When In Rome Poems - Poems about When In Rome

Walking to Rome On my way to Rome, I walked with a group of Jews who had left Israel because it had become a racist state The Jews were a group of young men and women on their way to Rome to seek an  audience with the Papa to ask him to take a stance against the orgy of brutality  against the Palestinians Their...

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l 'll sleep at his feet l 'll bathe in his water l'll choke in his heat forgetting it's daughter a pleasure boat calls a sight seeing tour Aeolian relax, they fear not the facts there's a crater above black but wont worry me l'll ignore all read facts and just swim in the sea so a sip of the wine and then l'll fine myth God Vulcan, Rome i'm...

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No pease porridge for me if you please neither hot nor cold especially not if what's in the pot is nine days old for when in Parma Palermo or Pisa (no pottage slop) I'm predisposed and have the propensity to pour a potent potable (pink plonk) and prefer to partake of a piece of pepperoni pizza with pancetta pomodoro peperoncini porcini plus a peck of pecorino...

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There once was an old Pope from Rome who had the Good Book a huge tome an altar ego and mass appeal so he made the Vatican home 2015 he addressed the environment on climate change caused by man and issued a Catholic Church encyclical the first-ever since Popes began let's trust instructing his cardinals to avoid any more scandals when pontificating and preaching to...

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Practicing hard at his yoga, Cato convolved with his toga. The news he was caught In this Gordian Knot Spread to the land of Busoga. ...

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Atop a bed of plastic In a house made of bone I am helpless to feel Rome’s revival Men become sheep and wolves Crusaders line up for war Careless toward their fellow heretic Houses burn Stone pillars rise from foundations All as the sands of time bury the path forward Yet even as they do, water still runs in the bath house...

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"And you, Brutus?" And then was Caesar dead. A moment's act and history's chapter done; A moment's thrust and Caesar's life was bled, And you the one that Caesar thought his son. But were you son of Rome, and that came first? Did Caesar die a hero, or a knave? Can justice spring from such a violent burst? Can sudden murder be...

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Well, Brutus was that sort of chap As whacked his old man in the Cap. The senators there, They’d stab or they’d stare, With all other business a wrap. ...

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English translations of Latin poems written by the ancient Roman poetess Sulpicia. I. At Last, Love! by Sulpicia translation by Michael R. Burch It's come at last! Love! The kind of love that, had it remained veiled, would have shamed me more than baring my naked soul. I appealed to Aphrodite in my poems and she delivered my beloved to me, placed him snugly,...

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I am Rome conquered, by my vices. Veiled with adorned armours of Caesar. But at nights is haunted with Caesar’s spirit, Which yells ‘There is no such place wherein your solace resides, no one who looks at you with pride.’ I am Brutus advised, by my kins to stab Caesar, But still in my sorrow I tend to drown deeper, With...

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"Their cross will decay Rome will be as a phoenix Helios will reign supreme" "The sun always sets Accept the eagle’s old age Find dominion in your mind" ...

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I only remembered it for a minute second Some dream bound for the black hole. A minuscule moment it was Slipping into the fabric of no dimension. The actor forgetting their single stage moment In the shortest act created for the oblivion. Recording under my attentive fatigue: Running! In a state of dead weight Away from the fictitious villains of terror Scurrying up...

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CATULLUS TRANSLATIONS 3 Catullus VII: 'How Many Kisses' loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch You ask, Lesbia, how many kisses are enough, or more than enough, to satisfy me? As many as the Libyan sands swirling in incense-bearing Cyrene between the torrid oracle of Jove and the sacred tomb of Battiades. Or as many as the stars observing amorous men making love furtively on a...

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CATULLUS TRANSLATIONS Catullus LXXXV: 'Odi et Amo' loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch 1. I hate. I love. You ask, 'Why not refrain?' I wish I could explain. I can't, but feel the pain. 2. I hate. I love. Why? Heavens above! I wish I could explain. I can't, but feel the pain. 3. I hate. I love. How can that be, turtledove? I wish I could explain. I can't, but feel...

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Embracing the countryside Made some ecstatic and glee But one feature in particular Was that old coniferous tree ‘Conifer,’ a Latin word Means one that bears a cone But did Nero study the outdoors When he was in charge of Rome? One Emperor’s word against another The other, Mother Nature A lovely scene along the hills Was better than portraiture The gentle...

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