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It is not without reason that Italy is a tourist haven,
If you missed a tourist spot, you could be forgiven,
Numerous scenic eye-catching locales are so much fun,
Its as if the country exists for more hearts to be won

The toe of Italy's boot-shaped peninsula in extreme south is the region of Calabria,
Herein, perched above the Tyrrhenian Sea, is the pretty town of Tropea,
Located on a reef, Tropea has all the trappings of a rocky balcony,
That it is a most sought-after holiday destination, is not just baloney

Tropea is a mythical seaside resort, with stunning fantastic beaches aplenty,
It's coastline, known as 'Coast of the Gods', appears to stretch to eternity,
Between dramatic cliffs and golden sandy beaches & edged by translucent sea,
The glittering water with gentle waves is picture-perfect as it can possibly be

With endless cobbled streets, Tropea is a puzzle of cafes, bars & piazzas; spectacular sunsets aside,
Piazza Ercole is the central square most lively and vibrant with impressive buildings on all sides,
Corso Vittorio Emmanuale is a long street teeming with tourists enjoying beer, coffee or gelato,
People lazily wander up and down the road throughout the day, though with lack of gusto

The classic postcard shot of Tropea is the iconic Santa Maria dell'Isola monastery,
Perched atop a cliff, the church with it's pristine façade is a classic example of imagery,
Surrounded by beautiful gardens, the panoramic view of rugged coastline and beaches is breathtaking,
Endless clicking of selfies and group photos with the sanctuary backdrop, is for memoirs in the making

The Historic Center of pedestrian-only narrow winding streets and lanes is a medieval maze,
Old patrician houses and palazzi painted in pastel colors present a pleasant sight to gaze,
Restaurants, pizzerias, cafes, gelaterie, artisan shops flanking the streets add to the local mileu,
One senses adventurous excitement in the air when delving into history without much ado

Tropea is the only place in the world that produces red onions that are sweet,
Attributed to the soil and climate, the delicate mild flavor makes it a delectable treat,
Seeing them hanging at vegetable stands and stacked by the roadside makes it memorable,
From salads to jarred marmalades, local restaurants prepare them in every way imaginable

Eating tartufo in Tropea is a must-have unique experience for the traveling hedonistic epicurean,
Dual ice cream flavors molded around frozen fruit and coated with cocoa powder, make up the tasty union,
Served in frozen solid form, rich melted chocolate spills from the center when you dive in with a spoon,
A no-bake dessert recipe with numerous combinations of fruit and ice cream flavors, that makes one swoon

Vacations in Italy are never complete without the sweet tooth experience of the famed gelato,
Gelatarias abound in Tropea dishing out a variety of flavors waiting to be savored on-the-go,
Gelatos are frozen desserts of Italian origin that are sans eggs, having more milk and less cream,
From chocolatey to fruity to nutty and everything in-between, every flavor is a scream

Tropea's dramatic cliffs provide a perfect backdrop for the gorgeous sunsets in the evening,
Crowds make a beeline for the chic cafes on the town's edge to enjoy vantage viewing,
The occasional purple hue of the sea on some days makes for a great visual treat,
The sun setting over the Tyrrhenian vibrant red-orange fiery sky makes it impossible to retreat

Tropea's azure blue sea and white sand beaches are an ideal setting to relax the mind,
Cliffs, coves, grottos and dramatic rock formations dot the long coastline,
Visitors rent umbrellas, enjoy the sun and take a dip in the sparkling Caribbean-like water,
Blissfully relaxing while soaking in nature's wonder, oblivious of trivialities that don't matter

Emotions engulf you when it comes to the end of the stay,
You fervently wish that you could just stay for another day,
But the thought of other travel adventures waiting to be explored,
Makes you realize that there is seldom a moment to be bored
It's summertime
Once again,
Along with the kids
In my hometown

A nature trek and long drives
Paying visit to relatives
Reminiscing time spent with cousins
The golden olden times

Recalling nicknames
Cracking up on the same
Spilling each other's secrets to the children  
Earnestly, they listen to our childhood stories,
mouth agape  

Games we played
The same ,lost to time
Yet ,
As always, keeping the memories and relations alive
A quick scribble
In my hometown.

Stay blessed, dear poets and poetesses .
alexa Mar 2018
why is it that i can only really remember the bad ones?
i can still remember good ones but the bad overpowers them.

like that one time when me, my mom, and dad went to go get taco bell and when we came back they started arguing and let's just say that the car we were in didn't last very much longer.

or when my grandpa died. or my great- aunt. that was the first time i cried at a funeral.

good memories, let's see.

my recent florida trip. we also lost my family while there so i don't know about that.

my camping trip two years ago. i also had an asthma attack there so, never mind.

what i'm saying here is that your brain for some reason makes the bad memories stand out more and when you do have good memories you also have the bad ones in them.
i think this is more of a rant than anything, to be honest.
i just wanted to say that my memories aren't that good but i'll take memories over anything, i guess?

note; this started out as a poem about stuffed animals, don't ask.
Jackie Mead Feb 2018
Inanimate objects high in the sky, silently they fly, silently passing you by

Elgantly built, some for speed but mostly built  to cover a need

A need to get from A To B as quickly, cheaply and efficiently

Transporting you from your life at home to another less familiar zone

Some of us like it hot and by the beach, tanning and surfing all day long

Some of us like to be out of reach, isolated in a small hut on a hill, hiking each day is our chosen thrill

Some of us choose a City Break, a short hop to another land with different vibes and different sounds

Some of us fly business class of course, they get the extra room and a pillow to aid your sleep

The majority fly economy stowing your bags at your feet

Whatever your choice its much the same aim, getting away for a break is your game.

You may choose Las Vegas, Florida or France, Iceland, New York or Jamaica, Singapore, Rome or Venice, the world is your oyster.

You may choose to climb a mountain, dive in deep seas, camp by a fire, go see a band, dance by candlelight on the sand.

All of these choices are yours to explore let the Plane whisk you away to these destinations and more.

Your imagination is endless so let your mind roam free, have courage, book your ticket,  choose your destiny
Simples, a plane flew quietly overhead whilst I was out walking lunchtime
A couple being playful
Holding hands occasionally,
A man tuning his guitar in the sand by the sea,
A lonely woman coming back to the hotel
White plastic bag in hand,
Cars swooping the yellowed
Street silhouettes

And the man who can't sleep
Because his body's clock is upside down
Because there were 37ºC during the day
And body can't be refreshed by hot salty water
Because he dreamed and she was there,
More time than he needed
With such tenderness which couldn't be imagined

And the Mediterranean is getting bluer by the minute
And the boats now visible
And the guitar player never left the sand
And the man who can't sleep will remain awaken
By a dream which had put him to sleep.
Benidorm, Spain
august 3, 2017
6:35 a.m.
Another Poet Jul 2017
Take a sip and think
Take a sip and stare
The crowd, the beach, the trees

Alcohol makes everything better, doesn't it?
Taste the sweetness of your drink
Matches perfectly with the sunset

Intense but savorous the flavor is
You sitting on a swing
And waiting for the moon to rise
Hi everyone! I'm on vacations and I just described my relaxed and productive afternoon! Drinking cocktails and writing poems! Have a wonderful summer you all beautiful people
Ocean Eyes Apr 2017
School is not in session today.
One girl sits in her room
she does not move.
she is in the mountains
snow falls rivers freeze over
people are skiing outside
everything is silent
her phone her family
Accept for the silver watch on her wrist
that ticks like a metal pulse against her arm
she does not hear it.
She dreams about the
happy girl at the beach
the sand and the ocean breeze
she grabs her pillow like the sail of a ship
she opens her eyes once, and she thinks to herself.
The beach would be the best vacation, ever.
Francie Lynch Mar 2017
The children would be packed and ready days in advance.
At first, we packed for them, but as the years passed,
They were experts at rolling clothes for twice the space,
Using laundry baskets rather than luggage tripled our carriage.
We'd leave early Saturday morning, almost night,
Departing from the Ontario weather like a bad odour.
Kathleen was away at school.
Mags and Andrea were in their teens now.
Ten years of March madness was terminating.

Herself would sit shotgun with Triptik and thermos.
The kids would awaken south of the Ohio,
Hungry, grumpy, and eager.
She had it all planned out.
Crosswords, colouring, wordfinds, books, Gameboys, lace,
Sandwiches, juice boxes, treats of all sorts,
For another twenty hours on the road.

I invariably imagined our Mini in the return lane
As we crossed the Bluewater Bridge into Michigan;
Trip over, kids exhausted, us, quiet, subdued,
Just wanting our own bed.
But twenty hours on the I-75 lay ahead,
Turn left at Knoxville
For Myrtle Beach, sun, tennis, seafood,

I found no peace in our final escape.
Conversation with her had halted.
A round-trip of dialogue in my head.
She'd said, I bought a house.
Words wrapped like an egg-salad sandwich.
It was our March break.
Enjoy your holiday.
The Japanese Current
Flows through my veins-
Father of undertow
Feeder of the clam beds
Grinding away
The smooth edges
Of Summer and Autumn

Stranger to Southern beaches
The current creates
Weather of it’s own
And plays rough at it’s mildest.

I watch as the tow
Sweeps away my sandy footing.
How fast I can move
Is how fast I survive.

Don’t turn your back
On the Japanese Current
Mercy isn’t floating in that tide
And it will knock you down.

You can wade into the freezing waves
But only a fool would try to swim.
Nothing for Michael Phelps here
Unless he excels with a shovel.

From little motor court cabins
With linoleum floors
And sand in the corners
We’d pile out in the dark

At four A.M. low tides
Slender shovels in our hands
We braved the gales
That would be banned in Maui
Gifting us with glorious misery.

Wind whipping scarves and hair
And sneaking through the jackets
That didn’t really shield us
From the sideways blowing rain
That couldn’t wash away our smiles.

We’d stomp the sand and look for bubbles
Dig for all we’re worth - plunge a hand
Into the hole collapsing
To ***** for the illusive razor clam -
Treasure of the Northwest beaches.

Special treat for seafood lovers
Fried, or ground or cooked in stew
They seemed like sliced up innertubes to me
My fun was in the finding and the digging
The cleaning was my dad, the frying was my mom
And not eating them was me.


World’s longest unbroken sandy beach
Twenty-eight miles of solid sand
Bring your car, ride your horse or bike
Cut christies in the hard packed sand.
Splash along the edges of the waves
Race with no red lights behind you.

Just watch the turning of the tide
Or boys with jeeps will have to pull you out
(Impossibly heroic idols of
My childhood beach adventures.)

And yet sometimes the sun came out-
Oh rarest gift from Mother Nature
We wandered below the kite filled skies
And sandy castle festivals.

We hid both sorrows and often and joys
And sometime hanky panky
Among the sea grass covered hillocks
That roll like the boil of a bubbling kettle
Between the sand and civilization.

It’s still there, almost unmarred
By glitzy boardwalks and sunglass shacks
Just as I remember it, what seems an eon later
Familiar things at every turn
Small thing tell me that my world abides
And I’m not really home until I’m there.
I see it beginning to change and become more commerical.  Beard's Hollow, where we used to camp with our tent is now inaccessible from the road.  Clams  have been over dug and now there is a season and a limit.  The little motor ourts have been replaced with multistory hotels, but the little town is virtually unchanged. I cannot go to Southwest Washington without a day at the beach.
Nathan Wilson Jan 2016
A new year, if only I could just sleep through all 365 days.
Dream beautiful dreams because I hate this reality.
Clouds gather, rain pours, and the sky is gray.
I pull the covers back over my head and close my eyes.
Because what my mind conjurs is better than real life.
Dreams give unlimited options, you see.
I can fly in the sky or swim deep in the sea.
Talk to bird, crack jokes with a fish.
Ah to live in a dream who would not wish?
If only, if only I could spend the year asleep.
For my dreams are like vacations, only cheap.
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