Long Verdi Poems
Long Verdi Poems. Below are the most popular long Verdi by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Verdi poems by poem length and keyword.
the opera starts and the guy comes out and says,
"look, fidelity is for losers."
a bloodbath is coming
so is this opera in july
but we sit in preparation for Verdi
and i send messages about
the great parking space
and it begins
and after five minutes
my son turns to me and says, "dad, i like this."
i am turned into something
pure bliss
my son reads during the interval
and i walk to the back of the opera house
i count six smartphones dropped in the dress circle
followed by tutting and disgruntled people
the chocolate has melted in my pocket
but so have i
digitialised sand and upcoming tears.
the back of the ticket reads,
'alcoholics are refused entry.'
but we're all drunk on our US cotton
Aida souvenir shop XL T-shirts
(In his opera ‘Nabucco’, Verdi included this song.
The dispossessed Jews represent Verdi’s own
Italians, who were being oppressed by Austria.
It's an anthem for exiles everywhere.)
Go, my thoughts, on golden wings
to where my feet would love to tread,
to where the blackbird of the twilight sings
as day subsides and shadows spread,
to where the gentle murmurings
of languid streams console the dead.
Oh my land, so fair, so lost!
All our troubles come from men.
Can the sunlight crack the frost?
Will I see my home again?
Carry me across the waves
to where my soul will sleep at peace,
to where the ageless architraves
disdain our turbulent caprice:
where none are owners, none are slaves,
and winter yields to summer's lease.
The end of Autumn is still mild
and the majestic Mounts of Partenio
have no trace of snow; lovely Baiano
at its foot is tamed, not wild.
One can spot, looking up with delight,
different colors of lilacs and roses,
lulled by the softest breeze on balconies
and windowsills open to glaring sunlight;
a Verdi aria is sung by a housewife
who is bored, but looking outside
she sees all the beauty that excites life
and lets her daughter improvise!
Hasty shallows are leaving
the sky of Baiano, a picturesque town lying
in a valley between sturdy mountains
that protect her from the harshest winters;
see that slim boy run down Via IV Novembre
holding his books in his right hand with care!
Only the grey-breasted robbins choose to stay,
they shriek emitting a loud cry; warm is their nests
beneath the red rooftops when frozen rain pelts;
ah, they sadly follow the trail of the shallows in dismay!
This flaming sunset blinds as the old bronze bells
of Santa Croce ring; and in this church, I sat, pondered, and prayed
and singing the hymns written by a monk that lived
two hundred years ago, and now in the golden city of God, he dwells!
Hasty swallows are leaving
the sky of Baiano betraying their trust
in an iridescent season very calm and charming;
I chase after them, then I stop and start to grunt!
Wednesday's rain was in a shrouded sheet,
With puddles moving toward the ditches;
But Thursday's forecast brought no repeat,
Oklahoma weather leaves me in stitches.
Thursday starts cloudy but turns to sunny,
With northwest winds and gusts to thirty;
Weather changes make eyes and nose runny,
Like to vacation in the Isle of Cape Verdi.
Today's wind is northerly and bitter cold,
Bringing a chance of snow, though slight;
Even yesterday's seventy was foretold,
But morning's twenty-eight is no delight.
Twixt me and Kansas, not much but fences,
To have slowing effect on this north wind;
I'll say I'm thrilled under false pretenses,
It has its bite when your blood is thinned.
Friday brings with it another high at fifty,
With northwest wind blowing around ten;
Turning south/southeast becoming shifty,
Saturday its back to the northwest again.
For Sunday's weather I have no clue,
May be hot and raining or sleet and snow;
It's too deep for my mind to construe,
Oklahoma weather, one can never know.
If I long for days both calm and sunny,
And today's cold weather seems strange;
I just remember life is so unlike honey,
And wait a short while for it to change.
Born in New York of Italian descent-
from childhood on- lasting still all these years,
Deep in my soul live the sounds of lament-
The drama of romance, fear, death, and tears.
The power, the movements, fill up my soul
Like thunder that roars to shake up the night;
So vibrant and flowing, lost in the role,
I listen to grasp each note with delight.
Emotional voices strike at my heart,
I'm filled with a depth I cannot explain-
The beauty, the sadness in every part
Bring stories to life that stir inner pain.
Yes, opera is a big part of me;
My favorites played again and again-
Puccini, Bizet and those of Verdi;
Of Tosca, Carmen, and best, La Boheme.
With musical dramas of life and death-
The singers stir feelings with every word.
Strong voices mingle to deepen my breath;
Emotions rise with each aria heard.
Born in New York of Italian descent-
My family loved and nurtured this art;
played records at home- with happy hours spent
at the Met- where opera lifted my heart.
"The Clementine"
for the plucking,
the Clementine
leaves were fresher back then
the light glistened stronger
each segment a morsel
a revision slow and deliberate
transcribed by Jerome
gates to be opened
and consumed
in latin passages
verdi vulgate ancient fruit
before the modern world
the meaning lost
for those lost
between orchards
of words, opened
before
the greater great war,
a harvest, the Q source
strange language
strange stories
some found
apocryphal,
the hidden
didymos Thomas,
buried by strict canons
revealed untrue
in that strange winter
the orchards
were all burned
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
apocryphal. Adjective
apocrypha. Noun
didymos/Greek, meaning.
Q Source
Thomas
Jerome
The work I do is not the most prestigious one,
from four to twelve thirty I drive...until my shift is done;
a forklift driver rarely takes a coffee-break,
and being courteous and helpful to customers means a lot.
My long-life dream was to be a songwriter like Andrew Lloyd Webber, but my songs
didn't click...they never made the Top Ten on the Billboard Charts;
and although they didn't sell well to make it my profession, I still hold my thumb up...
that if a famous recording artist performed them, I'd have a huge hit!
My free time is devoted to creating lyrics that I will set to music in late hours;
and I would never be a Mozart, Verdi, or Beethoven if didn't knock on doors
and expose my works to those who would be willing to listen without reluctance...
could one be old and succeed as the young ones with fresher, brighter ideas?
For now, I remain the same blue collar guy coloring more illusive dreams;
many approach me and say," Don't give up...you have plenty of chances!".
I do want to believe that and wear the deserved crown and be lauded as others...
'till my lucky day comes, I must make a living and have the faith of the achievers.
Having been born in legendary Italy,a country
as old as the stones of the Via Appia,
made me recall the fiery image of Attila...
the barbarian from Hungary,
who dared to defeat the mighty Romans:
by sacking their imperial city with clanking swords!
Attila might have become the new emperor,
if he hadn't abandoned that land he came to conquer,
but golloped away...vanishing into the unknown:
remorseful or giving up on becoming great;
and some agree that he was as untaimed as a lion...
with a chilvalry to melt any woman's heart!
Many great battles were fought on this soil,
fortified by faith,valor and blood:
an Italy immortalized by Vergil,
Dante,Davinci,Michelangelo and Verdi: a legacy continuing today;
and I, as her native son, like to lead the way...
to be among these and not vanish into nothing!
Where I walked as a teen, castles rose towards
crimson skies to capture my fancy and hold me in wonder,
until dusk came with the tinkling bells; and sweet mother
called me...her voice echoing,with affectionate loveliness,
amid the pine trees and a garden of blooming roses;
there, at the gate's entrance, she waited with flowers!
From a tiny spring, flowing from the snow-capped mountains,
I drank the purest water and saved some in my canteen...
while my companions threw rocks at each other and told jokes;
and none of us were older than seventeen!
O golden days,return to vivid memory...
when we are taken by reminiscence to renew vows of loyalty!
By a bright lamp,I'll write these memoirs 'till morning,
and whenever sleep comes...I'm ready to hop in bed,dreaming
to be in Amalfi or Positano along the rugged coast of emerald...
listening to the murmurs of the gleaming sea,so old,
overlooked by the immobile stars and hear a happy mandolin play
a serenade and to be taken into eternity!
I'm finally there, retracing each footstep on a stony path,
running through the streets of my fled youth;
wouldn't I be happy to stay and find a place to rest?
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
What better than a summer afternoon?
Where else, but on the trail to La Toscana?
Who is it mounts a mens that's not more sana,
devouring a voluptuous Verdi tune?
Which month might one elect, which isn't June?
I'll pass on Sassafrass and Lisdoonvarna,
to binge on bars, basilicas and Barna.
I like my treasures liberally-strewn.
You're cynical? Think pinnacles don't serve?
I can't agree. A twelvemonth of frustrations,
quotidian slap-downs and humiliations
are answered now. We've finally capped the curve.
The clouds will come again, of course, but verve
should also have its vestals. A libation!
Today’s Weather Forecast???
Written: by Tom Wright
1/30/2013
Wednesday’s rain was in a shrouded sheet,
With puddles moving toward the ditches;
But Thursdays forecast brings no repeat,
Oklahoma weather leaves me in stitches.
Thursday starts cloudy but turns to sunny,
With northwest wind and gusts to thirty;
Weather changes make eyes red and runny,
Like to vacation in the Isle of Cape Verdi;
Today’s wind is northerly and bitter cold,
Bringing a chance of snow, though slight;
Even yesterday’s seventy was foretold,
But morning’s twenty-eight is no delight.
Twixt me and Kansas, not much but fences,
To have slowing effect on this north wind;
I’ll say I’m thrilled under false pretenses,
It has its bite when my blood is thinned.
Friday brings with it another high at fifty,
With northeast wind blowing around ten;
Turning south/southeast becoming shifty,
Saturday it’s back to the northwest again.
For Sunday’s weather, I have no clue,
May be hot and raining with sleet or snow;
It’s too deep for my mind to construe,
Oklahoma weather, one can never know.
If I long for days both calm and sunny,
And today’s cold weather seems strange.
I just remember life can be unlike honey,
And wait a short while for it to change.