Long Luce Poems
Long Luce Poems. Below are the most popular long Luce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Luce poems by poem length and keyword.
Chiunque sente la lunga mancanza
di coloro che ti hanno amato,
non puo' altro che dire a se stesso,
" L'attesa si chiama tempo...
e un breve mese diventa
un'altro anno piu' lungo;
ed altri mesi piu' insopportabili oscurati da questo
tenerissimo ricordo che
continua ad essere adorato,
e sara' piu' protetto conservandolo per se stesso!"
L' attesa si chiama tempo
per ognuno che ha perso
tanti sorrisi di tenerezza,
e gli abbracci affezionati piu' stretti...
rimasti sospesi nei cuori
lontani che rimpiangono
la loro gioia e distanza;
ci saranno altri giorni senza tristezza alcuna?
Se l'oscurita' e' discesa cosi' rapidamente,
potra' svanire quando una luce accecante
la fara' diventare un sole piu' brillante?
Spera come io spero e certamente dirai,
" L' attesa si chiama tempo, domani sorrideremo! "|
Waiting Is called Time
Whoever misses those
who have loved you truly,
can only say to oneself,
" Waiting is called time,
and the shortest month
becomes another long year,
and more unbearable months
obscured by this tender memory
that continues to be adored,
and will be more protected
by keeping it for oneself. "
Waiting is called time
for everyone who has lost
so many smiles of tenderness
and the closest affectionate hugs
that have remained suspended
in distant hearts that regret
their joy and their distance:
will there be other days
without any sadness?
If darkness has dropped
so rapidly, will it fade
when a blinding light
makes it much brighter?
Try to hope as I hope
and you will certainly say,
" Waiting is called time,
tomorrow we will smile! "
Luce had a million ideas
Her mind ran ahead of her all the time
Capturing things others missed
Putting them into the recesses of
the corners of her dendrite fields
Luce was not afraid to share.
Or take a chance.
She was fearless, showing that being
right was okay, and being wrong was
just another way to figure things out
Another conquest to master.
Luce was not afraid to be wrong.
People did not laugh or make fun of her
when she made a mistake, for they were
in awe at how rapidly her mind processed
and spit out information in surprising
new ways.
Luce was known in her workplace for
her genius, her generosity, and her willingness
to share. She was welcoming and wise, and
it was not long before even the newbies
were in her office, throwing out ideas,
waiting to see what the thought.
The secret of her success? Luce was an idea person.
More importantly she was a great listener.
She encouraged each person she met to tell her their
story. Strangers on the street saw her eyes, and knew.
Waitresses and bus drivers opened up to her like she was their best friend.
There was a magical quality about Luce.
The key to her popularity was that she loved people, and their ideas.
---------------------------------
From
DeGuise De Diva
by Zola Ya Munta
--------------------------------
Ho osservato i volti accigliati nella luce fioca.
Con un tremito nella voce, rispose.
Voglio sposarti», mi disse.
«Desidero lo stesso da te.»
Che allora abbia inizio il nostro viaggio:
io sono la tua donna, tu sei il mio uomo.
Ci siamo baciati;
è sembrato
durare un'eternità.
Noi insieme,
insieme e innamorati
Ho scherzato dicendo che il mio
investimento nell'anello era autentico
Da questo giorno in poi,
desidero che stiamo insieme.
Non voglio un amore a senso unico
dimmi che sarai mio
dimmi che ti importa
Sono innamorato,
così innamorato di te
Oh of Isis love lament
Raging against Ra’s morning light
Where could the time have went
Racing through the desert night
And by the gods of Karnak
We bow to let their power in
And make a solemn promise
To return time and time again
Now to meet my princess
On the banks of the Nile
To embrace forever more
Never to lose my lovers smile
Blessed by the gods
Granted and gifted light
On our lips a promise
And then we rush into the night
Of gay Paris’s happenings
Oui, oui I do recall
That covered balcony
That overlooked it all
The torrid love affair
In the heat of passion true
An ancient promise kept
Memories along the rue
And then I met my lover
Well down by the shore
On the banks of the Seine
We embraced each other once more
Granted and gifted light
Our passions wildly burn
And once again my love
We submit to the nocturne
Flores De la Noche
How they do intoxicate
As I stand so anxiously
Aside a Spanish lake
And then my lover’s face
Graced with “luce a lun”
Our vows reaffirmed
And not a moment too soon
For there on the banks
Of the lake Asturias
The strength of our promise
Is there to carry us
And then as before
We’re graced and gifted light
In the favor of our Father
We go once again into the night
And here we stand today
Reunited yet again
Same love and same heart
Only under a different skin
And on a beach Pacific
From a distance I see my love
And I give thanks and praise
To the mighty One above
Meeting brings us round again
To fulfill our ancient ties
This I knew the very moment
That I gazed into your eyes
For once again the gods
Have granted and gifted light
And our promise afresh fulfilled
We go perpetually into the night
A black ringlet
curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember:
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh ...
our soft cries, like regret,
... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...
now that I have forgotten her face.
Published by Poetry Magazine, La luce che non muore (Italy), Carnelian, Triplopia, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry Life & Times, The Eclectic Muse, Strange Road, Inspirational Stories, Kritya (India) and Centrifugal Eye.
Colour intermingled
in the spectator’s eye
divisions juxtapose
‘as is’ moment ..dot.. by dot..
frozen forever
as a ‘still-life’ shot
Colours in contrast
one next
to another
patiently painted
dab by dab
Planes into particles
pigments of paint
in patches react
divisionist,
pointillist juxtapose
into our eye colour flows.
Meticulous,mechanical
the illusion
into shape
palettes of the fleeting
made permanent
Pointillist People
louis hayet
alfred finch&
verhaeren
.. then
georges lemmen
angrand henri cross
van de velde &
albert dubois-pillet
& lets
not forget
camille&lucien
father&son pissarro
you may know
maximillan luce
jan toorup&
van rysselberghe
& you'll already heard
of
signac &seurat
stand so tall
pointillistas*
one&all
Colours in contrast
one next
to another,
patiently painted
dab by dab.
Cyan, magenta
yellow and key
illume the picture we see.
Planes into
particles,pigments of paint
in patches react
divisionist pointillist
juxtapose
into our eye
distinct colour flows
Meticulous mechanical
eye into mind defined
the illusion into shape.
In palettes of
permanance
the fleeting flies
sans such subtraction
luminosity lives
Seurat, and Signac’s
legacy survives