Going to Tuscany
Just outside the window
at the fountain
a place in Tuscany
runs into violet hills
of lavender
against the outer wall
and sweet lavender perfume
drifts into the room.
In the corridor
between the bedrooms
and your studio
paintings of scenes
in Tuscany
shows where your heart
wants to go.
On the bed next to me
twin peaks with delicate
red brown nipples
rise inviting
with their own
perfume drawing me closer
to fields of your lavender.
To some they could be
big South African rondavels
shading against the African sun,
but more likely they
are pale white villas
set high above your sea
where beyond auburn bushes
is as secret hidden pond.
Streets meander up and down
soft and firm
arms and legs
while Tuscany rises
in the middle of me
and a hot welcome breezes
like the Tuscan wind
against my hand
and I feel passionate rain
between your legs
and I see daylight and stars
in your eyes
and your lashes
open and close
like table-clothes
jerked by a storm
coming in from the sea
in great old Tuscany
and I drive my Tuscany into you,
into a street of wondrous delicacies
and we go to Tuscany
where fields of lavender grow
and I know that it is like heaven
but somewhere here on earth
and Tuscany reflects in your eyes
and I hear it in your sighs
and Tuscany is right here.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Simply by not owning three medium-sized castles in Tuscany I have saved enough money in the last forty years on insurance premiums alone to buy a medium-sized castle in Tuscany.
quote by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early one afternoon
Early one afternoon
I walked through the streets
of a small village
and it had to be in Italy
and was probably in Corona
or Tuscany.
a Baker with a white overcoat
and white hat on his head
rang on his bike’s bell for me
and pedalled pass,
with an old green bike
at the Pizza Palour.
There were long white breads
and green wine bottles,
in the baskets of his bicycle
and he had a big bush
of red blue lanvender flowers in one hand.
Across from me there were three small tables
with white table-covers,
at the Villa Toscana
and I could read some dishes
from the menu on the wall.
At the wall a young woman
with dark hair and an indigo dress
laughed sharp and bright,
while she waited
that a well built waitress
pour some more wine.
The image of the beautiful waitress
with black hair and deep dark eyes,
that bends forward
still stays with me.
In front of me at Le Art
there were a row of paintings,
depicting nudes to the finest detail
on painter’s easels.
I walked nearer
and I could see rows of violet lavender bushes
against the ridge in the distance
and Villa’s, that stand yellow gold
up on the hill
and looked impressive
against the deep blue sky.
When I got back to myself
I was at the fountain
in front of the mural
in our garden
and the golden Persian cat,
watched me from the top of the wall
with a woolly tail that curled down
and it looked with golden eyes at me.
[Reference: Tuscan mural by Mandi. See the painting at my webpage: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1417_Early_one_af ternoon.htm]
poem by Gert Strydom
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My memories are my stupendous granny, the only thing that she knows about rock are my songs, but deep inside she has a boundless youth. A happy spirit where I could always find shelter. At the time of storm or crisis run away to Tuscany, to her. And meeting, among her long soft arms, under the foliage of the millennial tree, I could pull myself together and become child again.
quote by Gianna Nannini
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In Lavender And Green
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With bells about your feet,
And music in your step,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With sunshine in your eyes,
And springtime in your hair,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With softness in your words,
And healing in your touch,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green?
With your name upon my lips,
And delight within your kiss,
When you come to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
In dreams at midnight’s rest,
Or afternoon’s recline?
Come then to me in lavender and green.
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
At the setting of the sun,
When my days are nearly run?
Still come to me in lavender and green?
Will you come to me in lavender and green,
If I wait at heaven’s door,
As I waited once before,
While you walked to organ’s tune,
On a summer’s afternoon.
Now dressed in springtime hues?
My love, companion, muse,
A vision still I see,
Dressed in lavender and green.
poem by Greg Davidson
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Surely, if knowledge is valuable, it can never be good policy in a country far wealthier than Tuscany, to allow a genius like Mr. Dalton's, to be employed in the drudgery of elementary instruction.
quote by Charles Babbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Days
Lavender inspiration guides me...
Through orchards and vineyards grown
Revitalizing my inner essence
Blessing the Lavender-Blue sown;
In my minds eyes i oft' meditate-
'Tis Lavender Fields now or never...
Transporting me into Vales O' Bliss
Leading me into my Lavender Forever;
O' mighty Spirit O' Nature...
Strengthen me with your sweet power--
Free me in your fields O' Blue and Purple...
Shelter me in your Emerald Bower;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Approaching Lavender
If youd like to spend the afternoon approaching lavender
Youll feel just fine but one things sure
Youll never be the same
If youd like to try your hand at understanding lavender
Then you must be very sure
That life is not a game
You might even learn a thing or two approaching lavender
Youll soon be on a one night tour
Forgetting your own name
You wont need a reason just to be alone with lavender
For the light so warm and pure
Will draw you like a flame
The colors that surround you there will be the shade of lavender
Shadows dancing everywhere
Like flowers in the rain
You will find your tongues on fire while lying next to lavender
With words you never spoke before
And will not speak again
Oh sweet lavender I understand you perfectly
There is no way that I can see
You living by yourself
Oh sweet lavendar I must be with you constantly
Your presence means so much to me
Much more that life itself
Oh sweet lavender as fragrant as the name you bear
Please cast away the clothes you wear
And give your love to me
Oh sweet lavender your smile is like the golden sun
Id love to see you laugh and run
As naked as the sea
If youd like to spend the afternoon approaching lavender
Dont try and get the best of her
She will not share the blame
If youd like to try your hand at understanding lavender
Then you must be very sure
That life is not a game
There is no shame
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Hill
I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Lace
Lavender lace, tears on my face
Our love ? ? ? to celebrate our first date
But Im alone in lavender lace
Lavender lace, theres not a trace
Of that guy that I love so well
Now he wont see me in lavender lace
Why oh why didnt my baby show?
Why oh why, didnt he love me, no
I dont know if Ive ever been so lonely
Lonely in lavender lace
Oh, lavender lace seems out of place
Its 2am, well whats with him, making me cry?
Giving me blues in lavender lace
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Fileds
Running free with your heartbeat -
Running away from the bad dreams -
Embraced in your sweet arms -
Come Rose dropp Kisses -
Flowing in billowing streams.
Lavender Fields of our desire -
Running with you, throughout time -
The passion-filled moments spent -
In Our: 'Most heavenly Climb'
Never one to be sentimental -
But your romance, it took my hand -
And it led me towards:
'True Loves Most Eternal Land'
Once, i was running on empty -
Once, running away, in sheer vain -
Now that i have you beside me -
Gone is all emptimess and pain.
Roses and Lavender breeze -
Dreams weave, their very own way -
Together, we are:
'Forever'
Alone, in Lavender Fields, we now lay.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Rainbow Lavender Tale
say you love me
don't wait to hold me
I know you feel me
like rainbow lavender
say you stay with me
don't leave without me
I want you need me
like rainbow lavender
say when you are sad
don't hide your tears
say when you are mad
don't turn your face
you say it's not fair
but then you kiss me
you say it's end
but then you steal again
you say don't care
but you run back to me
my eyes cheat me
for rainbow lavender
say we have chance
don't say everyone tells
we are drunk a fairy tale
of rainbow lavender
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-85
Adukku Malli (Arabian Jasmine, Butt mogra
Jasminum samba var, Grand Duke Of Tuscany)
I shall wait dear Malli
Till you're in blossom
In three decks creamy
Full and fragrant awesome
Solitary on strong cane
Supporting leaves bushy
Opens your fragrant plane
For tea and perfume dashy
So shall wait dear Malli
Till you're in blossom
In three decks creamy
Full and fragrant awesome
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Journey
Anghiari is medieval, a sleeve sloping down
A steep hill, suddenly sweeping out
To the edge of a cliff, and dwindling.
But far up the mountain, behind the town,
We too were swept out, out by the wind,
Alone with the Tuscan grass.
Wind had been blowing across the hills
For days, and everything now was graying gold
With dust, everything we saw, even
Some small children scampering along a road,
Twittering Italian to a small caged bird.
We sat beside them to rest in some brushwood,
And I leaned down to rinse the dust from my face.
I found the spider web there, whose hinges
Reeled heavily and crazily with the dust,
Whole mounds and cemeteries of it, sagging
And scattering shadows among shells and wings.
And then she stepped into the center of air
Slender and fastidious, the golden hair
Of daylight along her shoulders, she poised there,
While ruins crumbled on every side of her.
Free of the dust, as though a moment before
She had stepped inside the earth, to bathe herself.
I gazed, close to her, till at last she stepped
Away in her own good time.
Many men
Have searched all over Tuscany and never found
What I found there, the heart of the light
Itself shelled and leaved, balancing
On filaments themselves falling. The secret
Of this journey is to let the wind
Blow its dust all over your body,
To let it go on blowing, to step lightly, lightly
All the way through your ruins, and not to lose
Any sleep over the dead, who surely
Will bury their own, don't worry.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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I saw you walking around
I saw you walking around
in Tuscan streets
between yellow painted villas
on roads of cobbled stone.
The sky was light blue
the Mediterranean a darker hue
and all the places
had red tiled roofs
and some balconies
cordoned off by black iron rails.
Somehow your soul
was lost in Italy
while you walked
through fields of purple lavender
smiling lovely and being high
on the sweet perfume.
At dusk the light shone bright yellow
from windows all over
and a little later
we drank sweet red wine
at a café
and borrowing a guitar
you singed along
with the performers in the street
and I know it’s great to dream
about life in romantic places everywhere
but I am here and drink my tea
and write these lines down.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lavender Bassman
Listen to my bassman, he is lavender
His woman is his bass and he is loving her, loving her
Listen to the sounds hes giving
As he is living
True to lavender
Listen to the things my friend is saying now
A poetry of notes as he is playing now, playing now
Listen to the tales hes telling
Magic bass compelling
Lavender
Listen to my bass man, he is lavender
His fingerboards a highway, hes a traveler, traveler
Listen to his fingers making music
Hear his soul embarking
Lavender
Listen to my bass man, he is lavender
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maybe I am looking at Eve
Two paintings
look back at me:
The one girl is shy
and stripped to her middle
with auburn hair
covering a breast
and the other
hanging round and firm
tipped by
a pink brown nipple.
The big eyes of the other
are greener than grass
and laurel is wreathed
through her auburn hair
hanging in strings
of a fairy like girl
whose complexion
glows pink and alive
and she’s dressed
in big green leaves
holding some purple lavender
in a unseen hand
and I like to think
that both paintings
shows the same girl
and maybe
I am looking at Eve.
[Reference: Keys to your heart and Fairy Queen by Mandi Engelbrecht. (These paintings belongs to me.) ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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As I’ve no hope of returning ever
As I’ve no hope of returning ever,
Little ballad, lightly, softly,
Go yourself, to Tuscany,
Go straight to my lady,
Who of her great courtesy
Will show you highest honour.
You will bring her news of sighs,
Filled with pain, and great with fear:
But take care to meet no eyes
Hostile to a gentle nature:
My disadvantage then for sure
You’d work, like one opposed,
And be by her reproved,
And so prove pain for me:
So that after my death there’d be,
Weeping and fresh dolour.
Little ballad, you know that death
Grips me so that life deserts me,
Know how my heart with every breath
Beats hard, as the spirits speak inside me.
So much of my Being’s now undone,
I can scarcely suffer longer:
So if you would serve me further,
Take my soul along with you,
Fervently I beg of you,
As it leaps from out my heart, here.
O, little ballad, now I yield
This trembling soul to your friendship,
In its sorrow, take it with you,
To the sweet one to whom I send it.
Oh, little ballad, sighing say
To her, when you’re presented:
‘Your servant comes
To be with you,
He leaves one,
Who was Love’s servant’
You, little weak and fearful voice
Issuing from the sad heart weeping,
Go with my soul, and this little song,
And tell her of my mind that’s ruined.
You’ll find a tender woman there,
Of an intellect so sweet,
That it will be delight complete
For you to leave her never.
And then, my soul, adore her,
Worthy as she is, for ever.
poem by Guido Cavalcanti
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-33
Lavender, (English lavender, True lavender
Lavandula angustifolia,)
(Feather-leaved Lavender, Lavandula bipinnata)
She's a queen from far afar
An allayer for heart as nectar
Lavendula sisters are many
Known in common only came to me
Just came as a guest on a visit
Got implanted in mind the best
Purplish hale on spikes in whorls
Purple pale petals up in flutters
Why she cringes to sharp leaves
May be, helps herself, saves fragrance
Yes, her scented bulk proves her ilk
Our mind and body not to sulk
Just a breath of hers I breathe in
Pain free I'm taken out of sin
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sea-Lavender
Lavender, sea lavender!
Pale sweet flower how full of her!
Flower discreet, with your priest's eyes
Trained in all time's mysteries,
Yet how chastely calmly sealed!
Flower of passions unrevealed,
Stainless eyes, but none the less
Wise in life's most nakedness,
With its inward hours of sin,
Known to thee, and all therein;
And how soul with soul found might,
In the watches of the night,
Cherishing an unseen joy,
Man with woman, girl with boy,
Under the sky's multitude,
Till the pulsings of their blood
Led them into ways unknown,
Flesh of flesh and bone of bone
Clasped in one, till doubt was over,
And they went forth loved and lover
Bride and groom to their new home.
See, to--day to you I come,
Flower of wisdom who know all,
To your mute confessional,
Wanting love and wanting her,
(Lavender, sea lavender!)
In a world where she is not,
Mined with plot and counterplot
Built against our happiness.
You, who know her most, can guess
What her thought is far from me,
What soft wind of memory
Fans her with a scent of pleasure,
What sweet song in what sweet measure
Trilled by birds when day was breaking
And each tremulous throat awaking
Strained to make its passion heard
Louder there than other bird,
While we listened, we too, straining
Heart to heart, and watched the waning
Moon fade slowly like a feather
In the red East, close together,
Near, how near, who now are far.
Tell me what her fancies are.
Does she love still? Does she cherish,
In the waste of days that perish
That one dawn, which cannot die?
Nay, I know it, nor will I
Doubt of love or doubt of her,
(Lavender, sea lavender!)
Since she knows and understands
That my hands still hold her hands.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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When the Lavender Returns
As cold as ice
Wrapped round your brain
And darkness unfolds
You’re breathing in pain
It’s been freezing here
In this Land of Shattered Dreams
It’s been freezing here
This corrupted winter stings
It’s been freezing here
(Où est la Lavande?)
Your body can’t stay warm
(Où est la Lavande?)
It’s been freezing here
(Où est la Lavande?)
This cruel and criminal storm
(Où est la Lavande?)
But don’t give up
Don’t despair
Taste the hope
Floating through the air
When the lavender returns
It’ll warm your frozen bones
Vivid violet clothes
In their candy overtones
When the lavender returns
It’ll race across the land
Rebel flower grows
In the palm of your free hand
If you look out your window
The ground’s parched and bare
If you call for your lover
She’s no longer there
If you ponder your life
Well, it feels like a wreck
And your failures are scars
You can never forget
As leaves turn brown
Sky fades to grey
You’re feeling the drought
The end of the day
It’s been lonely here
In this World of Fallen Souls
It’s been lonely here
With nowhere left to go
But don’t give up
Don’t despair
Taste the hope
Floating through the air
When the lavender returns
It’ll warm your frozen bones
Vivid violet clothes
In their candy overtones
When the lavender returns
(Où est la Lavande?)
It’ll race across the land
(Où est la Lavande?)
Rebel flower grows
(Où est la Lavande?)
In the palm of your free hand
(Où est la Lavande?)
When the lavender returns
(Où est la Lavande?)
It’ll warm your frozen bones
(Où est la Lavande?)
Vivid violet clothes
(Où est la Lavande?)
In their candy overtones
(Où est la Lavande?)
poem by Catman Cohen
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