’d worn my Oktoberfest cap.
But when I saw the man’s smug scowl
there was no question what I would do,
said,”Before we talk about my hat,
we should first see the problems in you.
“I see that you’re wearing denim jeans,
and denim first came from fair Italy,
so unless you are an Italian man
you better drop them right here in the street.
“And there upon you shirt, a name and a number,
don’t you know our numbers are Arabic?
And since you clearly are not an Arab,
you’re wearing of them makes me quite sick!
“And the worlds sprawled across all your clothing,
spelled out in the Latin alphabet…
Unless you’re Roman you shouldn’t wear that,
what the hell is going on in your head?
“You know now that I come to think of it,
Democracy was thought up by the Greeks,
as you’re not one, you shouldn’t be voting,
unless insulting them is what you seek.
“And don’t even think about eating corn,
the First Americans invented it,
it’s part of their culture, so if you care
never again eat a tortilla chip!
“Or you could just grow the hell on up,
cultures borrow from others all the time,
they’re not a straight jacket, they always adapt
to the ever-changing challenge of time.”
I stopped and stared at the man’s angry face,
I figured even he must get the gist,
instead he scowled harder somehow,
cried,”You nothing more then a damn fascist!”
In no mood to waste anymore of my life,
I sighed and walked away from that twit,
appropriated some crunchy tacos,
and stayed up late watching Samurai flicks.
John Hemingway has died at the age of a hundred and five
It was the luck of the Irish he said that helped him to survive
At the age of nineteen he left his home in County Dublin
And enlisted in the Royal Air Force and was officially sworn in.
It was at the age of twenty-one that he took to the sky
After having gained his pilot wings enabling him to fly
He'd gone to England's assistance in their darkest hour
And he never once gave up even when things turned sour.
He was shot down four times but always found his way back
And defended our skies from a relentless German attack
Their brave defence became known as the ‘Battle of Britain’
But for those brave pilots Germany would have won I am certain.
He flew hurricanes and spitfires in combat during his career
Always facing the enemy head on and never showing any fear
Once his spitfire was shot down whilst on a mission over Italy
His parachute didn't deploy fully but his fall was broken by a tree.
Others called him a hero, but he never claimed himself to be
Often said he was just doing a job for the defence of the country
He lost many comrades on missions it was a dangerous thing to do
John and his fellow brave comrades became known as ‘The Few’.
It's people like John who made great sacrifices for their country
And it is because of their sacrifice we live in peace, and are free
We owe those brave pilots a great debt that we can never repay
How fitting for John that he died peacefully on St Patrick's day.
Group Captain John Allman Hemingway
17/07/1919 — 17/03/2025
always, always books
have meant so much
to me
I like the weight of a book
my hands caressing the pages
they have taken me
to many far off places
I have been to France
Italy, Japan
the North Pole
and deep dark Africa
and many other countries of earth
I have walked rainforests
walked cobbled streets
climbed high mountains
felt the Sahara heat
seen all the blue oceans
and gathered sea shells
have listened to the oceans whisper
with their rolling waves
oh, all of nature's wonders can be found
in books
all the creatures of earth
and every kind of bird and flower
and all things green
on pages if you look
I have journeyed across Canada
from ocean, to ocean, to ocean
I have gone on a vision quest
meditated with monks in their
mountain temples
stood on a mountain cliff
with the wind in my hair
rode a unicorn white horse
have researched poets of old
and the great art masters
researched their histories and work
and so much more ...
and I never left home
except in my mind_
_______________________
March 23, 2022 (Edit of a short poem)
Poetry/Free Verse/always books
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1441-794-23
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Brian Strand 1095
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/25/2022
Rob played semi-professional rugby,
From when he was 4 until the age of 21,
When he got a serious spinal cord injury,
Whilst playing that rough game spun.
As part of his rehabilitation sessions,
At Rookwood Hospital, exists in Cardiff,
He played table tennis for his arms,
Which he continued thereafter, his quiff.
That was from 2005, but by ’11’s Euros,
He qualified for London’s Games 2012,
The Paras of tremendous meme flows,
About disability sport, now off the shelf.
But he left lonely and without a medal,
Which made him determined, craving,
So he increased the work and the mile,
He sweat each day, a medal engraving.
He was World No. 6 in 2012, not good,
For him, so he worked on consistency,
And became the Euro Champ good,
In Italy with singles and team tenancy.
In 2015 at the Euros again, in Vejle,
In Denmark, he did the same thing -
Topped the charts with his angle,
In both events - it was plain sailing.
Then, the major victory came in Rio,
The crowd erupted wildly at his win,
Because the tension had been audible,
When he’d wrangled to win gold vin.
“Hello, my name is Lewis, can I order a coke,
Garlic bread with two large pizzas to go.
Extra mozzarella cheese, a few basil leaves
On the finest hand- kneaded pure dough.”
I love the garlic, the beautiful mushrooms,
Oregano, anchovies, and tomato.
Spread ad hoc all over the thin crust,
An edible Starry Nights by Van Gough.
Margherita pizzas made with fresh, non- processed things,
With love and a heart that’s so real.
Make me blissful and satisfied, and healthy and content,
A happy kind of feeling of surreal.
All the delivery options: Supreme, Meat lovers,
Mexican, Pepperoni, and a Veggie Sensation.
I love each one, could eat each all day long,
Completely nourishing my thoughts of starvation.
So a big “thank you”, to the people from Italy,
For inventing such a huge meal with those flavors.
A super, mega, healthy dish, so colorful and vibrant,
Your chefs are our global culinary saviours.