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Remember
Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?

Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
50-200?
With frat boy vibes?

Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the
Fridge

Anyway
I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me

She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies

While I
Said
NO
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose

So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups

And though
I got to the other side
Contemplatively
Looking back
Empty

The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
Safe
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups
Laughing

So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Go
With
The
Flow
B Bonnete Feb 8
There's a boy in Venice
He sits quietly in a sullen ally
Velvet hands, scarlet feet
Strumming his guitar
He sings with a voice rooted in pain
Scratched by broken dreams
But when he played
His heart filled the empty arpeggio
With no other ambition but to please
He sat, and he played with ease
Staring down at his everything
Loving her

There's a girl in satin
Holding onto her chest
Shame succumbed by joy
Painting her bambola’s face
Her small feet dangling from the golden framed chair
Pink cheeks
Braided hair
Her doll looked the same
Putting down the paint brush she sat there
Loving her

The boy in Venice plays,
He strokes the strings
Hopping from one string to the other
Calloused extremities creating a symphony
And the girl in satin heard
And she danced
The boy who's face was viewed by none shifted up
And he danced
Two people
one world
one song
2020
Tom Atkins Dec 2020
Outside it is snowing, just a bit.
Twelve years in and it still seems odd
Vermont, cold and with its ethereal light
feels more like home than the hills and mountains
you spent your first 54 years immersed in.

It seems odd that you were nearly sixty
before rediscovering the ocean,
Maine and Cape Cod, wild, often rugged,
nothing like the sprawling sands
where you were raised. And yet, it is these seas,
not the seas of your first half century
that calm your soul and raise it
from it’s gloom.

It seems odd that the place
that sings its siren song,
calls to you, makes you yearn like a lovesick boy,
lies in a foreign land,
with a foreign language,
nothing familiar, nothing, and yet
the first time you arrived,
sitting in Saint Mark’s square,
cappuccino in hand,
the Adriatic light and salt water filling your senses
you felt more at home
than you have ever felt in your long fractured life.

It seems odd, that you are so in love
with a woman so different than the southern sirens
that surrounded you most of your life.
Darker. More direct. Challenging, yet gentle,
Struggling strong, real.
She enflames you. She calms you.
She protects you. Even from yourself.
You have never known a woman like her.
And yet, in her arms, you feel that most unusual of things,
safe.

It seems odd that at this age, you look at the places
you called home, and the places you feel home,
that make your soul feel whole, complete, possible,
and you question so much of the place and time
and people who raised you.
But only for a few moments
before realizing home has never changed.
Truth has never changed.
You have.
I often spend a lot of the week between Christmas and New Year's reflecting. These thoughts arose after looking at pictures from a few years back to use with this poem for my blog. One showed up from Venice and the poem fairly spilled out.
Olivia Dec 2019
Opulent,
Decadent,
Almost vicelike.
The people grovel,
Teeming among the city that sinks
Under the weight of its own
Infestation of the self.
The glass reflects the leering eyes of the masses.

The stench of the water rises,
Cloying.
Languid in obscenity
The shadows rot, unseen.
A graveyard of moorings past.

A woman falls.
We crowd around,
Vultures
Jockeying for view.

Guitar strings vibrate in the square
The sun beats down.

It was beautiful here,
Once.
i threw the rose into the canal

and


you pushed the tired away into other people's
eyes
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
julie Feb 2019
sing me an aubade
at beginning of aurora
serene and mellifluous
it's like a reverie, a felicity

you soliloquize, so calm
that it could be psithurism
I hear
the beating of your heart,
like the sound of a watch
enwrapped in cotton

a summer's zephyr opens the balcony windows,
so gently
dust particles are dancing
in the morning light
and are slowly falling on the white bedding sheets
do you smell the scent
of our neighbor's citrus trees?
2 hours by car is Venice
and I invite you to stay
in the enchanted and narrow alleys
with me
SUNDARAM SARMA Feb 2019
Can you envision a city built on a lagoon?
That's Venice, a name that always makes one swoon,
It has a reputation for canals rather than roads,
And a prime reason why one will never get bored

The famed gondola ride through the labyrinth of canals,
Is a must-have experience that is far from banal,
Gliding through serene waters with hardly a tilt,
While being serenaded by the cheerful gondolier's lilt

The epicenter of Venice is the popular St Mark's Square,
Teeming with tourists with a perennial effervescent flair,
Historic buildings and stately arcades form the periphery,
With an array of cafes and accompanying music for people to make merry

Witness the serpentine line of visitors entering St Mark's Basilica church,
Gazing at seemingly endless luminous gilded mosaics inside makes one almost lurch,
The Pala d'Oro altar of gold studded with hundreds of gems is a marvel to behold,
As are the mammoth innumerable columns that are so mind-boggling, if truth be told

The majestic Doge's Palace bears the stamp of masterpiece Gothic architecture,
Resting on a double arcade of marble columns lends solidity to the structure,
Spectacular halls and staircases adorn the interior, replete with exquisite paintings,
While ornate works of art complemented by more paintings are featured in the ceilings

The Bridge of Sighs is touted as one of the finest bridge architecture in the world,
The stylish Italian Renaissance connects the interrogation room to the prisoners' abode,
The sculptured sad or angry faces while crossing under the bridge can easily be seen,
Depicting sighs of prisoners awaiting their fate, as they mulled "what could have been"

The bustling Grand Canal is the central transport hub in picturesque Venice,
Gondolas, vaporettos and water taxis cruise up and down the canal without amiss,
Flanked by colorful buildings, iconic structures, buzzing markets and cobbled streets,
Time flies in hopping to various locations while savoring the glorious visual treat

The world famous Venetian glass has a history of its own,
Murano's glass museum visit facilitates all there is to be known,
For intricate shapes, it is a treat to watch the glass blower's skill,
Colorful designed vases and sculptures are effortlessly made at will

The lengthy arched Rialto Bridge is as old as the hills,
A crossover between San Polo and San Marco districts with hardly any frill,
It's breathtaking sunrise view receives considerable emcomium,
As a popular tourist spot, it needs no second opinion

As the bell-tower of the basilica, the Campanile is the tallest building in Venice,
The ring of each of the five bells is replete with history that one cannot miss,
The panoramic breathtaking view of Venice from the tower top,
Is one of the reasons why it is a must-experience visitors' stop

The mere mention of Venice always makes the lagoon city so exciting,
Little wonder that the annual Film Festival is a much-awaited outing,
The aura of glamor, glitz and entertainment never wanes any given year,
As folks continue to throng the city from far and near, with their near and dear
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