Deep Blue
A solitude of ghostly spill, a dim dispersion,
forgotten sand in eternity's hourglass,
sailors distinguish this life as an obsession,
warriors so expendable, across surpass.
My obsequies in sea, a trinket of dispersion,
recall me lost in January, found in May,
my dreams convert my demise to affection,
and my epitaph became a crossed dismay.
Thud Thud, sounds in sleep, wind-sail-blasts,
She may be the ultimate mens beguile,
Impertinent of a deity, waves on masts,
With her ambrosian sovereign touch and smile..
Maybe I 'll fly with her above a lonely steppe
my solitude will dream of her, as I 'll hark,
word of a priestess form, Delphic corax step,
expended in Stygian terre oblong, as Hydras bark.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Floating Brim
An eerie song spelled by the auster,
but no one, must listen to the gusts
we receive on our cargo's pilot cutter
as we sheer off, to a nightly cussed.
The wind sings this divergent song,
with a conceived vision to whisper,
upon the pilot cutter, sailing along
Atlantic, as we stare at the big dipper.
On long route, attention sharpens,
with our steersman's whistling song,
heard in a liquor bar in Antwerpen
but he was not so lucky or strong.
A quarrel and a flashing blade, drawn
just for a solitude's question spend,
on Ocean wondering his soul 's upon,
in the winds, a harmonica will blend.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Rings Of Alloyage
Rings of Alloyage
The sky rains, on plains and souls,
Lady of then, is under the foliage,
gallivants feasts, rings of alloyage
are a betrothal bond, prime extol.
Arcanum noble lady, for me waits,
inside the forest, to adorn my light,
comes in the mizzle drops to write,
an ode sings passing the straights;
(Bright who passed the rocks lays
on sky trajectories, ether's streams;
when light passes thru his dreams;
they say he shines as Helios rays ;)
Up there his radiance vivid projects,
aloof grieved souls feel his affection;
the winds engage in this convection
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Ethics of a Duel
When a coarse concept, descends to mind,
when a lowborn idea breaks down to grind,
mental opposition will arise, as part of nature,
only well favored by Laws, a mind to adjure.
Atrocious behavior appears as subjective,
reason of insecurities - lack of perspective,
and then a kindly solution should complete,
cause nature expects balancing, to deplete.
Elements of ill-nature may uplift for fights,
when vile glowers in soul, to create 'rights',
true then solution be, for objectivism to try,
if you insist to attain thyself, duel and die.
But if you manage to survive and live to tell,
dispiriting your life will be in darkened well,
because you did not accept Laws' shields,
Noble souls you won't see in Valhalla fields.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sinister Crocodile
A muddy water, beyond ground, abound,
jazzy verses, happy lol, gals are on kohl,
to accompany my brisk stroll, a big dhole!
wants to bite my behind, a sinister hound..
I playfully swim, in river Nile, for a long mile
cute birds around peep, the water is deep,
joyfully splashing I flip, stunning to beep!
kissed resurrected vile - sinister crocodile!
Fast I start propellin', so forgive my spellin',
in Nile salvation lies, under a swarm of flies,
dead spirits there rise, to ask for apple pies,
I swim clearly yellin', and fly as a Zeppelin..
The dhole sits on the banks, horridly barks,
frightful feeling hopeless, Nile is bottomless,
nevertheless, the croc wears bikini topless,
like with idiots or drunks, my power flunks!
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sirens Harp
Our long roads to faraway, but not to safety
fair in advance, a violent gain, of our eternity,
there, we seek our childhood's white clouds,
why ocean-paths are ornaments of shrouds?
So you ask me, glorious beauty, to adore,
of lone paths you have chosen, way before,
years to guide us back, to opaline nacreous
darkened mislays, of my strength ominous.
Shrills of Ghosts belt down anything gleaming,
or hopes, to dusk in dreams again, dimming,
to abate in Stygian trips, a devoid emptiness,
consent Styx darkness, renounce brightness.
Pearlescent were our trips, along Milky ways,
beaming in ocean paths, our childhood bays,
in Stygian dew, how unassailable they will be,
even from us! and decorate a dim Sirens' glee.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Countess Bathory
Of blood dulcet drops, a Lady scorns,
dissembled, in Castle adytum laws,
dark aisles, her efflorescence adorns,
in dungeons carved emblem of claws.
A mantrap whispers her Aura spells,
subliminally kind to open Castle gate,
a black widow in mystic dark cells,
of bloody elixir, a bath to embrocate.
Virginal offers to her impertinence,
absolute deity in darkened worlds,
as torches glow in yellow affiance,
she 'll marry victims in Hellish molds.
Countess in Castle, erstwhile entreats
in man's subconscious, then blasts,
in oral blood thirsty drinking feasts,
a deathly rhythm, as torture lasts.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Fog Horn and Bow Bell
January of thirty first in sea it was,
when we routed to new parallel lines,
your hoarse voice told me from brines,
to be careful of the Southern stars.
Three demons danced on dead wood,
and we joined them drinking the grog,
I heard your voice warning me in fog,
a Northern wind was beating the hood.
We danced with death's hove in sight,
his ghostly vessel sailed in distance,
we laughed with our apt contrivance,
-and kept illuminated our dead lights.
Dunnages creaked, and then I heard
your eerie voice to express a verdict,
our vessel's crew may leave derelict,
and embark in boats to be deferred.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Our rendezvous for repeats
Our rendezvous for repeats
These nights take turns on a invernal cold
your image is re-visiting all of our norms
hiding times your persistence will recall
returning waving of our reverie heart-beat
Our first rhythm you world will not forget
as it has left - interval of some bitter call
a small affection hangs tonight in the air
in the wind, this very dawn reveals you
And all your silences around us increase
like bells of Sunday's liturgy are inviting
the years left us ever since our ins abiding
a locked windy call - Aerial incompetent key
Festoons have raised up - engaging, embracing
as if we increased our searches' every stream
as if the voices are frozen in our brumal skies
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I missed the trees
I liked my solitude, it was my soul's profit
and cared to build my prowess, with content
often I longed for my patrial home's soffit,
and felt to inhale the aura, Aegean sea sent.
I missed the wind that in pine foliage whistles,
where birds were playfully singing in Spring,
and I wanted to count the Winter's thistles,
on the plains we played, where memories cling.
Scripts are little souls that learn to survive,
in austere years afar, with my friend the sky,
celestial trajectories their scopes contrive,
where affection is limited and coldness nigh.
My icons roam on a go-to-meeting greenway,
ideal forms, with poems an affable to grace,
they follow the tracks of an infinite railway,
with scopes on a marble surface to outrace.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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