Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ceyhun Mahi Aug 10
The Son of Rome, strong and clear in mind,
Once proud and mighty, a holder of power,
Has fallen to the depths of humankind,
Not asking of his downfall and best hour.
From day to day, his seed did change and grow
In others shapes, not meant for nature's rules,
Its soil has turned fruitless, it is barren now,
Turning from geniuses into fools.
Where is the crusader with waving sword,
Coming to rescue all his oppressed brothers?
The viking with its axe, without a lord,
Invoking fear within the heart of others?
    Although since birth a foe of my ideal,
    Disappointment and mourning's what I feel.
In this haunting city where the summer is humid and also sticky,
the sun blisters the naked skin
As silver Beads of sweat trickle
Like sweet gelato drizzling in the blazing heat.

There is poetry in the streets
Of graffiti, mellow lights and yellowed walls.
Of cobblestones and of riches
Dazzling every inch of this old city.

The air is laden with soulful music
Of long, lost love
Of passion
And of words rolling melodically and melancholically in modern Latin.

The souls gone by
Of artists, slaves and martyrs
Wander eternally in this ancient city.

They whisper softly in the evening wind
Knowing every tourist and every Roman,
Enchanting gently to their soulful being.

So with longing I think of Rome
As i feel the whispers in the evening wind.
Hypnotised, spellbound; knowing that somehow -
i  am rome.
Chris Saitta May 30
Autumn is a Greek sea,
A summation of wet leaves,
Gathered wicks of sunset,
A hypocaust of warm water,
That lies beneath our feet,
Incense from the Sea of Crete,
Risen to the airy suggestive.

Autumn is a word in the mind, fallen leaf-like to the mouth,
How like the orange rind, our ancient past is shriveled under pillars.
“Hypocaust” is essentially a hollow space under the floor where a furnace then supplied heat to homes, a central heating system some references date back to Ancient Greece but certainly prevalent in Ancient Rome.
Persephone Mar 27
I pride myself on not being able to fall in love so easily.
But one look at you darling and I felt the ruins of Rome shiver at the thought of falling all over again.
What choice did I truly have?
Chris Saitta Jan 10
So falls Greece, so falls Rome,
And in their bone-lipped tombs
Forever those still listening for love.
Kamila Jun 2021
Isn't it weird how fast I've fallen?
I already miss your spirit, sunshine.
To be frank, wherever I'm going
I feel the urge to be back all the time

I miss museums and ancient buildings,
The river, the grass and the trees.
I miss the way I was usually feeling
While I was walking down your streets.

I don't honestly know how it happened,
How quickly you captured my heart,
But I could've never imagined
That I'd miss Roma so hard
Chris Saitta May 2021
When she folds into me and weeps,
The world of empty things falls into me
Like the wetness of July in antiquated Rome,
Mother of tears, Mater Lachrymarum, in Forum stone,
The rain-addled veneers of Octavia’s portico.

Gather up these black sickened bellies of ruins,
Turn them out to make hunger the den of the skies,
Let the cracked whisper of each monument and temple
Breathe as Caesar, in unending stillness like a bare road.

A road is the sadness of seeing our beginning
But knowing love its far-off end is foretold.
Anthony Pierre Apr 2021
Let scarlet feathers go
as love does exiled too
One hundred leagues
One hundred Roman feet
One hundred prosody

For Augustus' dreams
condemns me treacherously
and I cannot breathe
Each gasp for life is death
Each death a new stanza

Let scarlet feathers go
as love does in exile, too
across white cloudy fields
beneath the asphalt sea
Let scarlet feathers go free
Ovid's Cure is certainly poetry
Phoenix Black Dec 2020
A haze of amber flecked with gold
the nightly spell of Rome takes hold
its citrine light gleams from our hair
and footsteps float as if on air

the ancient wiles of ancient lanes
dilate our eyes, infect our brains
the domes and columns coalesce
to wink us, nudge us, urge us, 'yes'

with impish looks, our hands entwine
our faces flushed with golden wine
coy laughter rolls in rustic streets
till in our sight, the river greets

upon the bridge, the Tiber calls
our glances dip and silence falls
with glimmered quill, the waters write
“The time is now to seize the night”

I squeeze her hand, she bites her lip
up to the ledge, I quickly skip
she joins me swiftly, turning pink
with gazes locked, we breathe in sync

with softest hands, I brush her face
and in a move that flows with grace
our parted lips now gently press
and soon enough our tongues caress

the city grins with hushed applause
and through our veins its passion roars
three thousand years of joys refresh
to burn again in mortal flesh
Next page