~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winter arrived with frostbite flair,
A blizzard here, a sniffle there.
I checked the forecast—what a fright!
clicked CTRL + ALT + DELETE in spite
Snowflakes vanished mid-descent.
Icicles? Gone—no argument.
The polar winds? Just hit Command-Z,
And poof! They fled to Sicily.
My wish would be to visit Italy,
where my grandparents were with family.
One came from Florence, one from Sicily,
before my Mom and I were born to be.
I'd love to find out how their lives began-
those years in Italy before their plan
to board the ship- a woman and a man-
embrace the USA, their future span.
From tales they told me, Italy was home
to lovely gardens, winding hills to roam,
and special wonders, such as that in Rome,
with the Basilica's expansive dome.
To feel the rhythm of the countryside
and taste delicious entrees, well supplied;
confirm the recipes I've used stateside-
and the traditions learned and passed with pride.
I have these visions that live in my mind.
Someday, I hope, the real scenes to find.
To see the earthly resentment
Of Ireland
In her American
Per chase of the heart
Down to lent
Repent in sayings before
Ashed inscription
Told
Without reply she walks in a sun
Fide et Amore, Italia
Aetheistic concealed brevity
Reluctant canvas of poetry
Projection of a middle path
Project re deck
Stacks end racks
Build out change
Sisters of in mate position
Split same lunch run ons
In a report published by Air Mail, multiple women accused the 53-year-old star of Fight Club, Requiem For A Dream, Dallas Buyers Club and Suicide Squad of inappropriate behaviour.
Use of force is unstoppable when?
Whence?
Confined parameter of work space exists where?
Justice is will
Justice is and is not blind
Dialogue in Retraction as Retreat, A Study as Space
Are you a registered or speculation of lobbying
This is typified by Sicily in
Testa Di Moro
Sicilian Myths and Folklore videos are a salvo
Jenna, This is How You Remind Me
Peering true
Vanities Spite
Italian actress Claudia Cardinale
Peer into eyes as chant
Recant my verse
Impotent mascaras eye, lining your defeat
Instead of hours own
We see in the country, in Portsall,
things that you don’t see in the city,
A pastry chef who smiles kindly,
A farmer who parks his tractor on the side,
We see polite people like Belgians,
People listening to the bees work,
Trees are seen learning to count,
Churches that ring the morning hours,
We see beautiful things in the country,
Things that you don’t see in the city,
People saying hello to you at the bakery,
People watching the snails think,
You see people looking at you like birds,
Writers wearing pink hats,
Who drank tequila with their chicken breast,
Houses where people will be nice,
We see in the country, on the side of Portsall
Things that you don’t see in the city,
The city often I fear, makes people evil,
We see large houses painted pink or yellow
Which make you think of Sicily or Tuscany.
To go to Palermo,
I should take the train,
It seems to me, Miss
It won’t take as long with you.
With you miss
It would be shorter,
I would see the beautiful Sicily,
See it, under the flowers of your smiles.
To go to Palermo,
We must not have worries,
That’s why, Miss,
That I will surely kiss you
Like a gentle olive.
Pour aller à Palerme,
Il me faut prendre le train,
Il me semble mademoiselle
Qu'avec vous, ce sera moins long.
Avec vous mademoiselle
Ce serait moins long,
Je verrais la belle Sicile
Sous les fleurs de vos sourires.
Pour aller à Palerme,
Il ne faut pas avoir de soucis,
C'est pour ça mademoiselle
Que je vous embrasserai
Comme une gentille olive.
How do I
To breathe?
To see the shooting stars?
To eat the pineapple
On my pizza?
How do I
To write to mom,
To sleep
In Chicago?
To drive a Ferrari?
How do I
To love Montaigne?
How about scallops?
To travel to Sicily?
How do I
Without you, huh?
To think?
To believe in tomorrow?
To make my poem heard
Beyond the mountains, huh?
How do I
Without you
To write my poem?
Come, my shooting star,
Open my door,
As the night is so long in your absence,
Come, my sweet dove,
Open my poem,
As my verses are so sad, in your absence,
Come, my silk angel,
Spread your wings,
To take me to the sky of Sicily tomorrow,
Come, my zither, come,
Open your music,
The one, the only one, that makes my heart vibrate
I’ve never been to Sicily, and yet
it’s always felt a part of me. Who knows?
Another life, another alphabet?
Alongside Archimedes, jotting prose
in Agrigentum I, with each vignette,
imbibing wine, as bitter as regret,
harangued the hellene farmers, stoning crows.
That Greek me – did I tend (as now) to get
frustrated when my verse was ‘on the nose’,
all too transparently in Homer’s debt?
But Italy’s a credible coquette,
more winning in her ways than we suppose.
Like Rhapsody in Blue’s smooth clarinet,
she captures us. We victims, in love’s throes,
admire her steely claws, as black as jet.
Written October 11, 2022
I can tell you of the most infamous thing that happened to me.
It occurred while I was hiding in Sicily.
For persons I should trust, there is always room for doubt.
If offered enough money, that can sell me out.
I loved Apolllonia very much. She was a wonderful wife.
My bodyguard planted a bomb in our car that took her life.
This happened shortly after the death of my brother Santino.
Informers traced the whereabouts of that culprit named Fabrizio.
It was discovered that Fabrizio quickly emigrated away.
He was now dwelling in Brooklyn here in the U.S.A.
I want someone very good to plant a bomb in his car.
When he turns the ignition key, he will not go far.
Based on the novel "The Godfather" by the late Mario Puzo
Just another African
Once full of sun and hope
Train to Venice from Milan
At the end of your rope
Horrors seen at just 19
Crammed onto a flatbed
Desert burning red
Human carrion in the sand
Oblivion near at hand
Beatings, rapes in Tripoli
Leaky tub on a rough sea
Peril all the way to Sicily
Papers - “political refugee”
Even so, two years of no, no no
Pain inspires disdain
Contempt and disgust
When migrants are discussed
No “ciao”, nothing so banal
Distracts from the icy canal
“Go home” they thunder
And film you go under
No Good Samaritan
For just another African
Wise man,
A wise man surely you are, well maybe.
Wise man, you are so funny and comical even though you have no big red noise or floppy hat.
Wise man you are blind knowing all supposedly but knowing almost nothing indeed.
Wise man, wise man oh how can this be since you have had all the world's great learning?
You've been to Rome and Sicily all nine of its great provinces.
Wise man, how can it be you are still not much wiser than me?
Wise man, come and learn the stories of old, the stories passed down by the elders for you and me.
The elders have much to tell if you dare to listen you can have the great knowledge you seek.
Wise man, how can it be that you are no wiser than me?
Wise man, I will listen to the things the elders say.
Learning and listening to them I will become a wise woman someday.
Wise man, please take my hand and we will go and learn what only the Godly wise men have known and learn great wisdom.
God Help Trump Do Things Right
Hope God helps Trump do things right,
So we always smile with much delight;
Sun or shade,
Needs our aid,
And will pray to God with all our might.
It sure is hard to support someone
who you extremely disagree with.
He lacks having any legislative or
government experience. He has
continually fired those who he
does disagree with. Firing
Captain who was trying
to protect personnel
is prime example.
Jim Horn
PS. He and his family and staff
lack having military background.
Jim Horn
Retired Veteran whose father
was killed on Active duty in
the Navy on Carrier Intrepid.
He is buried in 200 feet of
water off the island of Sicily.
Grand father was a Spanish
American War Veteran in
Army. Father in law was a
WW II Army Veteran. His dad
was a WW I army veteran. I
graduated from college while
utilizing GI Bill up to a Master's
degree. This should give me
the privilege to criticize someone
who has no military experience
at all. Oh, and also had a Top
Secret Security Clearance. I
never had any bone spurs
and received a waiver before.
in a café
in a city
of a country
who knows which
one she has picked
never seen
never been
but longing
to belong to what
she already belongs
linguistically
mixed up silly
Spanish
in Sicily
laughing
otra
to altro
but
vino
stays the same
vida
and vita
so close
for a toast
drink more
so that
cheers
becomes
from salud
to cin cin
drunken
slurs
of
gracias
to grazie
Sour Grapes
Their third trip now...again to Italy;
first two by air that landed into Rome.
They're on a cruise ship now near Sicily...
it seems they're always out and never home.
We were invited once to come along;
thank goodness that for us it could not be.
Between our work and cost, it would be wrong
to satisfy ourselves so stupidly!
How boring being stuck on a cruise ship...
all one can do is watch the sky and sea!
Exploring foreign lands...well, this we'll skip;
the people will be snobs, we guarantee!
We'll just vacation in our cozy yard...
when they return, their tales we'll disregard.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Sour Grapes
Sponsor: Mark Massey
Judged: 09/11/2018
(Fiction for Contest)
Sub Categories
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