Tuscany Poems - Poems about Tuscany

Within his moment, I wouldn't change a thing, my life right now is earnt, I got here on my own merit, proud of all the things I've learnt. Oh but that thought of what if, what an offer! If I could have one more life, I'd live in a quaint cottage in Tuscany or France. Morning ritual of fresh brewed tea...

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Oscans, Ligures and the Apuli as known Ancient Greek, Samnitics, Sicanis and Celt Indigenous tribes, one people with love grown Capodanno Fiorentino o'er lands dwelt Wine appellation of Sangiovese as shown Wreaths and lanterns over folklores shine not welt Carrara marbles as buttress of stronghold With arts and culture, graced with norms of the bold...

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It was perfect, a room with a cute view. I opened the window, oh how birds flew. Tuscany's vast landscape, everything new. It mattered not, we paid promptly our due. The Renaissance culture was born right here. Miles of vineyards grew on a hillside near, Verdant fields grew in a tier upon tier, While oak and cypress purify the air. Below the fragrance...

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Cedars line ancient Tuscan roads. Vines reach distant hills. Bent couple slowly walks. Hills pose no barrier. Pear lovingly peeled. Cheese and figs unwrapped. Wine poured. Words unspoken. Time stopped. Sixty seven years....

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The cypress trees stand sentinel, Protecting all the vines So all who visit Tuscany Can drink those lovely wines. A walled-in city dating back For seven hundred years Holds ancient secrets filled with life's Exuberance and tears. We stroll the streets and marvel at The remnants that survive, Imagining inhabitants Once vibrant and alive. We gaze out at the scenery, So lush and manicured, With cypress trees on...

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Glory be to God for dappled things! Look, Mina, where the wanton wind is chasing the cloud shadows across the dale! They skip like hares! Throw open both doors, front and back - abandon care! Let that breeze, with scent of thyme on its breath, scour out the must and dust of cramped, crabby, clammed-up...

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Sunflowers turn slowly to follow the sun. They bow their heavy heads when afternoon’s done. What a golden vision they share row after row With deep amber faces, their tiny seeds all aglow. The summer breezes blowing o’er the fields with warm air Shares pride in a country with its beauty so fair. I smile in contentment as I l leave...

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radiant purple gospel red with bold yellow tulips reach for the sweet sunlight picture frames of beauty adorn the grassy hills of Tuscany and what ever becomes of this magic love parade are the fancy white and fragile yellow daffodils if we make our presence in this world a tapestry through the bright hills of Tuscany...

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The afternoon outlined. The sunny strokes of a samurai blade on her body revealing things the eyes feign see. Tempted, wounded, the virgin parchment floats between her skin and satin cloak. Artist; afternoon, craving company draws her inside-out so innocently, on purpose leaves the yolk indwelling. The painter in the corner moans, he jealous of the afternoons artly sensual oration. Improving skin, bare olive tones of subtle...

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I can’t help but think about The way things used to be Those carefree days of childhood By the river of Tuscany Children caressed By the island’s sun Frenzied by its crystal shore Totally unaware Of the danger that was before The storm came suddenly The merry bunch dispatch All but Johnny Who was submerged By the hungry waves of Tuscany....

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Geraniums with brilliant colors like sunset, sway under cypress trees of the scented hills, as April winds invite the anxious lovers not to engage in words; yet silence allows their romance... Daisies of bright yellow, as that they were painted on canvas by young and vibrant Giotto, who constantly pursued true perfection in his unique style; a shepherd boy he was: soon to be worldly famous as one...

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