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"nonna" poems
This woman speaks in tongues Foreign languages roll from her mouth Like summer fog ladled over the rim Of Candlestick Park In the not-so-distant Far far away of long long ago This woman speaks in rotund sentences Effulgent with vocabulary That shimmers with the electrified joy Of lights over Ghirardelli Square In the not-so-darkness Of the clammy and cabalistic night This woman speaks with her hands Impresciable, implacable, and inconsolable As she tries to mold untranslatable words From air that is as thin As the promises she’d preferred And purchased with the shards of her heart This woman speaks in lyrics Arpeggios of adjectives and alliteration That tumble acrobatically with the intricacy And grace Of a hummingbird in spring On the kiss of a blossom Rich and fragrant and giving as This woman speaking in tongues
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May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
Con la Nonna Rotondetto in Cucina di Musica
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.
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Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
two nonnas
Life's now fleeting moments with you Flow through my mind like a whirl pool. The minutes we think last forever, on a cycle which will never cease to exist, drastically come to a stop with no announcement. The silence of your voice is infinite, bringing uncontrollable tears to my eyes. What I would do to say goodbye. One last hug, one last laugh, one last season in the garden, one last cheers of our glass. What I would do to make those moments last a life time. To My Nonna, my Nonno -  Ti voglio bene asi... asi...asi The knowledge, wisdom, kindness and love you have given me will live on forever through me. Thank you for everything, this is only goodbye for now. Until next time. I love you.
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Sep 1, 2022
Sep 1, 2022 at 1:07 PM UTC
For Nonna & Nonno
I'm am now over twice the age I was when we lost you It's funny to think that the time I have had without you in my life is greater than the time I had you in it But your love and the effect you had on me will last my whole life.  Time moves quicker than we would like, and memories become hazy Smells, sights, photos, clothes remind us most vividly of the past Remaining family with their stories and anecdotes from you and your life keep alive the essence of you, and remind us not to be sad that you are gone but to be happy that we all managed to meet you and have you in our lives, even if short lived.
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Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 4:27 PM UTC
Nonna
Gathered daily along Via Longura Over antipasto and a deck of fifty-two, Surly men conspire with The **** barista in Café Settimane And the neighborhood nonna cursing from a window, Even the resident pigeon lady Atop her cobblestone perch, But not with me, una ragazza Americana On the 98th of a hundred day stay, and unprepared For the faint buongiorno that came out of no where Or the dealer who winked at me I swear—And I settled in as a regular With a smile on my lips, a grunt from Nonna, My standard espresso waiting for me on the counter.
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Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
The Neighborhood Jury
In my homeland I would sit and drink wine I would look out over the coast, drink espresso in cafes, walk in mircowedges over cobblestone streets in tight brown pants and beautiful coats. I would cook and bake and love and read and write, i would kiss my Nonna's cheek and speak with my hands. But... This is not my homeland and I do not drink wine I drink beer from a keg, starbucks with pumpkin, and the coffee here is drunk sitting down. I don't look over a coast but a concrete jungle of noise and smells that aren't fragrant or delicious there is no kitchen for me to cook in my dorm and i wear nike shorts and bean boots and i feel this life is not a grand one My homeland is not this place and indeed, nothing like this place and for that, i am grateful
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
Italia
To the man who raised me where my own father couldn’t, Papa… where do I even begin? I love you more than words could ever express. I will always cherish our time together- even though I will forever hate that we could not have more- and all the lessons you taught me. You were the most sincere, hard working, admirable and loving person I will ever have the fortune of knowing. You were my protector, my knight in shining armour, my superhero, my rock, my anchor, my confidante, my defender, and my best friend. There will never be a man in my life who could ever measure up to your strength, love and kindness. I’m sorry I’m not ready to let you go… nor do I think I ever will be. I guess part of me just thought you would be here with me forever. I really wish that were the case… but if it’s time for you to go, I guess I can settle for you being my guardian angel instead. I also just want to thank you. Thank you. Thank you for always being there for me without ever questioning it or wavering. Thank you for holding my hand and guiding me. Thank you for wiping my tears, hugging me tightly and always knowing how to comfort and cheer me up. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for always having my back and supporting me. Thank you for all the times you soothed my anxiety attacks growing up. Thank you for all the nights you spent up with me when I was afraid. Thank you for your undying love and support. I can’t ever thank you enough for everything. I miss you so much. I wish I could talk to you once more. I wish I could tell you how much I love and miss you. I wish I could thank you and apologize. I wish I could joke around with you. I wish I could have you sing to me- in that god awful tone-deaf singing voice of yours that always made me laugh. I’d even put up with you singing Chicken Talk. I wish we could have had more time, but I know that no amount of time would ever have been enough. I got you for almost 25 years and I guess that will have to be enough. I would give anything just to be able to tell you this and for you to be able to hear me and respond. I know you’d tell me not to cry and not to be sad. I know you would tell  me you love me and always will. I know you’d also tell me to take care of Nonna and Callisto, Nova and the kids. I just wish more than anything I could actually hear you saying those things. You are my sunshine, papa… Always, your little girl.
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Jun 2, 2021
Jun 2, 2021 at 3:51 PM UTC
you are my sunshine
To the man who raised me where my own father couldn’t, Papa… where do I even begin? I love you more than words could ever express. I will always cherish our time together- even though I will forever hate that we could not have more- and all the lessons you taught me. You were the most sincere, hard working, admirable and loving person I will ever have the fortune of knowing. You were my protector, my knight in shining armour, my superhero, my rock, my anchor, my confidante, my defender, and my best friend. There will never be a man in my life who could ever measure up to your strength, love and kindness. I’m sorry I’m not ready to let you go… nor do I think I ever will be. I guess part of me just thought you would be here with me forever. I really wish that were the case… but if it’s time for you to go, I guess I can settle for you being my guardian angel instead. I also just want to thank you. Thank you. Thank you for always being there for me without ever questioning it or wavering. Thank you for holding my hand and guiding me. Thank you for wiping my tears, hugging me tightly and always knowing how to comfort and cheer me up. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for always having my back and supporting me. Thank you for all the times you soothed my anxiety attacks growing up. Thank you for all the nights you spent up with me when I was afraid. Thank you for your undying love and support. I can’t ever thank you enough for everything. I miss you so much. I wish I could talk to you once more. I wish I could tell you how much I love and miss you. I wish I could thank you and apologize. I wish I could joke around with you. I wish I could have you sing to me- in that god awful tone-deaf singing voice of yours that always made me laugh. I’d even put up with you singing Chicken Talk. I wish we could have had more time, but I know that no amount of time would ever have been enough. I got you for almost 25 years and I guess that will have to be enough. I would give anything just to be able to tell you this and for you to be able to hear me and respond. I know you’d tell me not to cry and not to be sad. I know you would tell  me you love me and always will. I know you’d also tell me to take care of Nonna and Callisto, Nova and the kids. I just wish more than anything I could actually hear you saying those things. You are my sunshine, papa… Always, your little girl.
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Delle volte mi concentro su particolari lontani e totalmente irrilevanti come la posizione delle dita delle mani appoggiate allo stipite della porta o su un bicchiere e io penso sfiorami sfiorami sfiorami. mi ricordo casa di mia nonna, il suo parquet, la luce che enTrava dalle grandi finestre, tutta la lista di cose che mi era vietato toccare
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Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
03:38 am
- Donde, o vecchina, queste violette serene come un lontanar di monti nel puro occaso? Poi che il gelo ha strette tutte le fonti; il gelo brucia dalle stelle, o nonna, ogni foglia, ogni radica, ogni zolla. - - Tiepida, sappi, lungo la Corsonna geme una polla. Là noi sciacquiamo il candido bucato nell'onda calda in mezzo a nevi e brine; e il poggio è pieno di viole, e il prato di pratelline. - Ah!... ma, poeta, non ancor nel pio tuo cuore è l'onda che discioglie il gelo? Non è la polla, calda nell'oblio freddo del cielo? Ché sempre, se ti agghiaccia la sventura, se l'odio altrui ti spoglia e ti desola, spunta, al tepor dell'anima tua pura, qualche viola.
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Viole d'inverno
with apologies to WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (from Henry V, spoken by King Henry) Once more to the table, dear friends, once more; Or close up our hungry mouths with supermarket staples. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of hunger blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Cut fine the sinews, simmer up the blood, Disguise cheaper meats with hard-favour'd sage; Then lend the stirring spoon a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the foccacia bread Like the brass cannon; let the garlic o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled onion O'erhang and jutty his confounded  tomato base, Swill'd with a wild and wasteful Cabernet Savignon. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose ragu is fet from Nonna's fail proof recipe! Nonna's that, like so many  Stephanie Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even, baked And brewed their sauces  and stews, for lack of argument: Dishonour not your mothers; now attest... That those whom you call'd mothers did feed you well Be copy now to men of larger appetites And teach them how to eat. And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your belt; let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so hungry, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
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Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
Feast
with apologies to WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (from Henry V, spoken by King Henry) Once more to the table, dear friends, once more; Or close up our hungry mouths with supermarket staples. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of hunger blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Cut fine the sinews, simmer up the blood, Disguise cheaper meats with hard-favour'd sage; Then lend the stirring spoon a terrible aspect; Let pry through the portage of the foccacia bread Like the brass cannon; let the garlic o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled onion O'erhang and jutty his confounded  tomato base, Swill'd with a wild and wasteful Cabernet Savignon. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. Whose ragu is fet from Nonna's fail proof recipe! Nonna's that, like so many  Stephanie Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even, baked And brewed their sauces  and stews, for lack of argument: Dishonour not your mothers; now attest... That those whom you call'd mothers did feed you well Be copy now to men of larger appetites And teach them how to eat. And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your belt; let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so hungry, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
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Nu caro amico dice a n'ato amico: - Pe mezza toja me songo appiccecato. Tu vuò sapè cu cchi? No, nun t' 'o ddico. Statte tranquillo, l'aggio sistemato. Afforza 'o vvuò sapè? E mo t' 'o ddico, ma tu nun 'o cunusce, è n'imbecille. Na vota s' 'a faceva int' a stu vico, mo pare ca sta 'e casa a Via dei Mille. Ch'ha ditto? Niente... L'aggio sistemato. Mo nun s'azzarda cchiù a fà 'o fetente. Ha ditto ca tu si nu disgraziato; ma nun 'o dà importanza, è n'ommo 'e niente. E ch'ato ha ditto? 'E solde nun se fanno onestamente senza n'espediente, si 'a ggente parla, ride, è pecché sanno comme te l'he accattata 'a milleciento... Che ssaccio, ca mugliereta ch'ha fatto, ca tu te stive zitto, ire cuntento, ca te 'mparaste pure a ffà 'o distratto e doppo t'accattaste appartamento. Sentenno sti parole, tu mme saje, 'o sango a parte a capa m'è sagliuto: Che faccio? Accido a chisto... 'o passo 'o guaio... Sentenno 'e di ca si pure curnuto, nun ce aggio visto cchiù: l'aggio 'nchiantato senza le dà nemmanco 'a bonasera. Sta lezione se l'ha mmeretata, 'nfaccia a sti ccose io songo assaje severo! Aprite ll'uocchie si n'amico vuosto ve vene a raccuntà ca v'ha difeso 'a quacche malalengua: è stu cagliostro ca isso stesso ve vò fà l'offesa. E quante nce ne stanno 'e chiste amice ca songo "cari amici"... e nun è overo. Guardatele int' 'a ll'uocchie... sò felice quanno fanno vedè ca sò sincere. 'A nonna mia, vicchiarella e saggia, diceva sempe: - Nce sta 'o ditto antico: Chi 'mmasciata te porta, vance adagio, ca 'ngiuria te vò fà... e nun è amico. -
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'A 'mmasciata
Nu caro amico dice a n'ato amico: - Pe mezza toja me songo appiccecato. Tu vuò sapè cu cchi? No, nun t' 'o ddico. Statte tranquillo, l'aggio sistemato. Afforza 'o vvuò sapè? E mo t' 'o ddico, ma tu nun 'o cunusce, è n'imbecille. Na vota s' 'a faceva int' a stu vico, mo pare ca sta 'e casa a Via dei Mille. Ch'ha ditto? Niente... L'aggio sistemato. Mo nun s'azzarda cchiù a fà 'o fetente. Ha ditto ca tu si nu disgraziato; ma nun 'o dà importanza, è n'ommo 'e niente. E ch'ato ha ditto? 'E solde nun se fanno onestamente senza n'espediente, si 'a ggente parla, ride, è pecché sanno comme te l'he accattata 'a milleciento... Che ssaccio, ca mugliereta ch'ha fatto, ca tu te stive zitto, ire cuntento, ca te 'mparaste pure a ffà 'o distratto e doppo t'accattaste appartamento. Sentenno sti parole, tu mme saje, 'o sango a parte a capa m'è sagliuto: Che faccio? Accido a chisto... 'o passo 'o guaio... Sentenno 'e di ca si pure curnuto, nun ce aggio visto cchiù: l'aggio 'nchiantato senza le dà nemmanco 'a bonasera. Sta lezione se l'ha mmeretata, 'nfaccia a sti ccose io songo assaje severo! Aprite ll'uocchie si n'amico vuosto ve vene a raccuntà ca v'ha difeso 'a quacche malalengua: è stu cagliostro ca isso stesso ve vò fà l'offesa. E quante nce ne stanno 'e chiste amice ca songo "cari amici"... e nun è overo. Guardatele int' 'a ll'uocchie... sò felice quanno fanno vedè ca sò sincere. 'A nonna mia, vicchiarella e saggia, diceva sempe: - Nce sta 'o ditto antico: Chi 'mmasciata te porta, vance adagio, ca 'ngiuria te vò fà... e nun è amico. -
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A place of love and laughter, Of smells of food, And tummies full, With delicious pasta meals, Memories that feel so distant, I really wish I was back in Nonna's kitchen.
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Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 4:30 AM UTC
Nonna's Kitchen
Children are lucky because they have A Grandma and a Grandmama Nonna, Mhamó, Abuela, Bibi Babcia, Giagiá, Avó, Oma Nagymama, Mormor, or Kuku wahine Are names of love for their Nan O baachan, Babushka, Tutu, Halmeoni Are certainly not names for a man Ouma, Savta, Bubbi, Geema Nai Nai, Nona, Gramms and more Bomma, Mawmaw, Yaya, Nana If I keep going you’ll think I’m a bore All names for their Grandma The one they adore That special someone Who’s love to the core She plays with them, cuddles, and keeps them all warm She feeds them, she rears them takes over the chore But all of this just to say, lest we forget Grandmas are LOVE LOVE LOVE and more
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Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Grandma and Grandmama
It was a time for me to love and face my fate A time to forgive but not to hate A time to believe in myself and all that i desire In a time where i think of what i want in life and as i discover who i truly am and yet to be My great grandmother will always be apart of me I am her legacy living and growing as i am A girl with different ability and hopes and dreams I wonder what my nonna would say to me Her blood ruins through my veins As i look in the mirror i wish i could see her face There's so many questions i have and undying love for someone i hardly know As you watch me from the sky, my heart is and my mind are always thinking of you and wondering what to do missing you from far away and wishing to be with you and wishing i could remember you as a young infant , wishing i could of known you more , a part of me is you ,i am your legacy that still lives ,inside of me and through these eyes , the same eyes as you , one part of me and one part of you
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Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 2:37 AM UTC
angelina the great through time
All these spectacles and still you made a spectacle of yourself. All these binoculars and still, she wasn't the only one you saw. All these calendars and you still didn't have time to come out and visit. All these clocks and you still couldn't give her the time of day. All these hair straighteners and still you couldn't straighten yourself out. All these hearts and you still couldn't give her yours. All these obstacles and still you couldn't get over them. All these calculators and you still can't figure your problems out. All these directions and you still can't find your way back home. All these weights and still you couldn't pick your life up. All these cleaning supplies and you still couldn't clean up your act. All this soap and your attitude still stank. All these gates and still you won't make it to heaven. All these condoms and you still ****** up. All these vows and you still went against your word. All these games and yet you still played her the most. All these pencils and yet you still wrote us off. All these exchange rates and yet you still couldn't come through in September 2006 or August 2014. All this money and you still won't contribute to my future. All these birthday cards and still you couldn't wish me. All these funeral and get well soon cards and still you couldn't say goodbye to Nonna. All these apples but still, we weren't the apple of your eye. All these sunglasses and still you were too blind to see what you lost.
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
Good-bye Mark La Rosa. Good-bye "Father"