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Karisa Brown Oct 2019
Once you found Rome you don't leave!
ranveer joshua Oct 2019
my dreams and aspirations
cannot be confined to this textbook
for it can’t teach me how to
walk the cobblestoned streets of stockholm,
surf the waters of bondi beach,
ride the canals of amsterdam,
nor hike the city of cinque terre.

but here i am, not knowing what the future holds in store for me,
just waiting for the time to come
of which i can experience
the joy that is to travel.
City of eternal wonders
An empire built,
fallen, re-animated
alive and never broken.
There lay ruins
old and modern,
monuments of marble
stumbled on by hoofs
and carriages shrieking
on the cobbled streets
poisoned by uncultured
tourists.
But in the little streets
lay a calm
silence not many
can hear.
The beauty is underneath
hidden, not all will see.
It's heart keeps beating:
like fine wine,
it improves with time.
andY Oct 2019
we walked to the market
and debated tomatoes
had time on our hands
met grandmas like angels

shared a slice of margarita
on the bench back to the site
can’t find the right words now
but girl that felt right

maybe this trip
mile after mile
will stand as the last
one of our highs
Chris Saitta Jun 2019
Sicily is the golden caesura of history,
Where the human poem is paused to hear
The exalted precipice of its own sigh.
Chris Saitta May 2019
The dead lie like Rome,
Like toppled sunshine in stone,
From a boy who had blown
Into the seashell of the Forum,
Heard back in restoning, the alley of home,
The narrow, basket-flowered angiportum…
But, lips too strong, let out unknown
The stone-witherings of Medusa
And the bone dust of empire.
Chris Saitta May 2019
Venezia, its musical key of brick and shade
And the canals in rejoining polyphony
Sweeten the dour Church-ear.  
From the impasto knife and loose brushwork,
A thumb-smear of waves and gently-bristled strife
Rise to assumption of the cloud-submerged bay,
Mural of cristallo, only-light without landscape,
Made too from the winds of Murano,
Its clayed blowpipe of waterways molding
The lagoon of blown glass and bouquet of colored sea-shadows.

The Tiber lies on its side, like the lion and fox,
Licking its paws at empire’s dust,
A drifting gaze of water that already foresees
The swift-run northward to Romagna,
Where the veined fur of the roe will succumb…
A ripple twitches like one dark claw of the Borgia…

The watercolors of the Arno are a fresco
On the wet plaster of the lips of Firenze, Tuscan fire-dream.
Or like the warring leg in curve of counterpoise,
Sprung foot-forward to the daring world
And arm slung down in stone-victory
From this valley, too much like Elah,
With taunting eyes turned from the Medici toward Rome.
Titian revolutionized the style of painting that contained no landscape in his "Assumption of the ******" (circa 1515)
"cristallo" is actually a term that means clear glass, or glass without impurities, and was invented around the time of the Renaissance.
"the lion and fox" was a nickname for Cesare Borgia.
"Romagna" was his intended conquest.
"Elah" was the valley where the Israelites camped when David defeated Goliath
Chris Saitta May 2019
The earth-dark octaves of her singing hair,
Sung-circles of campagna, the citadel,
And campanile bells in the Segestano air.
The pail sits like an expectant kiss on the lip of the well.
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