"bocce" poems
To Two Nonnas
@2007 Linda Barrett
We can't afford to go to Italy
So you both bring it to us
We hear in the music of your names,
each syllable coming from your mouths,
vocal chords and tongues
that dance fast Italian tarantellas
from your shared cubicle
You both should have been sisters
Born on the same month
And sailed into America
on the same ship.
You bring us Italy
through your cooking:
olive oil drenched cole slaw
made zesty with ground pepper and salt,
amaretto cookies placed on our desks
deep fried calamari rings
at the Willow Grove Bennigan's
and Italian restaurants
in a Maple Glen shopping center.
You both embrace us
with still strong Nonna arms
and crochet bright pink baby clothes
for expecting employees.
On the weekends,
you become bocce ball champs
in Montgomery County
where Italian is still spoken,
To uphold up the old country's heritage
This poem comes out
from our love to you
because just by being our friends
we want to save all our pennies
to see what Italy is really like.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
golfers riding mechanical bulls.
puking on street corners.
awkward cops. angry to boot.
***** fights. purple dresses. gold heels.
greasy cheesesteaks.
shuffle board AND bocce ball.
spirit'o'mericuh.
doritos. cool ranch AND nacho cheese.
white and black pin strip cardigans.
breast pumps or sound amplifiers?
****** indie.
photo booth bombs.
hot tea.
cheap whiskey.
expensive cocktails.
sticky icky danky green.
missed shows.
long lines.
wait.
remind me why im here again?
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Sipping cerveza with
Beautiful bocce ***** bowling
Through Pacific sands
While the sun tracks into the horizon
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 9:02 PM UTC
I like long walks on the beach,
Total enlightenment,
Licorice, and whisky
I am one with the universe
In tossing the old bocce ball
Through the long stretch of crab grass
Knocked the kingpin off its hinges
The horse shoe head landing in the dirt
A sign of the times, reducing earth and god
And us to
Everything
Scotch Plains, New Jersey
Scotch indeed! Or was it wine
That spilled over and into the street
Like rain rattling and trailing in residual little
Momentary lines through leaf and dirt and
Into the gutters gurgling and glistening and
Crying out to the long-dead lights,
“I am here! I am here now!”
The stars, they say, hear even the muffled
Screams of water and earth and man and
Time, even the mean tabby cat that glides along
The carpet in the twilight
We played horseshoes and bocce and sometimes chess
We watched old family tapes
And walked on the beach, and I hated licorice
Never had whisky
But **** me if it’s no different now
Between the times and signs and then
Sitting in the crab grass, drinking and dying and seeing and
Being and living and lying and I
Imagine the fine engraving
Left by a horse shoe head
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
From the saunter downtown
to the carnivals Ferris wheel
it is my wish today to tell you how I feel.
A year has now passed
come and gone
my how it flew by so fast.
Oh the times we have had.
Too many to count
bocce and ice skating and stargazing, so rad!
It’s eleven eleven so make a wish,
perhaps a reluctant dance or sing along song?
Dream on my darling, for that is rare
Just because I am nervous,
don’t think I don’t care.
Sometimes I am as reserved as a bear.
Football games, eclipses, and smoke breaks out back
from my cave to your cave
no one else can match
Oh the times we have had.
Too many to count
yoga and dinosaurs and movies (good and bad).
Climbing, hiking, running
and laying on the floor bumming
Make all the days rush by.
From the top of my trees,
to the bottom of my heart
my affections are great, and I cannot wait
to see you soon
-AM
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
I was fourteen that summer
We only spent a week together
And it may have only been a week
But God you made my knees weak
And I remember the moment I first saw you
So tall and slender, with those big brown eyes
You sat down next to me on the those front steps
And now every time I see those steps
I still think of you
I was shucking corn when you offered to help
Your southern drawl was so enticing
I handed you an ear, and your hand graced mine
God your touch took my breath away
You told me you liked my shirt
It doesn't fit me anymore, but I keep it anyway
I remember that night around the bomb fire
When I pointed out the small dipper
You looked over at me with those big brown eyes
You told me I was like the small dipper
I'm still not really sure what you meant by that
But it sounded romantic, and I smiled
The day you left I didn't move
Knowing that my whirl wind romance
Had run its course
I saw you one year later
But all I could offer was a meek hello
I wanted to say more
But then you were gone
And I was left wondering
I wonder what you thought of me
If you were as anamored by me
As I was by you
If I made your heart smile and your ears sing
As you did mine
If for that one week
You were as in love with me
As I was with you
It's been five years
But my thoughts still come back to you
I wonder what's become of you
I wonder if you're in love
I wonder if you're happy
I wonder what could have been
I heard you live in Germany now
How's the weather there?
Anyway,
Thanks for that one week
And thanks for the music suggestions
You were right,
The Rolling Stones are awesome
P.S, you made an excellent bocce ball partner.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
There is no evidence for the soul
But its absence
Nothing, nothing, nothing
The body to the soil
The soul slips away
I'm grateful today for bocce ball
Green and red all morning
I was in Italy once
Cathedral in Siena
Felt the Tuscan sun
Silently to pray
Italy. Verily. Yea.
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 1:26 PM UTC