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Best Poems From
GIORGIO VENETO
(01-16-1970)
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157.
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Eve of loves
Eve of loves sleeps in pelting letters,
perfect words of her wistful memory,
sadden Spring strings, 'n' scopes to avoid,
Eve rains her melancholy, 'n' petters,
cold mizzle drops recall her anchory,
bedewed smiles fly my air voices, to void.
She gallivants years of lingering calls,
laugh modes of erstwhile words mine,
Eve of loves, silently my dreams bestows..
Cold drops from tall skies always fall,
Eve's tears, doleful drops, facial sign,
Months of solitude, form our rain billows.
Pictures talk, as time wears fetters,
Eve of drizzles feasts on night knoll,
lone destiny sings modes of our life line.
Blissfully comes, with nice laughter,
Eve's doleful rain drops of skies tall,
are compliant to solitude of nigh after.
Giorgio Veneto
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158.
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factus illac lacrimosus
Caliginous, of long mane, maid beckons
as white sea birds dive in airy orbits,
and hazy horizons breathe, on eons,
resplendent she is! my soul transmits.
Thus, all advents of my previous lives
seek out for poetic streams, conflate,
white bluish colors, and dreams to guise,
benign oracle, to honor you and oblate.
The sea, I said, my soul, dimly effuses
to love you in ethereal transmittance,
I disinherit my years in Hades pastures,
accord of Elysian notes, a Deus stance.
The sea-gulls fly above, an obsequious
ocean behavior, so you, a memory fragile,
made solitude my companionship frivolous,
the flights fictitiously, my dreams beguile.
I recall our summer time, eons before,
gallivant feast to surmise dreams lost...
- A cry of yours, a dark mantle you wore,
factus illac lacrimosus, of my way foremost.
Giorgio Veneto
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159.
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False Chirp of a Quail
An obscure, immense of depths, open well
of desert quenching your thirst, soul's sort
Us, passengers of drought, our egos export
an attained flirt shout, false chirp of a quail
Your imposed upon laugh, my concern wry
Entered an odd world of whim, a pledge dry
No signature of opposites, on a wicked spell
My uppish egoism sense of evenness I abort
Your image of darken stills, in soul I import
Giorgio Veneto
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160.
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Febbraio fogs
Winds are blowing a grievous fate,
it's cold upon our fingers and dark,
ghosts prey howling on lone hark,
we came in life, one verse too late.
Winds are barking like stray dogs,
alone I wait for your icon to appear,
from our deserted (once alive) Pier,
where you smiled in Febbraio fogs.
And it is strange to feel you there,
you never left the winds' lone call;
I feel the flow in my veins to haul,
a string of fables on nostalgic fare;
And you appear - half on my mind,
'n' half in distance, to fill my eyes,
gray clouds snow from low skies,
doleful turns our dusk and twined.
Night denotes the silence of snow,
so much quietness falls like death,
regales me in solitude of an eighth
oracle to elongate, our time's tow.
Harbinger moon will Spring to fore,
if you appear, my hope will shine,
a conferred love will wave to mine,
imparted winds will reach Pier Four.
Giorgio Veneto
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