The sun on this September afternoon
is not quite what it might have been in June,
but hot enough. My barman’s chatting on,
while somewhere, some lopsided carillon
is clanging tunelessly. I’m in the square
of San Francesco in Arezzo, where
I’ve longed to be for years. Rome’s far behind
(in fact it’s hard to summon Rome to mind,
albeit I was there not long ago.)
Tranquillity! I almost feel as though
I’ve plunged in freezing water. And the sight
of fiesta flags, inflamed by evening light
can make the heart start pumping. It’s too late
(for me) to learn to free-associate,
but what feels right, is right. I’m in a groove,
and who can say if I will ever move
from this precise position? Favourite pen,
a fine coarse notebook and “remember when” …
can life improve on this? When things combine,
we feel we’ve touched the hem of The Divine:
perhaps I’m heading for a nuclear fall,
but sunlight slanting on that craggy wall
is just as good as (better than, perhaps)
a coffee in that place from “Google Maps”.
Until I found Palazzo Guillichini
Gregorio, life’s classic “in-betweeny”
was lost to me: but I, “traquer le lièvre”,
can get the story from the cause célèbre.
Categories:
palazzo, future, remember,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Palazzo Strozzi near the Duomo is empty now,
The tourists having sought more grand amusements;
Perpetual restlessness the most common souvenir
They’ll be bringing home from vacation.
Giotto’s Campanile seemed manly from the outside,
Its shoulders squared against the distant mountains,
But its winding stairs betrayed an inner sadness,
That worried my intent to see the skyline.
The streets of Florence fairly simmer in the sunset.
I crossed the Ponte Vecchio to get across the Arno.
Three happy Italians splashing barefoot in the fountain
Remind me I’m a long, long way from home.
Categories:
palazzo, travel,
Form: Blank verse
I never bounced like freak
Never go up through trick
To complete poetic palazzo
I am the last completion brick
My tongue never gives anyone
Neither gook nor any prick
My verses fit to everyone's story
Everybody wants my poetry click
Imran is a name of humble
He never prouds on rhetoric
Categories:
palazzo, boy, life, lost, love
Form: Rhyme
Stepping out on a July afternoon,
hand up on forehead, squinting in the glare,
flick out the Ray-Bans, eyes become attuned,
descend the steps and stride across the square.
The amber lenses paint a different scene,
Palazzo Bernabei glows warmer hues,
the vines that cling to walls a richer green
bouquets of gift stall sun hats, whites and blues.
These glasses worn to help protect my eyes,
though welcome, sunshine brings with it white noise,
give added richness, deeper summer skies
to scenes on darker days no-one enjoys.
If my life wore some filters such as these
maybe I'd find more colour, joy, more peace.
For contest 'Sunshine Sonnet', sponsor John Hamilton
March 18th 2018
Categories:
palazzo, sunshine,
Form: Sonnet
She floats among palazzo halls
in teal brocade of lambent silk
procured for ladies of her ilk
while sepia of gloaming falls.
Candescence rises in her skin;
awakened is her heart within
to hear her lover's twilit calls.
She twirls and plucks a biding rose:
He Loves Me, comes the whispered prose.
The timbre of his voice enthralls,
the tickling whim of evening breeze
that waltzes through her mind's reprise.
As deeper into love she falls
the halos 'round the candles rise
to beg the lucence of his eyes.
She floats among palazzo halls
when sepia of gloaming falls
to hear her lover's twilit calls.
The timbre of his voice enthralls
as deeper into love she falls.
Categories:
palazzo, imagery, longing, love,
Form: Rhyme
The depression,
in purple moon,
scattering black magic.
The eatery, I ask, why were
you hungry ?
The singsong tea pot smiles.
The theme of mist
valley, incites the palazzo;
and the riots begin.
A dark silhouette, looms-
against the falling star,
I start picking up the debris.
On the fringe of
economic boom, I put my
hands in the wronged shirt.
Satish Verma
Categories:
palazzo, art,
Form: ABC
Nothing short of God-like
The dancing mad jester of the Empire
Cunning, swift, adept
Hallowed be thy name; Kefka Palazzo
A laugh echoes throughout space
Tearing through the golden heavens
Razing the world bare
May the Light of Judgment guide you
What purpose does war serve?
Separate the leaders; separate the statues
Turning a world of balance into one of ruin
And leaving the world hopeless
Sacrificing humanity for power
The dancing mad ruler of the heavens
Hallowed be thy name
Kefka Palazzo
Categories:
palazzo, fantasy, people, world,
Form: Free verse