Home PageRomantic PoemsSad PoemsMore Poetry Categories
Travel Poems
Travel Poems

PRAGUE AT DUSK
Prague lays over its inhabitants in shades of grey. Oppressively close
to the surface, some of us duck, others simply walk carefully, our
shoulders stooped, trying to avoid the monochrome rainbow at the end of
the hesitant rain. Prague rains itself on us, impaled on one hundreds
towers, on a thousand immolated golden domes. We pretend not to see it
bleeding to the river. We just cross each other in ornate street
corners, from behind exquisite palaces. We don't shake heads politely
anymore. We are not sure whether they will stay connected if we do.

It is in such times that I remember an especially sad song, Arabic
sounds interlaced with Jewish wailing. Wall after wall, turret after
turret, I re-visit my homeland. It is there, in that city, which is not
Arab, nor Jewish, not entirely modern, nor decidedly antique that I met
her.

And the pain was strong.

-- Submitted by Sam Vaknin from Skopje, Macedonia


FLAMES OF LIFE

The fiery ball of flames
Burning, with the oxygen of life
Tanning the horizon
With it's amber glow

Another summer's morning
Sweet, with the scent of Arabia
And the fire of ambition
That in every spirit grows

This crown that heralds the day
With it's luminous brilliance
Raging with vivacity and verve
The jewel of the desert sky

This day we offer up to Him
He who sanctifies us all
Behold the sacred desert sands
On the call of the mullah's cry

-- Submitted by Nicole Anne Braganza from Rak, United Arab Emirates



TIP OF THE PENINSULA

Bordering the basilicata
Between seas of Tyrrhenian and Ionan
An isolated individuality
With two million souls alive in the cols and valleys.

Land of treed mountains massif
Pollino and the Botte Donato
The chestnuts and the beechwoods
The evergreens of pines and spruces.

The deer, the boar
The woodpecker and the martin
Some of the wildlife most attractive
Did I fail to mention the peregrine falcon?

Still mysterious and unexplored wetlands
A flourish of vegetation
The magnificent yellow flowers
And the colorful iris.

Languages of Cosenza and Catenzaro
Albanian and Greek in the Bova
The forsaken peoples
Living at unjust and tragic standards

Ancient and modern Romans
Policies of exploitation leading to authority mistrust
Eternal resistance on subsistence farming
Thank heaven for the olives in abundance.

A land of splendor
Endless variety of panorama
Majestic blue and green beaches
The Mediterranean haven of Calabria, Italia.

-- Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA



CRUISIN'

All aboard the Fantasy M/S of Carnival
For half a week's vacation time of fun and falderal.
Hear greetings from your captain, his director and the crew.
Ready, set, get going. The Bahamas wait for you.
Bon Voyage to Reggae being played upon the Lido.
Dinner is at 6 or 8. (Hold off on that tuxedo.)
You could eat a pizza by the Windows On The Sea
Or go beneath to dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d'.
Stay up late for comedy or reflect upon the ocean.
Go to bed, relax your head, sense the soothing motion.
Rise and shine in Freeport where the ship will dock all day.
You can disembark to take a tour or you can stay

Lounging on the deck or take a dip or dance calypso,
Go below and have massage, shop, or play some bingo.
The second day when you awake, you'll find yourself in Nassau.
Take the kiddies, take a friend, take your gramps or grandma.
Little ones can stay behind. There's folks to entertain them,
Or they can tag along with you to see the sights. No problem!
I'm not into nature. I prefer the funny things:
The contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.
But if you like adventure, visit lovely Blue Lagoon.
Swim with sting rays (they won't bite). The boat leaves right at noon.
Venture into town. You may be nabbed by a "plaza beautician."
Getting braids is all the rage, so people have their hair done.
Be sure you're back to the gangway before the ship sets sail.
If nothing suits you up to now, you're deader than a doornail!

Day At Sea arrivies as your trip is winding down,
But the biggest night is coming. Time for formal dress or gown.
That final evening dining at your table with new friends,
You'll wish instead of ending, it were starting all again.
Gals and guys with braided scalps; everyone looks nice.
Ah, the midnight feast divine with sculptures carved in ice.
One last time enjoy the karaoke or the disco,
the lounge's show, the bistro, or the gambling in the casino.
The ultimate for leisure if you're after more than snoozin'.
In lingo of the laid-back natives, "Mon, you best be cruisin'"

-- Submitted by Andrea Dietrich from Pleasant Grove, Utah





WOOD FENCES OF KENTUCKY

In the heartland of Kentucky, in the bluegrass countryside
Below the winding Elkhorn lie the jewels of southern pride
On the outer fringe of Lexington, white pillars and black gates
Mark aristocratic realms of equestrian estates

Like serpents along the country roads, weaving to and fro
Wood fences zigzag as they did a hundred years ago
Defining thoroughbred pastures, delineating space
Encasing stately grandeur of the acreage they grace

The wood and limestone fences hold the cherished legacy
Of horses crowned with roses in simplistic pageantry
Of chestnut stallions duly bred and bound for Churchill Downs
And supple young Trakehners gently floating 'cross the ground

They house farriers and stables, grand and splendid barns
The stately mansion houses of the old Kentucky farms
The simple pure and wondrous beauty of a mare and foal
Which represent the very essence of Kentucky's soul

The fences that encircle the horse farms that abound
Are deeply steeped in heritage and wonder they surround
The Bluegrass Country glistens still in glory that it yields
And the fences of Kentucky still meander through the fields

-- Submitted by Elizabeth Santos from Pottstown, PA



DANDELIONS GROW AT DACHAU

Peeking out
from slatted stoops and hidden crevices
where bleeding saffron stars shed seed
to grow sure proof of sin.
Bright yellow tufts spring forth,
persisting in their proof of shame
while penitent Aryan grounds-keepers
daily sweep away the past.

No detritus
of the subjugated horde remains,
and wasted cigarette butts and gum wrappers
are routinely sent to
politically correct incinerators
to waft a tame trace of penitent visitors.

Impudent yellow bloomed weeds
wrap their golden blooms in buds,
shrinking away from the grandchildren
of the first garbage burners,
to escape a little longer and defiantly bloom
as tributes to the fallen and trampled flowers
that came before.

Living memorials
profane the sunny blue skies,
where millions of jews were brutalized.
Dandelions still grow at Dachau,
flourishing proof that man
cannot eliminate what God has chosen
to reflect and echo his glory.

-- Submitted by Gerald Bosacker from Dunedin, FL



AFRICA HOT

Savanna grasses
Muted greens.
Not far off
Dinner screams.
Lions' breath
Rising heat.
Melting rock
Rotting meat.
Friend and foe
At water's edge,
Receeding plenty
Nature's hedge.

-- Submitted by Mary Ellen Smith from Whittier, CA



GETTING AWAY FROM IT ALL

We're going on vacation to visit the beach
We'll all be gone for more than a week.
Our bags are packed, filled to overflowing
With flashlights, batteries, and lantern lights glowing.

I've ordered the news to be forwarded each day
Packed all the toys so the kids can play.
We're taking the dog, and both the cats
Instead of leaving them all at the vets.

We've hired a kid to mow the lawn,
But decided to take the houseplants along.
Our water is bottled and packed in the car,
As is a port-a-potty, so we can travel far.

Our swimsuits and play clothes are all in bags,
The kids' swimming floats, separated with tags,
A camp stove is in there, a fridge to keep things cool,
A few books to read before returning to school.

There's just one little thing that keeps nagging my mind,
Am I leaving any trivial thing behind?
If I am trying to get away and be free,
Why am I taking it all with me?

-- Submitted by Cynthia Hammond from Greenville, SC

Home PageRomantic PoemsSad PoemsMore Poetry Categories
Silentwords.com Mobi
View our bigger desktop site