Long Mediterranean sea Poems
Long Mediterranean sea Poems. Below are the most popular long Mediterranean sea by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mediterranean sea poems by poem length and keyword.
I always did fantasize about our diverse earth;
Its freezing stones in the fridges of the Arctic and Antarctic landscapes.
The idyllic playgrounds on the quiet sands of the Mediterranean Sea banks,
The amazing sun baked plains of the smoothened Sahara brown,
The tropical Haven of humid air, where the golden sun awakes in a fair and bright morning, and sets at even with its magnificent crimson smile.
What a cozy feeling can its temperate climes bring; with its sheer abundance of Clement weather.
A paradise indeed of ambient mildness.
I long for the warm gardens of Eden’s residues, with their ebullient and lush tropical green.
How pleasant it would be to cascade down the many waterfalls in an imaginary and wonderland fashion.
To go atop the zenith of each mountainous heaven from which pinnacle point you have the panoramic view of your own vanquished plains.
I once disappeared into the wind, in a midsummer night’s dream to see my global fantasies come true.
And like a boisterous eagle,
I glided high to the heavens for this global and utterly delightful bird’s eye view.
To all my dear Super SOUPERS!
In less than two hours I'll be off to the airport! Going to have some fun and sun on the sunny Island of CYPRUS!!! :) It's been a hectic summer and it will be good for my family and me to get away.
No connection at my daughter's student pad, but I will try to get on now and again from my Dad's place. I won't be posting poems for about 10 days if I can keep away that long. Just wanted to let you all know I haven't croaked and died. I'll be back! Don't miss me too much and DON'T forget me.
:) Hugs to one and all....
Can't wait to swin in the beautiful Mediterranean Sea! I love swimming!!! I'm in my element in the water!!!
Hugs you all! :)
Eileen
Long before Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and Greeks,
Before Hammurabi, Sargon and Ramses ruled
The world below their feet;
Before biblical scenes and mythological dreams
Of magical carpet rides,
I knew you back then
Where sea breezes begin
And history was a gleam in your eye...
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain,
They called you Ricotis as I recall
Earth Mother once called you by name.
Nestled on the Mediterranean Sea of monsters,
Pirates and explorers renowned,
You were not much more than desert floor
Until the conqueror came to town.
Alexander, Alexander, God-man, ruler-thought divine,
Sailed by your winds where the world begins
And knowledge was born and thrived.
In the halls of those palaces and places
He built from his own vision quest,
To rule a world of enlightened beings
Where all people could achieve their best.
Though he never quite saw your white marble walls,
With pillars of gold and blue;
Of the Serapeum filled with scholarly souls
Recording their own world view.
He never knew Pythagoras, philosopher, scientist extraordinaire;
Or the historians Philo and Josephus
And the volumes of memories they shared.
The early Christians, Church Fathers and Saints
Origen, Clement and Mark;
Alexander never knew what he finally did
When he gave you that worldly start.
You’ve seen the Pharos come and go,
Dynasties crumble and fall;
Romans and Greeks swept right off their feet
And Cleopatra’s castle walls.
Pagans, Jews and Christians too
All vying for your love;
As whispering winds of Freemason friends
Tell of Hermes below and above.
While Islam and Mohammed rule
In the shadow of the Sphinx,
Pyramids and temples filled with hieroglyphs
And obelisks that make you
Stop and think…
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain;
So little I’ve spoken about you today
Compared to all I’ve gained.
Since the first day I once met you
In that dream so way back when…
Alexandria, Alexandria, so glad we’re still
Good friends.
She is a widow, never wanting to marry again, never defiling her vows,
her five children have moved to other parts of the United States;
and they seldom visit her, except on the very special season of Christmas,
when she adorns her home with garlands and lights to honor the Child Jesus...
Her name is Amelia, a petite lady from Andalusia,whose passion is writing poems,
and her Spanish accent is somewhat heavy, but the words are clear and precise;
on long summer's nights she speaks of her native land...meadows covered with camellias,
and tells tales of Columbus and the Conquistadors with feathered helmets...
She was quite beautiful in her younger days, daises in her dark, lustruos hair,
and sea-colored eyes that resembled the Mediterranean Sea, which brought her nostalgia;
and she often wore a folklorist costume of stripes of bright orange and yellow like her flag,
and now she's confined to a wheelchair looking sad...who has camellias for Amelia?
This past spring I planted a dozen of camellias plants in the empty and barren lawn,
hoping they would bloom when she would stare at the huge Atlantic Ocean;
and with eyes as sharp as a youngster, Amelia would see her beloved Spain,
and those lush meadows covered with camellias to bring her bitter-sweet pain.
In the quite hours of an early August' morning, Amelia rose to say her prayers,
and with the rosary in her devoted hands, she peaked outside and surprisingly smiled;
a beautiful garden of camellias appearing in front of her joyous eyes... she was so delighted,
but she couldn't go outside and caress them, but thought to herself, " Someone cares! "
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
I swam inside the Mediterranean Sea.
In what would be my Glory Days, off Valencia’s coast,
I dipped my foot in freezing water;
withdrew it; then dipped it in again.
(I’d always had my own will even then,
just didn’t realize how strong it was).
Disappointingly, my one day to enjoy the sea was cold.
I still cannot recall if others from my group
ventured out there with me and stayed for long
although I remember a few of them were shivering
riding on the bus to go back home.
Oh, it was so very long ago!
Nor can I recollect the suit I wore
(I do know I was plump then;
"Gordita” the men called out to me).
The season - was it early spring or still the winter?
And what specific color claimed the sea that day
along my beloved Iberia’s splendid shore?
Of that afternoon, I remember only this:
Aimlessly I let my body float first in one direction,
then another; keeping my eyes always on land,
my body numb, accustomed to the freeze.
No one was around me; I drifted, sometimes nearly straying. . .
just I - all alone -
letting my whole self go. . . for maybe 40 minutes.
It was something I felt that I just had to do
so that years later, standing here today
(“Gordita” frozen deep inside me)
I can say that I swam in that mighty, ancient sea.
Life is a dangerous struggle
Full of inconsistencies, challenges and pains
Life is not fair even to the fair skinned
The dark skinned are not faring better either
In everyone's backyard a little rain must drop
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it.
In life, even the rich also cry
The poor in pains and agonies cries ceaselessly
The middle class have no problems 'cause they never existed
The orphans on the street go bare footed and hungry
Everyone is plagued by this turbulent journey called life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it.
Life is an endless and unpleasant adventure
Ending in one phase and continues in another phase
Beggers beg and no one gives to them
Widows cry and no one hears their voice
Everyone is caught up in this crazy web called life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it
In life, the religious are not the righteous
The righteous looks rough and rugged
Unnoticed because they have no class
For long we have been in this turmoil called life
And it has promised to continue unabated, no end at sight
Whatever happens, set your goals and go for it
The smart acts smartly by running away
They cross the sea, the Mediterranean sea
Unfortunately, you can't run away from life
Run away from it here and you will meet it there
Even though we're here, I know we'll soon be there
Only if we can set our goals and go for it
Life is everywhere, has no friends, has no foes
Life rewards, reproved and reprimands
Everyone is lotted opportunities in life
And it's their responsibility to take them
The faithful pray while the unfaithful prey
Whatever you do, set your goals and go for it
Life has no end, life has no beginning
Life is an omen, the omen never lies
Life keeps everyone busy on their own lane
Though some lanes are fast, some are slow
But ultimately every vehicle gets to its destination
Only if we can just set our goals and go for it
Life cares for no one, Life is hostile
Life is an excruciating and toilsome lot
Imperfect Life preaches perfection
Unfortunately, no one needs perfection
We're all trapped in this vicious cycle called Life
Whatever be your lot, set your goals and go for it
What a way to begin the week,
A crystal blue sky reflected in a Mediterranean sea.
A Thousand Kisses Deep by Leonard Cohen,
The melody that is, not the words
Waft out from the speaker
Of the beach front hotel
In Port de Pollenca, Mallorca.
I'm biding my time, gazing onto the calm
With, coffee and treat.
There's nothing blue about this Monday
An unexpected moment of,
Bliss and solitude
Takes hold
Where everything is perfect
In a sometimes, imperfect world.
The trumpet players lips caress the melody
of; A Thousand Kisses Deep.
Sending out its waves onto a
Blue Mediterranean bay.
Then a text bleeps,
'Leaving in five.'
I arise, take up my bike and walk
In step and on the right note
For the day ahead.
Nigerian people let us embrace the truth,
Bad Belly is Bad Belly
It is Bad Belly when your Father beats his chest,
And declares that "he is the giant of Africa,"
But he cannot boast of ordinary twenty four hours of
Uninterrupted power or water supply; your citizens are dying
In droves from lung cancer because of generator fumes
Bad Belly is when you say "you are a giant,"
But your children are dying in droves due to massive insecurity,
Investors are fleeing your country in droves;
Because the people who should protect them are underfunded, ill equipped and corruption breathes in every facet of our society
Bad Belly is when an Army officer gives you a dirty slap for being a good citizen, and a police officer who is standing by, says "esprit de corps to him and all correct sir," then orders you to turn the other cheek
It is Bad Belly when your Father says "he is a giant,"
But millions of graduates who toiled and paid millions to obtain their degrees have become beggars in their own country
It is Bad Belly when your yard is littered with gold, oil,
And all kinds of unquantifiable mineral resources,
But your citizens are dying in droves in an attempt to bail out of your country through the Mediterranean sea
It is Bad Belly when a defender clears a goal bound shot
From the goal line during extra time, and the coach labels him "a weak player" instead of a part on the shoulder; then turns around and invites a "basket" who greased his palms
Bad Belly is when you take your brand new car for an oil change which should cost no more than a few hundred Nairas, and the mechanic calls you and says a major overhaul of your car engine, carburetor, rack and pinion, odometer and shock absorbers, running into thousands of Nairas is needed
Bad Belly is when you are shedding tears of joy because
Life is good, but your neighbor who doesn't like seeing your ugly face says: "you are shedding crocodile tears."
Nigerians let us face the truth, : Bad Belly is BAD BELLY!
This rock of the brave
In the Mediterranean Sea
There is a Maltese Maiden
A lure for me
We will meet in it's Capital
Steeped in history
Valletta is it's name
But for tonight it's our chemistry
After a three hour flight
In Malta I land
To the hotel I am taken
Corinthia Marina so grand
I am now booked in
On my balcony I await
Looking over St George's Bay
For my Maltese date
I hear a knock at the door
As I open at ease
A beautiful sight I see
Has my blue eyes in please
A dark haired maiden
With skin so tanned
So beautifully dressed
Like a million grand
On the balcony we sit
With a vintage red wine
My heart is pounding
At her beauty so fine
I lay down my glass
In pursuit of a kiss
She responds like a magnet
Our lips now in bliss
I take her by the hand
My Maltese girl
My heart pounding
In an ever-ending twirl
Into my arms I take her
In kissing embrace
Our hands now in wander
In undressing grace
We fall on the bed
Of silken sheets
Where our adventure begins
As our bodies meet
In carnal crave
We join as one
As we are shadow dancing
In the late evening sun
The depths of our love
As we share our potions
In arched sync
Rhythmic explosions
As we sigh and groan
At the moment we have shared
For tonight on this brave island
Our love has been declared
We awake in the morning
Entwined in each others arms
And our sensuous joys
Loving charms
We spend the day
Holding hands and kissing
With my Maltese Maiden
In many years, we'll be reminiscing
For a Lady, whose heart is as big as the island she stays on " Charmaine Chirop "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-4.php
I watched them took-off for their search for greener pastures
Adventurers with unclosed or unknown destinations
One thing was sure; they were going to cross the Mediterranean
Their determination overweighed the risk ahead of them
They were so desperate for a better life than their present conditions
Even like armless soldiers at war, they were ready to embark on their journey
These were all disgruntled youths from Africa
Their fingers of anger were all pointed at their leaders and governments
I watched them packed their loads, ready to face the unknown
Their faces proved disappointments from their fatherlands
In their minds, there was no better place than across the Mediterranean
These were jobless graduates from Africa
It was better to die in a strange land than live in a corrupt fatherland
These youths were running away from embezzlement and violation of human rights
But little did they know that all their dreams would be shattered in the Mediterranean Sea
I saw a group of frustrated mothers when the sad news stormed our land
Their dreams for a rich and better life had drowned in the Mediterranean
They cried with accusing fingers pointed at the government
Yet the government showed no compassion for her fallen compatriots
Neither did they express any pity for tears of these poor mothers
How I wished this injustice was rendered to them as well
But there was so little I could do by then