"riga" poems - Hello Poetry

A limerick. There was a young lady of Riga Who went for a ride on a tiger They returned from the ride With the lady inside. And a smile on the face of the tiger. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Remembering from school. Posted by Philip. November 24th 2018

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Nov 24, 2018

Nov 24, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC

oliver-philip

There was a young lady of Riga

A limerick. There was a young lady of Riga Who went for a ride on a tiger They returned from the ride With the lady inside. And a smile on the face of the tiger. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Remembering from school. Posted by Philip. November 24th 2018

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Welcome Back To This, Your Isle The rabbits beneath the deck, Even the pesky deer who eat the shrubbery, Sea creatures, living and spirits of the dead, Lying on the paths and in the creeks of Silver Beach, All inquire: Was it better wherever you went? Were the: Bears, hiding in the forests outside Berlin, Eagles, double headed, of Russia Herring, fried, creamed, wined, From the vendors on the docks of Helsinki, Riga, Visby and Tallinn, Salmon, smoked and cured in Stockholm, More impressive, Tastier than our striped bass, Island cohorts of yours, who waited patiently For their chronicler to return? Did the Little Mermaid and her Dolphin Guardians of the Port of Copenhagen Welcome you more warmly than your friends, The ospreys, lizards, turtles and owls Who overwatch your steps and safety When hiking in Mashomack Preserve? Are the interlacing tidal creeks, Woodlands, fields, salt marshes and the ragged, Irregular but charmed coastline of this cherished island Any lesser than those of Scandinavia? Are the sea-going ferries that transverse the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Finland, More poetic than the Menantic or the Lt. Joe, Who carry you swiftly home to us? The National Geographic people say that in Tivoli Gardens, The Amerikaner (ha!) waffle ice cream cone Is one of the ten best in the world. Guessing they have not made it yet to the Tuck Shop for some Moose Tracks! Were you unaware that our isle settled before Peter the Great ever envisioned creating the grand Boulevards of his capitol, St. Petersburg, Route 114 was a traveled forest path, By settlers and Indians, not serfs. Of the Treasures, the Gold Room of the Hermitage, The Amber Room of Catherine's Palace, Wrote not a single word, we observe. Your attentions, they did not deserve? The answers all, self evident. Here, surrounded by the gentle breezes of Long Island Sound and Gardiners Bay, Sweet and salty flavors of the Peconic atmosphere, Words unlocked, from your eyes to the page fall, Smudged by joyous tears, for the muses of the island Have embraced you yet again and rebirthed Inspiration, within their comforting, sheltering grasp. Silver Beach July 22, 2012

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Aug 3, 2013

Aug 3, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

Welcome Back To This, Your Isle

Welcome Back To This, Your Isle The rabbits beneath the deck, Even the pesky deer who eat the shrubbery, Sea creatures, living and spirits of the dead, Lying on the paths and in the creeks of Silver Beach, All inquire: Was it better wherever you went? Were the: Bears, hiding in the forests outside Berlin, Eagles, double headed, of Russia Herring, fried, creamed, wined, From the vendors on the docks of Helsinki, Riga, Visby and Tallinn, Salmon, smoked and cured in Stockholm, More impressive, Tastier than our striped bass, Island cohorts of yours, who waited patiently For their chronicler to return? Did the Little Mermaid and her Dolphin Guardians of the Port of Copenhagen Welcome you more warmly than your friends, The ospreys, lizards, turtles and owls Who overwatch your steps and safety When hiking in Mashomack Preserve? Are the interlacing tidal creeks, Woodlands, fields, salt marshes and the ragged, Irregular but charmed coastline of this cherished island Any lesser than those of Scandinavia? Are the sea-going ferries that transverse the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Finland, More poetic than the Menantic or the Lt. Joe, Who carry you swiftly home to us? The National Geographic people say that in Tivoli Gardens, The Amerikaner (ha!) waffle ice cream cone Is one of the ten best in the world. Guessing they have not made it yet to the Tuck Shop for some Moose Tracks! Were you unaware that our isle settled before Peter the Great ever envisioned creating the grand Boulevards of his capitol, St. Petersburg, Route 114 was a traveled forest path, By settlers and Indians, not serfs. Of the Treasures, the Gold Room of the Hermitage, The Amber Room of Catherine's Palace, Wrote not a single word, we observe. Your attentions, they did not deserve? The answers all, self evident. Here, surrounded by the gentle breezes of Long Island Sound and Gardiners Bay, Sweet and salty flavors of the Peconic atmosphere, Words unlocked, from your eyes to the page fall, Smudged by joyous tears, for the muses of the island Have embraced you yet again and rebirthed Inspiration, within their comforting, sheltering grasp. Silver Beach July 22, 2012

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A is for Athens B is for Berlin C is for Cairo D is for Dublin E is for Edinburgh F is for Fukishima G is for Guangzhou H is for Helsinki I is for İstanbul J is for Johannesburg K is for Kiev L is for London M is for Madrid N is for New York O is for Oslo P is for Paris Q is for Quito R is for Riga S is for Shanghai T is for Tokyo U is for Ulan Bator V is for Vancouver W is for Washington X is for Xianyang Y is for Yerevan Z is for Zagreb Travel the world see these places meet new people make new friends take photos make memories always be happy

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Aug 15, 2014

Aug 15, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC

craig-harrison

A to Z of the world

A is for Athens B is for Berlin C is for Cairo D is for Dublin E is for Edinburgh F is for Fukishima G is for Guangzhou H is for Helsinki I is for İstanbul J is for Johannesburg K is for Kiev L is for London M is for Madrid N is for New York O is for Oslo P is for Paris Q is for Quito R is for Riga S is for Shanghai T is for Tokyo U is for Ulan Bator V is for Vancouver W is for Washington X is for Xianyang Y is for Yerevan Z is for Zagreb Travel the world see these places meet new people make new friends take photos make memories always be happy

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Waiting, like molecules slowed in crisp heavy air, Like earths rotation has been compromised. The clock has all but stopped its ticking, Anticipation alive and writhing, sticking To the moment before it, sighing Licks its wicked lips, it’s smiling. I swear its trying to **** me, waiting for water to rush Over and replenish this parched earth Is like waiting for a cure The day after death has Rendered me stiff and ridged. Riga mortise over and done with. I wonder how many times That I can die before You will warm me with your kiss. I miss you

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Sep 20, 2012

Sep 20, 2012 at 1:35 PM UTC

best-to-remain-unnamed

Waiting ( on you)

Waiting, like molecules slowed in crisp heavy air, Like earths rotation has been compromised. The clock has all but stopped its ticking, Anticipation alive and writhing, sticking To the moment before it, sighing Licks its wicked lips, it’s smiling. I swear its trying to **** me, waiting for water to rush Over and replenish this parched earth Is like waiting for a cure The day after death has Rendered me stiff and ridged. Riga mortise over and done with. I wonder how many times That I can die before You will warm me with your kiss. I miss you

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if Jūrmala by Riga she fettered goat head aim for orient in sea yesterday she stank like the submarine there with Latvia as Über recoiled their way to Dow Nation with centipede in lore

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Jan 30, 2019

Jan 30, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC

poetman

Über

if Jūrmala by Riga she fettered goat head aim for orient in sea yesterday she stank like the submarine there with Latvia as Über recoiled their way to Dow Nation with centipede in lore

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By mirror I saw her as my own, she sat undressed, pity slouched, makeup putting on, then, by ice we were separate, man I alone in she, riga mortis and she dies, I say - no! stay back! as my throat holds, I am left alone in blue, black water besides my earthen trail, yet all I see is you.

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Sep 24, 2015

Sep 24, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC

sean-fitzpatrick

By mirror I saw her as my own,

By mirror I saw her as my own, she sat undressed, pity slouched, makeup putting on, then, by ice we were separate, man I alone in she, riga mortis and she dies, I say - no! stay back! as my throat holds, I am left alone in blue, black water besides my earthen trail, yet all I see is you.

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