During my first month in Italy I lived a nomadic life.
quote by Hugh Dalton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like Venice, Italy, New Orleans is a cultural treasure. And everyone who lived in the city should be allowed to come back. But that doesn't mean that they all should live in exactly the same spot that they lived before.
quote by Ed McMahon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streets Of Little Italy
(robbie seidman)
Producer for bonnie: desmond child
The narrow and the winding ways
The streets of old new york
The families, the street life, the spark
The rooftop where we watched
San gennaros festival
Masquerades in the dark...
On the streets down in little italy
Where the past goes on and on forever
And I feel it ever present
In every step I take alone
On the streets down in little italy
The oceans and the years
That separate our lives
From these streets we once called our home
Those distances of space and time
How strong they are
And how weak they are...
On the streets down in little italy
Where the past goes on and on forever
And I feel it ever present
In every step I take alone
On the streets down in little italy
Does the morning sunlight
Still hit the bed where we used to lie
Do the sidewalk stands and markets still overflow
Where I lingered till I was empty
Where I stayed till I had to go
Though in the night
Sometimes I see you disappear
Down cobblestones...
On the streets down in little italy
Where the past goes on and on forever
And I feel it ever present
In every step I take alone
Like your presence in my bones
On the streets down in little italy
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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July....
July is the month where the families get the barbeque grills fired up.
July is the month where the night sky is light up with fire works.
July is the month where many families go out of town to be with family.
July is the month where many kids are dreary because it’s a month away for school.
July is the month where America gets to celebrate its independence from England.
July is the month where many people are dying of the heat of the summer.
July is my favorite month because it’s the time that I get to be myself around my family.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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Nomadic Jim
The people nice to me in case you get me wrong
But I must be off been around here too long
Nomadic Jim said to me in a farewell good day
As to the railway station he hurried on his way
One in his late forties showing his years in gray
And clearly he has known a far better day
But it matters little to him if his best days are gone
He was born to travel and he will travel on
One who has seen much of the big World out there
His thoughts often lure him to places elsewhere
The lust of the wander is an addictive thing
Who knows where he will be for the birth of next Spring
He may be in Capetown or Berlin or Rome
To Nomadic Jim there is no place called home.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Heading Home
It has to be the warmest of feelings.
You have been away, and seen exciting scenes,
and eaten foods you never ate before,
and tasted delicacy.
And walked a stranger kind of street.
Then, near the end, of that nomadic path,
you know the tickets booked,
the train leaves prompt at nine,
and down you go,
with bags packed.
Like an exodus, others too, excited take their seats
and out pulls the train, goodbye that newer way.
Goodbye too the faces seen that journey on that path,
with maps and water and nomadic stare,
and home the heart is moved.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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So Much Life Longing For More Life
SO MUCH LIFE LONGING FOR MORE LIFE
So much life longing for more life
Wanting to live so much
To feel to experience to know to enjoy to love.
So much life
Others have lived
So much life
I would have lived.
And the life I have lived?
More than I can know or understand
So much of it gone forever.
And all the longing and all the memories
And all the love,
Where is it now?
I have lived so much
And never lived enough
And want to live too much more
And know I will never live enough
And know I have lived so much much more
Than I will ever know again.
Life and more life,
Longing and more longing,
Life- Please God-
Not Death.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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When I last went to Italy, over two years ago, I had a lot more trouble understanding the language than I used to when I lived there for a year. I used to speak very little but I could understand very well.
quote by Marcel Carne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've Lived My Life
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I left the country for the city thought I was smart but I was silly
I should have known I'd get in trouble being so green
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
I met a boy and learned to love him I would have done anything for him
I've loved him more than anything I've ever seen
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over I ruined my life to please my lover
I made him happy he made me cry then said goodbye
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
Only eighteen but it's all over...
I've lived my life and I'm only eighteen
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was interest from clubs in Italy and England, I believe. But I've never been attracted by the way they play in Italy. Staying in Spain was always my preference.
Escape
At times that were sporadic
he became nomadic,
moving around from place to place,
never having to show his face.
This solitary life he lived for now
became his choice which did allow
escape from a world that does not care
which he had searched for everywhere.
A victim of circumstance beyond his control,
he wandered around and became a lost soul.
The psyche of his mind after the war
had destoyed all that he had been before.
Gone was the faith he had in mankind.
Gone was the belief that he could ever find
peace in his heart for humanity.
He lived with the thought that he'd always be
able to kill at the sound of a gun
and so he kept moving, following the sun.
Hoping to gain some sense of calm,
reciting in monotony the 23rd psalm,
praying for sanity to find him again,
praying for forgiveness from all dead men
lying on battlefields, never to know
how his heart was aching so.
Buddies and strangers all of them gone,
nightmares at night and waiting for dawn
to erase the scenes that wouldn't let go.
Better to roam and watch the sun glow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Modeling, for me, was not fulfilling. I didn't see the point--although I was able to travel a great deal. I lived in Italy, Germany, and Spain, but I wasn’t devoted to it.
quote by Tom Welling
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Caesar Redivivus
In the olive groves of Italy
Men minds are all aflame;
For the war-lust spreads thro' Italy,
Where war-lords call the game.
And they dream of Roman legions
And the glory that was Rome's;
Yet reck not of the misery
That stalks Italian homes.
By the vine-clad hills of Italy
Men talk and dream of war;
Of the triumphs that were Caesar's,
And the glories known of yore.
But a mockery of triumph,
And an end to dreaming vain
Comes to victor, as to vanquichsed,
With a counting of the slain.
Oh, the women-folk of Italy,
They give their sons to Mars;
For they would be Spartan mothers,
Dams of splendid avitars.
But the fever shall be ending
In numb grief and shuddering fears,
When the spurious pearls of victory
Dissolve in women's tears.
In the pleasant land of Italy
The fever runs apace,
And the man who would be Caesar
From war's lesson turns his face.
With dreams of olden Empire
Would he set men's minds aflame,
Nor count the cost to Italy
In agony and shame.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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August....
August is the month for kids it’s the last few weeks of freedom before a new school year begins.
August is the month where many parents are excited that its here cause they don’t want their kids home alone.
August is the last month before fall begins.
August is the only month that has fewer holidays than most months.
August is the month where most teens are happy because it means that it’s the last school year for most.
August is the month that I really don’t care for but I also like as well.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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Life Alone
How does one justify a life lived alone
How does one love if they have never been shown
A life lived alone is a life lived in vain
A life lived alone has very little to gain
Why would anyone choose to live this way
Why would anyone choose to be alone everyday
Is it living alone a shy reality to blame
Is it living alone yet another of societys shame
I stand here alone with a tear in my eye
I stand here alone and wish to understand why.
'closing thought'
A singles life can have its moments of pleasure
But a family life is filled with memories to treasure
poem by Gordon Jerome
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Made in Italy
The power of time is made in italy
Gucci and Versace are names of history
The present is here, it is literally
The power of time is made in Italy.
So did Ben, so did I
So did all, so did everyone
We buy names, we buy fame
In our hands we touch the dream and pain.
You see in town, it’s all around
The power of time, the power of history
You wear signed jacks, t-shirts and blues
This make you feel brand new and cruised
So did Ben, so did I
So did all, so did everyone
We buy Versace and taste Trussardi
We know the Prada, the same Armani and too Cavalli
The style is rule, the style is right of everyone, the sense of people
The sense of life is made in Italy.
poem by Alexander Galbur
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A May Burden
Though meadow-ways as I did tread,
The corn grew in great lustihead,
And hey! the beeches burgeoned.
By Goddes fay, by Goddes fay!
It is the month, the jolly month,
It is the jolly month of May.
God ripe the wines and corn, I say,
And wenches for the marriage-day,
And boys to teach love's comely play.
By Goddes fay, by Goddes fay!
It is the month, the jolly month,
It is the jolly month of May.
As I went down by lane and lea,
The daisies reddened so, pardie!
'Blushets!' I said, 'I well do see,
By Goddes fay, by Goddes fay!
The thing ye think of in this month,
Heigho! this jolly month of May.'
As down I went by rye and oats,
The blossoms smelt of kisses; throats
Of birds turned kisses into notes;
By Goddes fay, by Goddes fay!
The kiss it is a growing flower,
I trow, this jolly month of May.
God send a mouth to every kiss,
Seeing the blossom of this bliss
By gathering doth grow, certes!
By Goddes fay, by Goddes fay!
Thy brow-garland pushed all aslant
Tells - but I tell not, wanton May!
poem by Francis Thompson
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A Life Is Lived The Way It Is Lived
A LIFE IS LIVED THE WAY IT IS LIVED
A life is lived the way it is lived
I did what I did
And made mistakes
Maybe most of it was a mistake
I don’t know.
I told myself always
The one thing I would never do
Is regret.
Regrets I don’t have
But the tone of regret now touches all I do
And some deep sadness says
‘I should not have failed so much.’
G-d who gave me this one life
And so much time
And so much opportunity
G-d who gave me my chance truly.
Can I blame You,
If I did not make it?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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And You...?
every month
my womanhood gets
thrown into the dustbin
at the street corner
every month
my womanhood
gets flushed out
in the water closet
month after month
i revive as a woman
i'm re-born as a woman
to nourish and nurture you
you say i need
to be a woman
to understand
what a man feels
and you?
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Pursued I am
Pursued I am
Pursued I am by a form, one that I am pursuing,
on top of it and even more from my own self,
Not searching a tangential perspective to assign,
Not searching of your entity to ghost my life dim,
not searching in my drum pulse, your war edging.
Deep fog surrounding your face, in an immersion
fills up my soul's expended needs, accounting of still
an exhalation of colored feast, of your waxened drift
an exhalation of a symbolism of older season's gift
an exhalation of this month's weaves, sovereign lists.
Little, many drops nomadic-rain, reflects me, on road,
autumnal fog and cloudiness hold-company's deficit,
when you totally forgot our laws - imperiously nonfit,
when of some Angels became and of my internal space,
when you felt some altered dreams of an eternal grace.
.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The problem of Italy is not really a question of age. Japan has an older population, and it is now in full economic recovery. The problem is that Italy is old in the structure of the society.
quote by Romano Prodi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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