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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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.
Lands Far Away
One eye is made for gathering juice from a peach,
This peach called England, and not Italy.
They roll these eyes, as if goers of lands far away
Result in boredom for themselves, like Italy and Spain.
They roll their arms and strut on their legs,
Both of them caught inside tough weight of fruit and flesh.
One other eye has contacted the Brain, as far as the lane,
And what can inspire us into dreams
As much as sleep?
The English weather has a rainy day, an answer to question,
Then given over a Sunday lunch.
They go to Italy or Spain if tired, yet resent the art of going.
Go all to the beaches of Spain, or all go away.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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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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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We seem to be a long way off from the kind of Fascism which we behold in Italy today, but we are not so far from the kind of Fascism which Mussolini preached in Italy before he assumed power, and we are slowly approaching the conditions which made Fascism there possible.
quote by John T. Flynn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's typical of Italian culture that we only start to feel emotional about something when we have the possibility to see it in front of us. By February, Italy will have Olympic fever.
quote by Alberto Tomba
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When my lover put the sea between us
When my lover put the sea between us
And went wandering in Italy
My poor silly heart miscalled his journey—
'Leaving me'.
Towns of Spain and Italy he stayed in,
Each and all of them to me unknown;
How could he find pleasure being a lover,
Being alone!
Truly I was not as fair as Venice,
Noble as Siena, strange as Rome.
Certainly he loved Milan and Florence
More than home.
I believed his absence had estranged us
And across the heart-dividing sea
Sent him word that I no longer loved him.
Foolish me!
Came his answer after months of waiting
Echoing my letter, lie for lie.
Truth or lies I know not. Which unfaithful,
He or I.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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To Italy. (From Filicaja)
Italy! Italy! thou who'rt doomed to wear
The fatal gift of beauty and possess
The dower funest of infinite wretchedness
Written upon thy forehead by despair;
Ah! would that thou wert stronger or less fair,
That they might fear thee more or love thee less,
Who in the splendour of thy loveliness
Seem wasting, yet to mortal combat dare!
Then from the Alps I should not see descending
Such torrents of armed men, nor Gallic horde
Drinking the wave of Po, distained with gore,
Nor should I see thee girded with a sword
Not thine, and with the stranger's arm contending,
Victor or vanquished, slave for evermore.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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In Italy, on the breaking up of the Roman Empire, society might be said to be resolved into its original elements, - into hostile atoms, whose only movement was that of mutual repulsion.
quote by Edward Everett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Footballers Of Brazil
Unrivalled for their football skill
The great footballers of Brazil
And though they too have known of defeat
In the World Cup one of the hardest teams to beat
The present World Champions are Italy
The World's best team as most would agree
But in the showpiece of World Football
Brazil have the best record of all
To Italy the 2006 World Champions well done
They were the best and the best won
But in 2010 their title they defend
A hard task of that why pretend
And one of their main threats is surely Brazil
A team known for their football skill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Thoreau in Italy
Lingo of birds was easier than lingo of peasants-
they were elusive, though, the birds, for excellent reasons.
He thought of Virgil, Virgil who wasn't there to chat with.
History he never forgave for letting Latin
lapse into Italian, a renegade jabbering
musical enough but not enough to call music
So he conversed with stones, imperial and papal.
Even the preposterous popes he could condone
a moment for the clean arrogance of their inscriptions.
He asked the Italians only to leave him in the past
alone, but this was what they emphatically never did.
Being the present, they never ceased to celebrate it.
Something was always brushing him on the street, satyr
or saint-impossible to say which the more foreign.
At home he was called touchy; here he knew he was.
Impossible to say. The dazzling nude with sex
lovingly displayed like carven fruit, the black
robe sweeping a holy and unholy dust.
Always the flesh whether to lacerate of kiss-
Conspiracy of fauns and clerics smiling back
and forth at each other acquiescently through leaves.
Caught between wan monastic mountains wearing the tonsure
and the all-siren, ever-dimpling sea, he saw
(how could he fail?) at heart geography to blame.
So home to Concord where (as he might have known he would)
he found the Italy he wanted to remember.
Why had he sailed if not for the savour of returning?
An Italy distilled of all extreme, conflict,
Collusion-an Italy without the Italians-
in whose green context he could con again his Virgil.
In cedar he read cypress, in the wild apple, olive.
His hills would stand up favorably to the hills of Rome.
His arrowheads could hold their own with are Etruscan.
And Walden clearly was his Mediterranean
whose infinite colors were his picture gallery.
How far his little boat transported him-how far.
He coughed discreetly and we likewise coughed;
we waited and we heard him clear his throat.
How to be perfect prisoners of the past
this was the thing but now he too is past.
Shall we go sit beside the Mississippi
and watch the riffraft driftwood floating by?
poem by Robert Francis
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I also had this mistaken dream, fantasy really - perhaps because I'm good at languages - of being able in both Italy and France to become someone else through my fluency in the language.
quote by Harry Mathews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art is the music of the Soul!
Camelia Oprița in the interior of the painting, Academy of Romania, Rome, Italy (2001)
Submitted by Alexandet Iohan
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In Italy, I had an Afro, and a lot of the kids came up and felt my hair. It really was funny. I wish I had understood Italian.
quote by Sugar Ray Leonard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My talk show takes place in bed, in Italy.
quote by Amanda Lear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phallic Symbols
i love italy, i love Peninsular Malaysia
I love the Scandinavian Peninsula,
i love India, Africa and South America
they are phallic symbols
sticking out of great continents
each holding a bag of fertile cultures
to impregnate our adventurous minds
that dart round to feel God's greatness
I love Siva, I love her Pavita
Lingam and Oni that help circulate
the melting pot of fertile cultures
I love Italy, I love Peninsular Malaysia
India, Africa, S America and the Scandinavian Peninsula
they are phallic symbols
fertilising the thoughts for things
adventurous, and physical
forgive me if i have missed you
corners of earth that
jut out long enough for us
to take notice of their verile
existence
to take that second fertile look
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Being A Woman
Why is it, when I am in Rome
I'd give an eye to be at home
But when on native earth I be
My soul is sick for Italy?
And why with you, my love, my lord
Am I spectacularly bored
Yet do you up and leave me- then
I scream to have Annotateyou back again?
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet To Italy
FOR thee, Ansonia! Nature's bounteous hand,
Luxuriant spreads around her blooming stores;
Profusion laughs o'er all the glowing land,
And softest breezes from thy myrtle-shores.
Yet though for thee, unclouded suns diffuse
Their genial radiance o'er thy blushing plains;
Though in thy fragrant groves the sportive muse
Delights to pour her wild, enchanted strains;
Though airs that breathe of paradise are thine,
Sweet as the Indian, or Arabian gales;
Though fruitful olive and empurpling vine,
Enrich, fair Italy! thy Alpine vales;
Yet far from thee inspiring freedom flies,
To Albion's coast and ever-varying skies!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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