Nine Cities Of Six Lines

New York is ultimate but too old a memory to know
San Fran in Fall which is there summer
Prague, Paris and London see first across the sea
Berlin for a once divided world
Venice to debunk the hype
Casablanca - Fez when you've seen the rest.

poem by Bill Grace
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Epistle To Mr. Murray

My dear Mr. Murray,
You're in a damn 'd hurry,
To set up this ultimate Canto;
But (if they don't rob us)
You'll see Mr. Hobhouse
Will bring it safe in his portmanteau.

For the Journal you hint of,
As ready to print off,
No doubt you do right to commend it;
But as yet I have writ off
The devil a bit of
Our 'Beppo:'--when copied, I'll send it.

Then you've Sotheby's Tour,--
No great things, to be sure­,--
You could hardly begin with a less work;
For the pompous rascallion,
Who don't speak Italian
Nor French, must have scribbled by guess work.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Multiple Choice II: American Literature

please choose one only: Ezra Pound

1) popularized 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother' during the sixties

2) was a famous scofflaw who collected over 500 parking tickets

3) was the first American to visit Venice

4) had a blistering affair with Isabella Stewart Gardiner

5) all of the above

poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Vale` - Egypt's Might is Tumbled Down

Egypt's might is tumbled down
Down a-down the deeps of though;
Greece is fallen and Troy town,
Glorious Rome hath lost her crown,
Venice' pride is nought.

But the dreams their children dreamed
Fleeting, unsubstantial, vain,
Shadowy as the shadows seemed,
Airy nothing, as they deemed,
These remain.

poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Your Bridge Of Love

The bridge,
Your bridge of love;
We salute you oh kings of Africa! !
The bridge,
Your bridge of love;
We salute you oh queens of Africa! !
And like an Island in Venice;
Nice, price, vice, mice, rice, ice, dice, lice, slice;
But very tantalizing and very vital to ylour heart!
For, this bridge of love is over your house.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Second Madrigal

A night of love
exquisite as a
concert from old Venice
played on exquisite instruments.
Healthy as a
buttock of a little angel.
Wise as an
anthill.
Garish as air
blown into a trumpet.
Abundant as the reign
of a royal Negro couple
seated on two thrones
cast in gold.

A night of love with you,
a big baroque battle
and two victories.

poem by Anna Swirszczynska
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Titian

Would that such hills and cities round us sang,
Such vistas of the actual earth and man
As kindled Titian when his life began;
Would that this latter Greek could put his gold,
Wisdom and splendor in our brushes bold
Till Greece and Venice, children of the sun,
Become our every-day, and we aspire
To colors fairer far, and glories higher.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The winning move.

Life is not a Tempest
Nor a Mid Summer Night's Dream.
It is not A Winter's Tale
Nor a drama to play As You Like It.

All's Well that Ends Well,
Life is a Comedy of Errors.
We have Great Expectations
We do dream of Paradise Regained.

We move our pieces Measure for Measure.
Alas! In the process Love's Labour's Lost.
We eat the Grapes of Wrath
And life seems to be War and Peace.

Sitting Under the Greenwood Tree
It is all An Enchanted Kiss
It is all A Tempered Wind,
And we forget The Elegy Written in a country church-yard.

[...] Read more

poem by Ravi Panamanna
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sense of Accomplishment

Thank you!
As long as readers like yourself,
Discover that I don't make sense...
At least 'something' has been achieved!
That leaves me feeling a sense of accomplishment.
And I express my gratitude to anyone,
Who finds the time to acknowledge that point!

Inspired by:
The Venice Poet

'Talent desiring to remain incognito,
is factitiousness wasted! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Alla Dogana

Night, and the silence of the night,
In Venice; far away, a song;
As if the lyric water made
Itself a serenade;
As if the water's silence were a song
Sent up into the night.

Night, a more perfect day,
A day of shadows luminous,
Water and sky at one, at one with us;
As if the very peace of night,
The older peace than heaven or light,
Came down into the day.

poem by Arthur Symons
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Alle Zattere

Only to live, only to be
In Venice, is enough for me.
To be a beggar, and to lie
At home beneath the equal sky,
To feel the sun, to drink the night,
Had been enough for my delight;
Happy because the sun allowed
The luxury of being proud
Not to some only; but to all
The right to lie along the wall.
Here my ambition dies; I ask
No more than some half-idle task,
To be done idly, and to fill
Some gaps of leisure when I will.
I care not if the world forget
That it was ever in my debt;
I care not where its prizes fall;
I long for nothing, having all.
The sun each morning, on his way,
Calls for me at the Zattere;

[...] Read more

poem by Arthur Symons
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Human Face

upon his face
the smile floats like
a gondola
on the River of
Venice

one can hear the
song of the
gondolier

the eyes of his face
are windows
opening because the
songs are
tempting

they are the eyes of
women
looking for love

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Toreador

Pepita queen of Venice
When you go beneath your shutter
All gondoliers call out:
Watch out--Toreador!
No one rules your heart
In the grand palace where you sleep
And near you the old duenna lies in waiting
for the Toreador.
Toreador, bravest of the brave
When in Piazza San Marco
The wild, slobbering bull
Falls slain by your blade
It is not pride that caresses
Your heart beneath your golden cape
It is for a young goddess
That your passion burns, toreador.

(refrain)

Lovely Spanish girl

[...] Read more

poem by Jean Cocteau
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Old Women Of The Water Village

i

they are singing
paddling the boats that we are riding
following the path of a river
that shows us
old houses made of stones

we pass the bridge
where once the famous
Chinese painter
brushed
water colors for the
emperor

ii

for a fee

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

1777

I

The Trumpet-Vine Arbour

The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open,
And the clangour of brass beats against the hot sunlight.
They bray and blare at the burning sky.
Red! Red! Coarse notes of red,
Trumpeted at the blue sky.
In long streaks of sound, molten metal,
The vine declares itself.
Clang! -- from its red and yellow trumpets.
Clang! -- from its long, nasal trumpets,
Splitting the sunlight into ribbons, tattered and shot with noise.

I sit in the cool arbour, in a green-and-gold twilight.
It is very still, for I cannot hear the trumpets,
I only know that they are red and open,
And that the sun above the arbour shakes with heat.
My quill is newly mended,

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Venice Queen

Does it go from east to west
Body free and a body less
Come again just to start a fresh
Once again to find a home
In the moment of the meantime

Dropping in coming through the mesh
Checking in just to get it blessed
Hard to leave when it's picturesque
Find a form that's free the roam
Where you coming from
Where you going

Do it all then it all again
Make it up and you make a friend
Paddle on just around the bend
Find a place where you can see
All the mamas and the papas

Take a chance on a recommend

[...] Read more

song performed by Red Hot Chili Peppers from By The Way
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Pigmy seraphs—gone astray

138

Pigmy seraphs—gone astray—
Velvet people from Vevay—
Balles from some lost summer day—
Bees exclusive Coterie—
Paris could not lay the fold
Belted down with Emerald—
Venice could not show a check
Of a tint so lustrous meek—
Never such an Ambuscade
As of briar and leaf displayed
For my little damask maid—

I had rather wear her grace
Than an Earl's distinguished face—
I had rather dwell like her
Than be "Duke of Exeter"—
Royalty enough for me
To subdue the Bumblebee.

poem by Emily Dickinson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

It Only Takes One To Do An 'Iago

Undermining has always been a trait,
Of those envious of others' deeds.
Conflicts have initiated over images raised.
Only to be replaced,
By mediocre initiatives.
And one with a taste to victimize with venom

It only takes one to do an 'Iago'.
You know
Othello's foe?
That legendary Moor,
In the military service of Venice.
Married to Desdemona,
And
The subject and tragic figure of Shakespeare's play.

That's all it takes!
An Iago who fakes a loyalty.
But has traitor on the mind,
And equipped to do it with lips.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

It Seemes That Tunis Is An Auncient Towne

It seemes that Tunis is an auncient towne
Neere to the ruines of Carthage once so prowde,
Whose stately buildings now are cleane pulled downe,
And calmde her bruit, that sounded sometime lowde:
But roome, that is their auncient far away
Doth holde, and shall, though cities all decay.

Roome is more large, then spacious Millaine faire,
Or Venice or the Tartars great Camball,
Boeams three Prages, or Egypts rich Alcaire,
Or Quinset in Cataie biggest of them all,
And more I say, after the day of doome
Hell shall be no where, vnles it be in roome.

poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The You In My Stories

I wish I could bury my insanity in me,
and myself in your embrace,
as the lost men did with the sea.
I wish the siren would sing for me,
as she did for those before,
before the two of us met, on each other's lips,
behind the sun, and the people.
I bought you my heart, from the Merchant of Venice
but it was only the illusion of it,
as it was a stone more than a heart.
In your stories, you are as people see you
but in my stories, the sun gives you his crown
and god worships you, more than you worship him.
I'm rambling again,
but it's true.

poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!