An Afternoon in Italy



In Italy, the lovely golden rod grew
between the old bricks of reddish hue.
A butterfly emerging from its cocoon,
circled and swooped all afternoon.
Finally landing on a spidery old sleigh,
so affordable because I found it on Ebay.



© By Cara (Cara617@aol.com)








A Walk With Little Jake



Walking to the mailbox,
with little Jake,
he spotted and old pile of bricks.
“Look grandpa, fuzzies,” he said.


“Just old three hole bricks,” I replied.
he began to investigate,
lots of dewy cobwebs were there,
lots of weeds had sprouted.


I looked, smiled and pointed,
“Look Jake a cocoon,”
with glee he investigated,
“A wooly worm a sleeping?” he asked.


Dew was on a spider web,
saw a spider too,
I moved him back,
the two of us, just looked.


Jake picked me a posy, well a weed,
I began to sneeze,
golden rod it was.
Hand in hand we walked to the mail box.


“See my new shoes grandpa?” he asked,
“They were made in Italy,
goat leather my mom said,”
as he tried to lift both feet.


He got up and laughed,
“Mom got them on E Bay,” he said.
Then he looked up at me,
“Why don’t people sleep in cocoons?”


About then we rousted a
big old jackrabbit.
Jake did chase him
that jackrabbit was gone.


I gave him a peppermint stick,
I too had one.
We got the mail and on the way back,
we saw creatures in the clouds.



© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)








Walking Through a Field of Golden Rod



Walking through a field of golden rod
She tripped and fell on her face
Skinned her knee something terrible
Her stockings were an awful disgrace


She took the stockings off to see
If her knee was bleeding or not
She started crying and weeping
She wasn't feeling so hot


She had tripped over an old brick
Whatever was it doing there
Along came a man to help her get up
Has handsome face she was aware


He spoke with an accent she liked
Sounded like from Italy
He pulled something off her dress
And laughed out loud with glee


A cocoon had stuck to her clothes
Must have gotten there when she fell
He asked her where she got it
She replied "Maybe I shouldn't tell"


"Oh come on," he laughed, "Tell all."
She thought up a little lie
"I found it on ebay....."
He laughed again he was that kind of guy


She asked him to come home with her
"I could make breakfast of eggs"
"No thanks," he replied
"I don't date someone with spidery legs"



© By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)








Ellis Island



They have renovated Ellis Island to its natural state.
The old bricks have been returned to their original look of that period and date.



Once the halls were filled with spidery webs and dusty memories of the throngs that passed there from distant lands.
They came by the thousands from foreign soils and far away sands.



Little babes wrapped in cocoon type blankets and old weather worn folks in soiled and worn clothes that matched their tired faces.
Through Ellis Island they passed with dignity though put through many trials and disgraces.


Grandpa came through those gates from Italy hoping for a better life in the shelter of that Grand Lady who said with silent lips...."Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"


He reached for the golden rod of freedom that She handed down to those humble masses though tired, homeless and poor.


The other day I was searching for the names of those that passed through the gates of Ellis Island during that period in time.
I found it on e-bay, a document that was one of a kind.



© By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)








Butterfly Ballad



Elmer meant to birth some butterflies
He brought home cocoons from school.
He tucked them into the refrigerator,
His father called him a fool.


It was in Italy, Tuscany, to be exact,
When he fell in love with butterflies,
“Stemless floating flowers,”
Was what the poet decried.


Golden rods were abounding
On the lovely Italian hills,
Elmer was a sensitive sort,
With a joy that butterflies filled.


He sat on an old brick wall
Wouldn’t even go out to play,
Monarchs, Bluewings so jewel like
Completed Elmer’s day.


Back home the cocoons were ready
To do what they were about,
Elmer awaited anxiously,
For the jewels to make their way out.


Poor Elmer, all he found one day,
Was a pile of silk, they were gone,
He was pulling apart the spidery threads,
When his father right then came home.


Look, son, what I got for you,
And he gave him a butterfly net,
“I found it on e-bay, for you have waited so long”
Elmer sobbed with such tears father’s shirt was wet.


The story’s not as sad as you think,
For father and son held each together,
His father’s love for Elmer assured,
He could face any of life’s weathers.



© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)








Walking The Pathway



walking the path way of old bricks
my spidery veined old legs
still holding me up straight
thinking upon a time
one night in Italy
when I walked nude
into my lovers arms
his beautiful body
glistening
as a golden rod in the moonlight
in passion we become one
tightly wrapped as if in a cocoon
I chuckled thinking
I could have it all once more
if I found one old Italian on Ebay



© By Dreaming Pat (DreamingPat@aol.com)








Walking The Pathway



Winter in a Cocoon



Let's spend this winter in a cocoon.
Just you and me and the moon.
We'll build a room out of broken sticks,
Held together with duct tape and old bricks.
We can hide in a spidery basement.
In the south of Italy where I never went.
All wound up in our little pod,
We can decorate with golden rod.
"Where'd I get this idea?" You say?
I looked and found it on E-bay.



© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)

















         

 

 






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