Long Villas Poems
Long Villas Poems. Below are the most popular long Villas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Villas poems by poem length and keyword.
small forest
The small forest or the woods by the white road
made of crushed sea-shells, was a place of enchantment
Squirrels played here and had no fear of lone dreamers
stumbling over oak roots.
I used to walk there when cows had
been milked, fed
and the mucking out was done,
fresh strew strewn
in stalls, and the barn had contented animals
I could do so many things in the forest, be an Indian or
take out my pocket phonographic book,
the milkmaid
gave me and masturbated.
especially drawn to pictures of cunnilingus women
seemed to enjoy this form of sex, I was horrified when
told this was not a manly act, ye the pleasured faces
stayed on my mind.
A year later, I drove to the forest
it was a private estate
high walls and posh villas, but the squirrels had gone
I laughed out laud
The good people in the villas will never know my secrets
here, where I dedicated and trained for a hearty sex life to come.
An edited version of my book: The Collected Work, of
Poetry, Vignettes, Humor and Political Statements
Being happy was my wish for cynosure,
in living, I sought either fame or wealth...
having seen the results of utter foolishness;
although I claim nothing, I have everything.
No villas in Hollywood with a big screen and pool,
no ranches on the wild prairies of Southern Texas,
no suites on the Upper East Side* or Greenpoint,*
only a studio in Queens*where I write and compose.
Cynosure can enrich or even destroy someone's life,
it's a light we are attracted to, its brilliance is delusive;
and following any dream we must stay on the same path,
not diverge and go astray to find something so destructible.
Many have a cynosure for arts, others for law and science;
whatever your vocation is: follow it and be very successful,
on the contrary, the majority of us must settle for much less,
leading a normal life and raise children who'll become leaders.
Let your cynosure for contentment fill you with great delights,
learn from the wise and the smart, choose wisdom and life;
drink wine, celebrate each given moment with sheer thrill,
and despite your rank, you can't be denied the joy of living.
* Upper East Side: New York City
* Greenpoint: Brooklyn, NY
* Queens: one of the four counties
which make up NY City
Written on 6/27/2016
Baiano is my charming Campanian town,
at the foot of the Paterno's mountain,
noble roman settlers came to build their villas,
but the barbarians and Spartacus ransacked it;
then other invaders: the Normans, the Hungarians,
the Swedish and Spaniards occupied it!
Baiano is an ancient town, not as widely famous
as many northern towns, but keeps up with the modern times;
come here in springtime, and see the season's enchantment:
sunflowers and lilies fields spread out in the misty distance...
as the orange and apple trees dress in green and wait
for the magical summer for that palatable fragrance!
In the soccer fields, kids play in the hot afternoons
while their parents watch them from colorful shades;
the elders sit in their comfortable plastic chairs,
napping under the shade of a casual oak tree,so tall,
planted by a student on Earth Day many summers ago...
and he proudly stands by it counting its living years!
O adorable town, left by me, for social reasons when
I was forced to flee and leave this youth undone,
with friends I hung out in the church's yard...
to kick that ball in the net, and become elated;
could I have gotten all that energy from the southern sun,
which has nothing to envy the colder northern one!
From the wide steps of the Gothic church with a sturdy door,
I raised those childish eyes and gazed at the beautiful facade,
and wondered what inspired the architect
to build such an immortal monument
so heavily damaged by the last earthquake,
but the Baianese people brought it to its previous splendor!
In my charming Campanian town without a stream,
there is a large square with oak trees on both sides,
and right in the middle the Fallen Soldiers' monument...
for the brave ones who went up north to fight the invaders;
and the blood they shed was for my freedom,
and these verses will be read by everyone in the land!
Neighbors and friends you have gotten older or passed away,
and all of you who are alive: lament with me its by-gone glory!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Diamonds can be of stunning glittering white,
I own one and it's a blue sapphire I admire;
it doesn't cost more than a Ferrari or a Rolex watch,
I bought it after drinking half bottle of scotch!
I wore it once at a black tie gala and I got noticed many times;
are diamonds, villas, cars, and watches the primary wishes
of wealthy men, but not of ordinary ones? Do they mean
a lot to them: when they lay lustful eyes are on gorgeous women?
I envy that guy filtering with an elegant high society lady,
she gives him all the attention of an Emir totally ignoring me;
hey, I'm wearing a blue sapphire I bought yesterday at Tiffany...
to get the attention of Lena winking at Paul, but avoiding me!
Do I deserve this expensive stone? Is it fit for my posh status?
I don't own yachts, or villas on the Amalfi Coast, I am not a guru!
I keep talking and showing it off, nobody cares even green-eyed Sue!
And angrier than an ignored clown, I turn greener than a cactus!
Holiday Paradise
is burning Rhodes is surrounded by invading fires and blue sea
no modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
The Med is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
we who do not travel watch the fire with awe
Further afield, people have too much water the drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber are matchboxes
For the rich to feel the heat, but does it make them kinder?
Of course, it has nothing to do with us, we who live in a place
where the breeze from the North Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
come, when Outer Mongolia is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
If not burned
Hellas is burning the Athens is surrounded by invading fires
no modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
Greece is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
it doesn’t concern us, should it?
Further afield, people have too much water the drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber are matchboxes
for the rich to feels the heat, but does it make them kinder.
Of course, it has nothing to do with us, we who live in a place
where the breeze from the north Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
Come when Afghanistan is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
the end safety
No modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
The Med is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
we who do not travel watch the fire with awe
Further afield, people have too much water and drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber as matchboxes
For the rich to feel the heat, does it make them kinder?
Of course, it has nothing to do with us who live
where the breeze from the North Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
come when Outer Mongolia is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
The oil of life
when one writes about minorities
no one wants to know, the next page is about knitting, please.
We do not like to read about losers
and our responsibility for their failure.
A tsunami came rolled over the landscape, changed it
and the language, unstoppable misery for the people
who lived there, but it brought us the automobile.
The Palestinians have lost most of their land and now
they are losing more, except their dignity.
We don´t want to know the next page about knitting, please.
Let us read about the super-rich and their yachts
and Rolls Royce, we like to see the pictures of them
in magazines, their villas and life mode-
we dislike the truth, and it demands us to sit up straight
and think about the world and the orangutan losing
their habitat to palm oil.
Is it Epson Salt?
All those nice villas along the coast are empty save for stray cats
and those too poor to live inland because the sea stinks like
bouillabaisse gone off. Marine life and sea plants have died out of too much
acidity caused by industry, and now it is too late to clean up the mess.
Fish in tanks are guarded and so expensive only the very rich can afford it,
say, bacalao; we have to eat fishcakes consisting of ninety-eight percent
mashed potatoes, and the rest is cod skin. Cod liver oil is the cure-all medicine,
it’s too expensive, and only the well-off can afford to buy it,
and they, the rich, live years longer than the poor.
This has raised concern and social unrest, politicians on the left,
insist the poor have the right to be given a teaspoon
of the healthy oil every morning;
Mind there is synthetic cod liver oil, but it tastes awful.
Seagulls and terns have adopted well have earth-hued feathers,
sit in carob trees, sharp-eyed keep an eye for scraps of food and
scare tiny tots with their inane pirate shrieks.
From a safe distance, when the wind is calm, and on moonlit nights,
the sea looks as beautiful as written in fairy tale books, by
a marine biologist.
Sanjay Karmakar
Hey hey! let's give fire to the palace, villas
hold the gunpowder to set to burn down the house, rouse
who are poor slum houses to keep hot, sought
to keep them warmth in winter, in dance & songs
yes we should set on the principle
hot.
Today let's we destroy their supremacy
overwhelmed in such a furor
destroy their palace down to dust; in way to set up equality
to sing the song of freedom in this morn
and to pass them towards extinction
we are the carrier of the bravery and the valor better
we must step on it today, we are arrogant
we will sing that song of humanity
if we have to pay our life too, no matter
The birds will sing in a sweet voice, peace will come to the nest.
hey pay attention, today we will kill the evil
come on to destroy the acts of evils in the country,
come on in a dress of an army
come on to sing the sweet melody, come on, come on.
Set the fire, set set set, come on be fierce to set the fire
come on united to destroy these flowers
those which, gives off its fragrance in the vapor of poison
and spreading the bad lesson
let's we done destroy these today,
come on.
Let's sing that song of peace filled with love
Joy Bangla in a loud voice, in this dawn
to make gold our nation.