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"signor" poems
492 Civilization—spurns—the Leopard! Was the Leopard—bold? Deserts—never rebuked her Satin— Ethiop—her Gold— Tawny—her Customs— She was Conscious— Spotted—her Dun Gown— This was the Leopard’s nature—Signor— Need—a keeper—frown? Pity—the Pard—that left her Asia— Memories—of Palm— Cannot be stifled—with Narcotic— Nor suppressed—with Balm—
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Civilization—spurns—the Leopard!
How long will our bewildered heirs marooned in possessions not theirs puzzle at disposing of these three cunning feignings of hard candy in glass- the striped little pillowlike mock-sweets, the flared end-twists as of transparent paper? No clue will be attached, no trace of the sunny day of their purchase, at a glittering shop a few doors up from Harry's Bar, a disappointing place for all its testaments from Hemingway. The Grand Canal was also aglitter while the lesser canals lay in the shade like snakes, flicking wet tongues and gliding to green rendezvous. The immaculate salesgirl, in her aloof Italian succulence, sized us up, a middle-aged American couple, as unserious shoppers who, still half jet-lagged, would cling to their lire in the face of any enchanted vase or ethereal wineglass that might shatter in the luggage going home. Yet we wanted something, something small .... This? No ... How much is ten thousand? Dizzy, at last we decided. She wrapped the three glass candies, the cheapest items in the shop, with a showy care worthy of crown jewels-tissue, tape, and tissue again sprang up beneath her blood-red fingernails, plus a jack-in-the-box-shaped paper bag adorned with harlequin lozenges, sad though she surely was, on her feet waiting all day for a wild rich Arab, a compulsive Japanese. Grazie, signor ... grazie, signora ... ciao. Nor will our thing-weary heirs decipher the little repair, the reattached triangle of glass from the paper-imitating end-twist, its mending a labor of love in the cellar, by winter light, by the man of the house, mixing transparent epoxy and rigging a clever small clamp as if to keep intact the time that we, alive, had spent in the feathery bed at the Europa e Regina.
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Venetian Candy
How long will our bewildered heirs marooned in possessions not theirs puzzle at disposing of these three cunning feignings of hard candy in glass- the striped little pillowlike mock-sweets, the flared end-twists as of transparent paper? No clue will be attached, no trace of the sunny day of their purchase, at a glittering shop a few doors up from Harry's Bar, a disappointing place for all its testaments from Hemingway. The Grand Canal was also aglitter while the lesser canals lay in the shade like snakes, flicking wet tongues and gliding to green rendezvous. The immaculate salesgirl, in her aloof Italian succulence, sized us up, a middle-aged American couple, as unserious shoppers who, still half jet-lagged, would cling to their lire in the face of any enchanted vase or ethereal wineglass that might shatter in the luggage going home. Yet we wanted something, something small .... This? No ... How much is ten thousand? Dizzy, at last we decided. She wrapped the three glass candies, the cheapest items in the shop, with a showy care worthy of crown jewels-tissue, tape, and tissue again sprang up beneath her blood-red fingernails, plus a jack-in-the-box-shaped paper bag adorned with harlequin lozenges, sad though she surely was, on her feet waiting all day for a wild rich Arab, a compulsive Japanese. Grazie, signor ... grazie, signora ... ciao. Nor will our thing-weary heirs decipher the little repair, the reattached triangle of glass from the paper-imitating end-twist, its mending a labor of love in the cellar, by winter light, by the man of the house, mixing transparent epoxy and rigging a clever small clamp as if to keep intact the time that we, alive, had spent in the feathery bed at the Europa e Regina.
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429 The Moon is distant from the Sea— And yet, with Amber Hands— She leads Him—docile as a Boy— Along appointed Sands— He never misses a Degree— Obedient to Her Eye He comes just so far—toward the Town— Just so far—goes away— Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand— And mine—the distant Sea— Obedient to the least command Thine eye impose on me—
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The Moon is distant from the Sea
250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation— I—with my Redbreast— And my Rhymes— Late—when I take my place in summer— But—I shall bring a fuller tune— Vespers—are sweeter than Matins—Signor— Morning—only the seed of Noon—
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I shall keep singing!
She, good signor, whom in stormy sea With thee faithfully and firmly stood-- Steadying the family boat with fasting And prayer whilst thou hard wert rowing Against tempest--should nay in peace And prosperity be by thy head misunderstood Nor for another girl be in thine eyes contemned, Lest by heaven thy new blessing is ******
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Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 1:56 AM UTC
When Thou Art at Peace
You may not want me to tell you about The Galilean thermometer, But I’m going to tell you anyway: [It will improve your life!] The GT is colorful – its rainbow Of glass bubbles sparkle Slowly as they sink and swim Buoyantly in liquid. Signor Galileo was savvy for his age [Late Elizabethan], Even though he didn’t shoot an Apple off anybody’s head. GG was one step ahead of Einstein [Alphabetically] As his popular theorem posited that If D↓, T↑. This can be seen by ogling the GT [Note the dog tags] And checking to see if the blues Are higher than the reds. In Galilean terms the colors of the Glass bulbs are unimportant Since D is a function of the dog tags, [Ma Nature dictates the T]. GG invented the GT because he had A dream one day that The climate in Pisa was warming up [The tower began to lean]. Rising and falling as a result of density Isn’t new to science: [Jump in the neighborhood pool]. Ethanol in water. GG’s heirs haven’t profited much from the GT, nor has it been widely copied by entrepreneurs of note: [“slow and lazy”]. The verdict on the GT is still out, but Early reports suggest it won’t Exceed the popularity of the Chia Pet As the holidays approach. © Lewis Bosworth, 6-2016
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Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
The Gift that Keeps on Giving
On a back street in Mexico City meal sellers tend their stalls, dark faced men feed from ceramic bowls, menus are simple in black-board and chalk everything is flavoured with chilli and huddled shoulders reveal little small-talk. Street lamps throw more shadow than light and gas leaking from somewhere feeds the air with an acrid scent. I stop for a bowl of chilli-beans, beside me and one over at the bar a young man with matted hair and heavy eyes unwraps a stained cloth, takes a shard from a broken bottle and neatly incises a small vein in his wrist. He lets the blood drip evenly into a saucer beside him and in the other hand holds what seems to be a quill made from an eagle feather or some large winged bird. Dipping the quill in the gathering blood he begins to write in a leather bound book on tawn-coloured hand made paper. I watch every move. No-one seems to care or notice that he does this. He writes on and on, scratches a word, dips again - the blood flows more slowly; what has gathered seems sufficient, he spits in the saucer takes a shot of clear liquid (probably tequilla) and adds it to the mixture, I assume this is to stop it coagulating. My meal and appetite have gone cold watching this process. When the blood-ink is all but used he folds the book away, wraps his wrist in a stained cloth and walks into the street of shadow and meal sellers steam. The stall holder notices me and approaches: “Si signor this is Miguel the poet of the people. He is coming many times to write this way.” He smiles at me. I pay for the unfinished meal and he says, “The poetry for the people is in his veins amigo, is this not so in your country, are you also having such a poet?” I leave him. Return to my hotel room. Take out portable type writer and clean white paper And begin to write in blood blacker than ink. MChallis © 2015
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
In the Gathering Blood
On a back street in Mexico City meal sellers tend their stalls, dark faced men feed from ceramic bowls, menus are simple in black-board and chalk everything is flavoured with chilli and huddled shoulders reveal little small-talk. Street lamps throw more shadow than light and gas leaking from somewhere feeds the air with an acrid scent. I stop for a bowl of chilli-beans, beside me and one over at the bar a young man with matted hair and heavy eyes unwraps a stained cloth, takes a shard from a broken bottle and neatly incises a small vein in his wrist. He lets the blood drip evenly into a saucer beside him and in the other hand holds what seems to be a quill made from an eagle feather or some large winged bird. Dipping the quill in the gathering blood he begins to write in a leather bound book on tawn-coloured hand made paper. I watch every move. No-one seems to care or notice that he does this. He writes on and on, scratches a word, dips again - the blood flows more slowly; what has gathered seems sufficient, he spits in the saucer takes a shot of clear liquid (probably tequilla) and adds it to the mixture, I assume this is to stop it coagulating. My meal and appetite have gone cold watching this process. When the blood-ink is all but used he folds the book away, wraps his wrist in a stained cloth and walks into the street of shadow and meal sellers steam. The stall holder notices me and approaches: “Si signor this is Miguel the poet of the people. He is coming many times to write this way.” He smiles at me. I pay for the unfinished meal and he says, “The poetry for the people is in his veins amigo, is this not so in your country, are you also having such a poet?” I leave him. Return to my hotel room. Take out portable type writer and clean white paper And begin to write in blood blacker than ink. MChallis © 2015
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Signor Bialetti Brews the Coffee now Grazie, grazie, Signor Bialetti Natty with your moustache and pork-pie hat Charming man, your aluminum design And Italian elegance grace my stove If Don Camillo were to visit now And bring along his ****** pal Peppone They would still argue faith and politics Just as they do in Emelia-Romagna But here, over biscotti and expresso - Grazie, grazie, Signor Bialetti!
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Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 8:31 AM UTC
Signor Bialetti Brews the Coffee Now
My buckle was tightened, My hair pulled back. The counting lowered To a slower track. It spit, It moaned, Then took off towards the sun, Bringing me unknowingly To Florence's most gifted son. Haphazardly it crashed, By a tree with a sputter, And a poor startled child Who gave a choke and a stutter. My blood rose, I crawled out, In robes that were so Immaculately made Like a goddess would sew. So I journeyed with grace Across the sun kissed land, Towards a busy town That sounded proud to stand. Bickering, Singing, In a stench of waste and wine, Conditions in which My own people would wine. In a market of sorts, I met my friend Leonardo, Who sought about With his pet cat Lombardo. Rags, Candle sticks, He would aimlessly buy, We greeted with smiles As we passed each other by. “Sono Signor da Vinci.” He said through his beard, The richest voice That I had heard. I assisted, And learned, In his bizarre eye, And found he had a far Sharper brain than I. The man insisted that he Could soar without wings, And each day took part In the most peculiar things. “It is finished!” “It is ruined!” His passions were so great, I could feel his frustrations, And hear his teeth grate. Then once, With no mind, I grinned at his temper, Which made him glare- The strongest one I remember. But, he paused, and said “Mona Lisa, give another?” And I smiled once more as he lead. Now in museums, People crowd by the wall, They notice my face, And they tremble and fall. “Her eyes!” “Her hair!” I always draw in a line, Of inquiring tourists Who struggle to align. Now try as I might, Though I had upfront sight, His brilliance was too complex to site On paper, In art, His soul, It dripped From every pore And sought to touch The mind much more Than any genius Known before.
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Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 3:49 PM UTC
da Vinci
My buckle was tightened, My hair pulled back. The counting lowered To a slower track. It spit, It moaned, Then took off towards the sun, Bringing me unknowingly To Florence's most gifted son. Haphazardly it crashed, By a tree with a sputter, And a poor startled child Who gave a choke and a stutter. My blood rose, I crawled out, In robes that were so Immaculately made Like a goddess would sew. So I journeyed with grace Across the sun kissed land, Towards a busy town That sounded proud to stand. Bickering, Singing, In a stench of waste and wine, Conditions in which My own people would wine. In a market of sorts, I met my friend Leonardo, Who sought about With his pet cat Lombardo. Rags, Candle sticks, He would aimlessly buy, We greeted with smiles As we passed each other by. “Sono Signor da Vinci.” He said through his beard, The richest voice That I had heard. I assisted, And learned, In his bizarre eye, And found he had a far Sharper brain than I. The man insisted that he Could soar without wings, And each day took part In the most peculiar things. “It is finished!” “It is ruined!” His passions were so great, I could feel his frustrations, And hear his teeth grate. Then once, With no mind, I grinned at his temper, Which made him glare- The strongest one I remember. But, he paused, and said “Mona Lisa, give another?” And I smiled once more as he lead. Now in museums, People crowd by the wall, They notice my face, And they tremble and fall. “Her eyes!” “Her hair!” I always draw in a line, Of inquiring tourists Who struggle to align. Now try as I might, Though I had upfront sight, His brilliance was too complex to site On paper, In art, His soul, It dripped From every pore And sought to touch The mind much more Than any genius Known before.
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Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com                           Morning Coffee with Signor Bialetti Wreckage is everywhere, two apple trees down Limbs and leaves and litter, shingles and wood The lawns are white with shoals of springtime hail The lines are down and the power is out But Signor Bialetti from Italy A super-hero in aluminum Is pleased to take his place on the camping stove Twirl his moustache and stride through Sterno fire Singing songs from his favorite libretti While making us coffee – O brave Signor Bialetti!
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Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 8:50 AM UTC
Morning Coffee with Signor Bialetti