Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
David Beltran Feb 27
I found myself aboard a midnight train,
I left Salerno for Milan
listening to Her for Five Minutes,
Simon used to sing this song.
Come si chaima?
She asked as a drug's side effect,
Soft grin and all she may not have spoken French, Spanish,
nor English but music is the universal language after all.

Love in retrospect like a butterfly effect,
Sua, Cinque Minuti.
a quiet smile,
between laughter and silence
filled her face.
She came from Verona, to visit family,
I came to see the city where God met the Sea.
Lui dice, l'amore che non ti aspetti?
Her voice, a dream complete,
the universal language in tones and  beats.
Galileo of Galilei finally free,
my heart a quivering seat.

I expected to fall asleep,
but mistakes you don't regret,
an angel's voice inside your head.
errori di cui non ti sei pentito, è amore, non è vero?
She said, as rain translated words obsolete.
love is something you don't regret.
I don't know her name,
but all I need is five minutes,
to feel her voice in my imbibition,
a reminder of a midnight train precognition.
Thank you to Simon and Victor of Her, dedicated to the memory of Simon for his amazing work on his short time here. To Victor for your incredible voice on your Colors rendition, helping create a moment on a train. To Isa a beautiful reminder of experience when you venture out to seek discomfort.
Morgan Alexander Sep 2019
A discarded Bazooka Joe gum wrapper
Two pieces of aluminum foil
14 pixie sticks of various flavors
A packet of fire sauce from Taco Bell
A half-gallon carton of spoiled milk
A half-eaten roast beef sandwich, covered in olive green mold

A wilted red rose
A broken picture frame with a picture that was ripped in half
An empty champagne glass with red lipstick in the shape of a woman’s lips on the side

One double A battery
A green rabbit’s foot
A 9" long strand of shoelace, frayed at both ends
Many crushed, empty beer cans

A torn white t-shirt
A strand of friendship beads
A partially legible postcard from Milan, Italy with a woman’s handwriting on it that read:
     “...just can’t handle...anymore...
     Life is...just want you....
    away...
    -Des... [Rest of signature illegible]”

Several ***** pennies, scattered about
21 cigarette butts, some spilled from the ashtray, all the same brand
A $173.44 electric bill
A deck of playing cards from the Pyramid Casino with a hole through the center, the Queen of Hearts is shredded and strewn about the driver’s side floorboard

A pink feather boa
A stale half-full box of cheap cigars
A pen featuring the logo of the Las Vegas Hilton
A business card from an insurance salesman with a non-descript name

The label from a bottle of Krystal
Several flyers from various escort services

On the passenger’s door: A large splatter of sun-dried blood
In the dirt outside:

A pair of men’s sunglasses
One shell casing from a .45
A Kimber .1911 handgun
A male skeleton with a hole in the skull’s right temple
Love's a b*tch ain't it? This is an object poem and was an experiment. I normally wouldn't include it in the collection I'm building but everyone likes this so I... whatevz!
Gonzalo Bartleby Nov 2017
I still see the trees
and feel the wind that
gently shakes the leaves
and the big buildings
when the light is fading
and the evening
is more than a promise
that people going back home
like ghosts of June
can't keep even though
Milano is looking great
and you come to me
and say hello pumpkin
can we live in this park
forever and eat melon.
Thinking of someone, a long time ago, another city, and I'm not sure if it happened that way or it is just my imagination.
s s f w s Apr 2017
Its so so long
There is no news aligned.
No-one cleared theirs throat,
Neither do i.
Only the memory persists.
Independence is a false motto
I remember it as if were yesterday
VE Day...well, not exactly
but, close enough for me
The actual surrender of Italy
May 2, 1945....but the **** Americans
Always the Americans wanted May 8
So, it's May 8th, but I'll always remember the second
We were in Milan...I love Milan
****** was dead, Mussolini was dead
I was alive, and in Milan
Rumours were out that the war in Europe was almost done
Nobody had told the Gerry's that though
Word came from Lubeck that they'd surrendered
I was twenty one years old, going on 50
War ages you...and not in a good way
I was in 6th Airborne and ready to go back
When the word came down
I remember kissing the waitress at our cafe
I kissed her hard, and with as much passion as a 21 yr. old can have
I didn't want to let her go
It was over
I kissed her for myself, and everyone in Milan
I kissed her for my folks in Clapham
I kissed her for her folks, wherever they were
I kissed her because we were free, they were free
I kissed her for my Uncle, who we lost early in 1941
Lost him during the blitz in London
England lost 430 people, we lost Uncle Cyril
That was enough, I was signing up
Now, it was over and I was moving on
I kissed her for everyone still waiting for the news
But, most of all, I kissed her for Leslie Testro, Rfn (18yrs)
Lance Cpl Thomas Wray (22 yrs), Lt. Dennis Edmonds (21 yrs)
and all the others attached to 6th Airborne
Who wouldn't know it was Victory in Italy
They were lost, not forgotten, never forgotten
Forever in our minds, our roll of honour
We celebrate them annualy
Few of us left now, but, those that are
go back to Italy every two or three years
back to Milan, and we toast them all
My waitress, Rosa Testrini
She was there as well, every year
Until five years back, we lost her
Now we toast her as well
We all have our honour roll
She was on mine
I found her again in 1950
We were on our second trip back
She met my wife, and I her husband
He's still there, and we talk
My Italian is better than his English
But, we talk as well as we can
I miss her, and the others
But that day, that glorious day in May
I've never kissed like that since
And my wife knows it
Sometimes she reminds me...
I laugh, and remind her....
What that day means...if it hadn't happened
We may not be kissing now
so, she'll never get that kiss
Only Rosa
Rest In Peace my waitress
Mash Aug 2014
I want to live in Europe.

I want to run in the Bavarian Forest.
I want to be left in the English rain.
I want to feel the Russian Frost.
I want to skate in the Alps.

I want to feel the French Luxury.
I want to taste the Belgian Chocolates.
I want to sleep in the European Palaces.
I want to feel the Papacy Monastic.
I want to feel the taste of French Cheese and Scottish Whiskey.
I want to hear the Italian Piano.

I want to read English Poetry.
I want to hear the Spanish legends and don't forget the olive there !
I want to feel the magnificence of the Parisian Events.
I want to swim in the Danube River.
I want to be inspired by the fascinating paintings.
I want to be amazed by the beauty of the churches there.
I want to read about the greatness of the European History from there.
I want to search in The Vatican Stores and Warehouses for answers I was looking for.

I want to dream about reading the books that have been hidden in the Invisible Palace of Books in Berlin.
I want to walk among the shelves of The National Library in London.
I want to go shopping in the streets of Paris and Milan.

I just want to be European,
I want to live in Europe.

                                                                             - *Shilo

— The End —