Short Amsterdam Poems

Tulips sway by wood,
Take a puff of the new day,
Where is the coffee?...

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Amsterdam 's Jan van Hysum
very prolific & 'some'
Ornamental bouquet scenes
still life blues& greens...

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Amsterdam.
Calm, gentle.
Cycling, boating, walking.
Tulips, cobbles, bakeries, fresh air. 
Eating, drinking, sight-seeing.
Modern, historic.
Holiday....

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A poem presses page
	To pot I rant and rave
To Amsterdam sizzle
	Smoke hash in the drizzle
It’s no small task
	Just bitter-less tact
In driving my bees
	To insanity please...

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A young gay lad in old Amsterdam
Found himself entangled in a jam
Arrested in a pub
Near a genteel club
He thought himself something of a ham. 

Written November 9, 2022...

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In a new place in old clothes
along winding canals,
you are twenty again, in Amsterdam

with sunshine hair and spirit
still cocksure.  Not steering
this dark ship through

Friday, being the one night
you should never....

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"in the Marais"


there once was a man from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
who preferred Picasso's over those of Van Gogh
so he didn't give a damn
about Amsterdam
but would rather be in Paris sipping Bordeaux...

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Phyllis Upman was a young maid
When she learnt the rules of her trade:
Show men what they want
Behave nonchalant
And be sure to pull down the shade! 

n.b.  Window shopping in 
Amsterdam is a more popular
tourist attraction than tulips ...

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Right out side the coffee shop,
   Below St. Peter's hands
      The purveyors of indulgences
   Have set up little stands

And should some half-waked baker
   Come and stir about the pot
       The double-arched McDiocese
   Would (likely) thank me not....

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Amsterdam vibrant with
Bells of red trams and blue bikes
Canals sparkling night lights 
Delft facades rising tall and slim in misty air
Energy of never sleeping coffeeshops of laissez-faire life 


First Place Winner: Sara Kendrick-Let's Do Some Alphabet/1010/17...

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you always had a way with words
like Amsterdam
whose running rhymes
of bicycles and harpsichords
and bridges over canals caused
us both to steer each other's hold
to mouths whose distance
was decreasing, 
slowly through museum pieces
though I always hoped to linger
nestled inside yours...

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a moonlit stroll - -
ladies in underwear
wave from windows

tea in a  café  - -
the smell of coffee and
marijuana 

tourists yawn - -
customs men search a coach 
from Amsterdam

written 21st April for Elly’s contest

wish I'd been permitted to write about the beautiful tulips, windmills and cheese, LOL...

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Sheltered beneath her veil of tears,
Amsterdam calls to my heart.
She follows me
through golden dreams and opiate sleep
to tempt me away from the true path in.
She is the wind on the water
filling my sails
with a quiver as soft as a sigh.
For no words
were ever quite so breathless
as Dutch whispers at midnight....

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Afternoon in Amsterdam 
 
I was looking at the little man 
He was a long way away 
Dim in my perception 
Of Amsterdam time 
Turning the wheel 
For a song 
Played magnificently 
From 
The bright red street organ 
He was turning the wheel 
The time wheel of Prakash 
And 
Organizing all of the stars 
Crank 
Turn 
Crank...

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Walking past a "coffee shop,"
The weed comes wafting out.
Though once I would have thus indulged,
Today I'll do without.

Somehow that's been tucked away,
A relic of my past,
Like youth and risks and craziness - 
It wasn't meant to last.

But how that smell just brings it back!
With every single whiff
I'm tempted just to take a toke,
But I'll stick to a sniff....

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REMEMBER ME
NOVEMBER IN AMSTERDAM

This must be 
where fallen leaves 
come to settle.

The two of us, not quite 
in our dotage yet, feel at home, 
anchored in such an autumn.

Submerge my heart in one of these dykes 
when I'm gone.

Ashes, you see, need the clutches 
of still brown waters 	
to escape being scattered to the winds....

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Then came Trump 

No one talks about Syria anymore, 
 Was there a war there?
The bombing of Mosul the long siege
Trump occupies the news 
And the whole world from pigmies
In the inner Congo, to the tall Dutch
In Amsterdam, are Psychanalysts? 
The press robbed of their pompous 
Self-regard like a school yard bully
Scolded, plots shocking stories about
The President of the USA...

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I languish 
in the company 
of minstrels
weeping of willows 
setback from verges 
pastures
on cold days
and May days
and those days 
that hide me
under low clouds
and awnings 
above which 
the birds sit
and chirp out 
their classics
in song 
but then my song 
is low key
as shoes pass 
abruptly
like no-one
no faces attached 
imposters in breezes
but like Amsterdam
there's always the bridges...

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International Women's Day

Now being a woman, I don't get it,
When large breasts are floated in
Amsterdam today!
Looking like overgrown onions,
To celebrate Women's Day!

Is that all we are? Really how silly!
If only there were an International
Men's day!
And rivers filled with floating willies!
One could make millions charging for
"Ride the Willy"...

From the Book:
I Float, Hear me Roar!
By: Panagiota Romios
3/8/2019...

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Why does Amsterdam taste like chocolate chips?
Dance parties with friends make me laugh.
Who said that rhythms weren't a part of work?
I listen to songs more than half
Of my life, I wonder who stole the moon.
Can anyone put it back?
I found a sun in the school's boiler room.
I warm my face in a crack
In the concrete, there's a big old weed.
Prickly spines to clasp.
Who threw these gloves in my general direction?
I've got life to grasp....

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Man
old
in wheelchair
with a number tatooed
across the back of his hand.

Three rows of numbers.
Were you there?
Germany?
Amsterdam?
His head is bowed into
hand/arm resting on the chair.

Bowed head
sparse white of hair
were you there?
Holocaust man reading.
In boots now he is
the lumber man,
or cowboy man ...
were you there?

Old velcro tennis
shoe men
in the optometry clinic
waiting for glasses
while they
read
pictures....

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Strong blocks of color
display the brazened buildings
by the peaceful canal,
where yellow brushstrokes 
illustrate their tranquil reflections.

Dark flecks of paint grace the bridge,
depicting blurred images of people
on a quiet romantic eve.

While the centered spire kisses
the ardent Amsterdam sky. 
As a glorious Holland day, 
comes to a beautiful close.

__________________________
Inspired by Claude Monet’s 
Zuiderkerk at Amsterdam (1872)...

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New Year's Eve in the town Amsterdam
Two Brits I met while staring at the pond
Holding beers and smoking rolled cigarettes 
Speaking they said tonight you will be a man 
This eve you will recall with a fond bond 
And on we walked, drank, smoke, effortless 
The Red-Light district we stumbled upon
My body tightened but the face I donned
Let three workers see me as generous
Farewell to my innocence, it was gone 
The Brits disappeared, I am Shepard-less...

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One time on an Amsterdam trip
We decided to watch ladies strip
Some were pinky and peached
But this Scotsman couldn't reach
Oh my, I must be losing my grip

So I sat back and watched it all
Their clothes shed as my eyes befall
Undulations of delight
On this Amsterdam night
This Highlander left in thrall

To Scotland we head back the next day
Ogled eyes have now had their say
Many memories so pert
But boy were we alert
The credit card we now have to pay...

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One fine day Abraham  
Wanted to send a candygram
All the way to Amsterdam
Sweets ad nauseam     
Weighed by kilogram
All he could cram
In a huge box stamped with a monogram

This is the price said Ma’am
What’s wrong need a diagram
Abraham was in a jam
Had no cash felt like a ham
Meeker than a lamb  
Thought he better scram 
Postpone the candygram

Bad credit is debit card’s anagram



AP:Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on March 3, 2018...

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