Long Sorrento Poems
Long Sorrento Poems. Below are the most popular long Sorrento by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sorrento poems by poem length and keyword.
Harsh are the winters
in North America and one
must drink hot coffee
or chocolate to revive
himself, not to let his bones
freeze and possibly crack.
By a window frosted with snow,
one sees mountains and vallies,
even an occasional hungry deer,
or a groaling scary grizzly bear
looking in the open trash can.
My inconsolable glance is fixed
on that white blanket when
a snow flower winks at me,
it's sadness is lack of sunlight
as we both lament meadows
that stretch under splendid skies.
Dreaming sets no limits whatsoever,
it's a boundery as infinity as space,
venture into it, excitement awaits you;
when winter refuses to leave,dream!
Perhaps tonight going to sleep,
I'll dream of the whitest sails flapping
departing for the Mediterranean Sea;
o starless night, breathing in mysterious
silence, make me dream of Sorrento
as soon as reality vanishes and dreams
begin with the voice of the young sailors
cheering...hoping to find their sweetheart!
Written on 8/11/2017
2025.1.26
It is Australia day, congratulations.
There were so many different opinions.
National day or Devided day?
Celebrate the Country or
Morn the Invasion's history?
To avoid the political heated debates
I headed to Sorrento beautiful bay,
To soak up the warm sun's ray,
and let the winds softly brushed my face.
The Sun shined high in the blue sky,
The white clouds danced and drifted away slowly.
The waves swayed rhymthly with the sea breeze.
I climbed up to the St Paul's Look Out,
The 360° uninterrupted view around me.
Providing a breath taking panorama view.
Down the long path timber steps,
I walked along the Coppins track.
The low tides helped exposing many sea rocks' surfaces,
Flat, layered, rough and smooth plateau.
Which normally covered by the sea water.
In the bottom of the sea baths.
The waves rushed in and swiped
All the objects on their paths,
Once the water spreaded evenly,
At the edge of each rock's surface,
As the sea water poured down,
Small water falls liked were formed.
Just like the table cloths would drop.
Slowly, I reached Jubilee Point.
A magnificent coast line and beaches run side by side.
Facing the water, the Sphrinx on my far right,
Diamond Bay was just on the other side.
Diamond like glittered on the surface of the water.
Not far away, the timber stairs path,
Led to the Bays of Island.
Australia, especial in Victoria,
With large lushed lands, deep blue oceans,
We should form one country.
I had a wonderful and peaceful day.
I let the political debates behind,
Kept someone out of my mind.
2025.3.15
Today, I visited Sorrento back Beach.
Swam only for five minutes.
Both the swell and the current
Were too high and too strong for me.
Fortunately, the Lifeguard Mason,
Assisted me to get down to the ocean,
Where the waves were less violent.
I held onto his yellow rescue board,
Under my armbit, as he instructed.
When the perfect moment arrived,
Mason asked me to flow and then to dive,
I managed to swim butterfly style.
Mason curious raised a question
If I could do other swim fashion
He was quite amaze when I said
I could do all the swim techniques.
I had a fantastic time today
First time swam in such big waves
With the assistance by the Lifeguard Mason
From the Sorrento Surf Life Saving Club.
I sincerely thank Mason and his Life guard team.
I felt privileged and being blessed to have
Such a wonderful day trip to swimming.
I wished my friend was here with me,
To capture on video or photos
All the fun and new swimming experience.
2025.5.5
It was the 5th day of winter.
Somehow the weather was still warm,
It tickled my travel's bones.
Yes, I went all the way to Queenscliff Geelong.
I came here several times in the past,
But missed climbing up the tower part.
With it magnificent 360° clear view,
I circulated the platform along the glass windows.
My time of arrival was coincide with
The departure of the ferry Sorrento - Queenscliff.
I casted my eyes to the north-west,
There were three Islands Swan, Mangrove and Rabbit.
The Point Nepean on the far east across the sea.
On the east side of Queenscliff
There was a stretch of sand beach,
Curving it all the way to Point Lonsdale.
In one hour time, I could enjoy the sun set,
Beyond the horizon of the marina bay.
It would be lovely if I could stay.
But I had to give all that a miss,
Head back to Geelong and then home.
There will be another warm day in winter,
Before the weather drops to low temperature.
I just have to make the trip again
With or without friend in the future.
Where there is will there is way.
On some bleak airfield on some Cambridge fen
(that awful winter – 'forty-seven, I think)
my mother, novice servicewoman then,
crossed parade-ground like a skating rink
to see the Christmas concert on the camp.
Inside, the nissen hut was black as ink
till airmen lit a feeble spirit lamp.
The snow was driving against one outer wall:
she calls to mind a smell of tents and damp
and stinging fingers, fresh from snowballs,
and gouts of steam, blown out in cloudy spurts
as people laughed. Then lights dimmed in the hall.
She now recalls a curious stab of hurt
to see the Italian janitor of the base
revealed onstage in P.O.W. shirt
when curtains opened. What had been a place
of uproar, now – faced by this threadbare clown –
had undergone some dreadful loss of face.
In dubbin make-up, N.A.A.F.I. dressing-gown,
as solemn as a high priest at the altar,
this patched-up Pagliacci, ear-flaps down,
sang ludicrously well. The keyboard faltered,
and stopped. The singer, weeping now, kept on,
quite heedless, as his clown's nose dripped tear-water.
There's something sacred in the humblest song
(with wretchedness wrought into lasting good
through alchemy of art) and, all along,
the watchers, to their horror, understood.
He sang so gorgeously of going home
because he knew full well he never would.
(N.A.A.F.I. = universal store, found on
every British military base)
On some bleak airfield on some Cambridge fen
(that awful winter - 'forty-seven, I think)
my mother, novice servicewoman then,
crossed parade-ground like a skating rink
to see the Christmas concert on the camp.
Inside, the quonset hut was black as ink
till airmen lit a feeble spirit lamp.
The snow was driving against one outer wall:
she calls to mind a smell of tents and damp
and stinging fingers, fresh from thrown snowballs,
and gouts of steam, blown out in cloudy spurts
as people laughed. Then lights dimmed in the hall.
She now recalls a curious stab of hurt
to see the Italian janitor of the base
revealed onstage in P.O.W. shirt
when curtains opened. What had been a place
of uproar, now - faced by this threadbare clown -
had undergone some dreadful loss of face.
In dubbin make-up, N.A.A.F.I. dressing-gown,
as solemn as a high priest at the altar,
this patched-up Pagliacci, ear-flaps down,
sang ludicrously well. The keyboard faltered,
and stopped. The singer, weeping now, kept on,
quite heedless, as his clown's nose dripped tear-water.
There's something sacred in the humblest song
(with wretchedness wrought into lasting good
through alchemy of art) and, all along,
the watchers, to their horror, understood.
He sang so gorgeously of going home
because he knew full well he never would.
I won a holiday voucher; good luck had come my way
So we put the money towards my bucket list holiday
Ever since was small I’d dreamed of visiting Italy
To view the Pompeii ruins a sight I wanted to see
We flew off to stay in Sorrento at the Hotel Caravelle
The hotel was so grand, our bedroom was really swell
We booked to go to Pompeii on an organised tour
A little minibus picked us up outside the hotel door
It took us on a trip to the local railway station
To meet our tour rep who’d fill us with information
Pompeii was so amazing, on cobbled streets we’d tread
visiting ruined houses, and seeing relics of the dead
who’d perished when Mount Vesuvius tragically erupted
bodies frozen in time when their lives were all disrupted
A visit to Herculaneum was the highlight of our vacation
I preferred it to Pompeii due to the state of preservation
The well preserved remains exceeded all expectation
I vow to I’ll return to Italy without any hesitation!
We both want to repeat a bus trip along the Amalfi drive
With the skill of our bus driver we made it home alive!
What Have You Kicked Off On Your Bucket List Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
12/04/20
Missed someone a lot,
No words nor thoughts.
Could describe how it was.
But what was the point,
When someone has already gone.
One more "hello", one more "goodbye",
For the good and the last time.
Could not believe or imagine,
How I was treated the way you did.
I love piano music sound to my ears.
You said things music to my ears,
But nothing valid.
I need time and energy to do things,
Like piano, embroidery, poetry and travelling.
So spare me with your words and promises.
All my precious time and energy
Has been exhausted.
None left to do anything else.
Long weekend is coming up.
So as the heat and warm weather.
Sorrento, Phillip Island and Apollo Bays,
Here I come, one by one and day after day.
That is what I pray.
My long weekend trips had changed and ruined,
By your early morning text messages.
On Saturday, 2025.03.08@03:08:00.
You texted me to let me know,
It was your birthday, you turned 21+ years old.
You also wanted to let me know,
The reasons why you stopped saying hello,
And all forms of communications.
I respected your birthday was a significant event,
Happily to celebrate with you,
I was willing to change my travelling trip,
With late afternoon visit to the beach,
Then a dinner at an Asian restaurant,
Nothing fancy, nothing luxury,
Just for the good time keep sake.
I thought at least, my gestures
And actions were appreciated.
To show my gratitude to you,
For helping me in my poetry's journey.
But it turned out it was all my own naive ideas,
You did not give a damn about it.
You turned the rest of my plan upside down.
My travelling plan was from Sorrento back beach,
I was happy to change it to Williamstown beach,
From Phillip Island turned into Apollo Bay,
From Anglesea into who knows where it will be.
Every where you visited,
You said how beautiful that place was.
Within two months, you hurt me twice. No more.
Enjoy while you can,
Good luck to your accommodation's plan,
I don't care if it is in Victoria or other states in Australia.
Just don't bother me again.
The music
is her breath,
or…wind…
into the open
bottle. The songs
of folk-lore.
***
Around her bon-fire,
embers sear the sleeve,
of her Hoodie;
The sparks
are as red
as the blood
of a burst
aneurism.
Thus...
she could have
a "broken heart".
The sparklers
in their hands,
the flames
of our Sun,
dressing
the edges...
of Sorrento Cliffs,
that think
they could
conquer
the sky.
The beach
in a dream...
melts the sea
and sky
into a flesh-
colored
palette
of all
light browns.
I said,
She listened...
I like her.
***
A chord,
of a guitar,
strummed;
a piano
played
by ear.
Meg rocked
to the melody
of her life.
Human-like
spirits...Gods…
in her eyes.
***
He remembers:
The 1940s-
a decade
as dark
as a tree
in the night…
to me.
A poet’s verse.
By
Walt Whitman.
The "Nor' Easter"
crushes...
yet...
the snow
falling:
hush...
such a
yearning
is mine.
***
Dissection…
of the sentence;
a line...
" No, this is a true story!"
The story…
as simple
as the BUD
in Spring,
as complex
as the flower,
as it BLOOMS.