A Visit To Rome - Poem by Sheena Blackhall
When I go down to Rome
It's stimulating, of course,
A change from gathering olives
Or walking behind the hairy arse of the mule
When the spear goes into the breast of a gladiatrix
I miss it, fiddling about with a sandal strap.
`Gaius, you're such a stick in the mud'
My cousin Flavius says.
It's true. Digging me out of my certainties
Is just like dislodging grit from a stone wall.
The lions' roar's exciting, I must allow
But I prefer an evening walk through olives
Leaves' whisper, and a sky studded with stars.
The powerful Senate's too much like the sun
Drawing ambitious moths into its flame
My land is too far off for scrutiny
My ploughshare cuts across no Caesar's veins
Comments about A Visit To Rome by Sheena Blackhall
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You