Casanova Poems

Nothing is given which is not taken.

Little or nothing is taken which is not freely desired,
freely, truly and fully.
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Tom said, ” My! Dearest Friend Hick,
Why do you appear so weak and sick?
Do you have any major stress? ,
You seem to be in a great distress.'
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~ Ma Mama Ma Mama Ma Maaaa! ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
23 November 2010
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Who are you oh painter?
How are you smiling?
Under the beneath of cracked cloud,
From whom you have got power?
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Didn't you like the way the ants help
the peony globes open by eating the glue off?
Weren't you cheered to see the ironworkers
sitting on an I-beam dangling from a cable,
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Nautical boundaries of your mind
Elapsed beneath the time frame
Of your wondrous consigns
Noteworthy for applauded brain game
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Walking down the solitary lane
He kept on searching for the beautiful dame
For many years, as harsh time went,
Loneliness destroyed that sensuous scent
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A ride in his car
all girls wished
To fly up in the sky
he never missed
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In my most recent path
upon stumbled beauty and opportunity
my eyes met her with a friendly greeting
it was like when an eagle spots its prey
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Where did my soul wander in the fields of time?
As I pondered,
At the slip, sliding of time,
Memories like an old movie reel,
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Numero Un:

To have and to hold,
A Midas,
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I walk lamely
I stutter when I speak
I forget things easily
names, dates, places.
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I swing my heart on Vivaldi's ‘Spring':
Blissfully I dance amongst the flowers!
Echoes in the ether—violin on strings,
And I promenade at rosy twilight-hours.
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Said Hongray de la Glaciere unto his proud Papa:
"I want to take a wife mon Père," The Marquis laughed: "Ha! Ha!
And whose, my son?" he slyly said; but Hongray with a frown
Cried, "Fi! Papa, I mean - to wed, I want to settle down."
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The Chance Operations Of Short History And Features Of The World Literature Into Verse Paragraph
20 January, 2019

World literature is sometimes used to refer to the sum total of the world's national literatures, but usually it refers to the circulation of works into the wider world beyond their country of origin. Often used in the past primarily for masterpieces of Western European literature, world literature today is increasingly seen in global context. Readers today have access to an unprecedented range of works from around the world in excellent translations, and since the mid-1990s a lively debate has grown up concerning both the aesthetic and the political values and limitations of an emphasis on global processes over national traditions.
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A wig Of Casanova.

Lucifer became so clever -
Dreamt of a wig Casanova.
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The bonds that
In which, she took ample pride
So much like
a wilted blossom, too early died
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Here you go playin' with my heart again-
Practicin' your second hand devotion-
Stirrin' me into a lovin' hope again-
You're playin' with my emotion;
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A word reminds me why I feel so less than strong
Struggle as I feel I can't stand up ever so tall
A way leaves me feeling much less bolder
Yet I know that I'll never be like a Casanova
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the chinese
portrait painter
boasts
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Whereby I confessed being guilty
impossible mission to escape accusation
of prurient transgressions
wrought transformation and self condemnation
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who rules the heart
who captures heart
who captures hearts
with Casanova lines
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In me, the shroud is removed from judgement
The spare room is prepared for traveling judiciary
Did you expect a description of judges to include theirbrowser history?
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Give me compassion and passion
Give me a heart in love fashion
Where on creatures big and small I pour love
Whether love flows from my my heart or from above
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Who are you oh painter?
How are you smiling?
Under the beneath of cracked cloud,
From whom you have got power?
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Shopping and fashion
Screaming babies
It's just not my seen
I keep away from the ladies
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Just tell her to go and be done with it!

I know all about your dirty little secret, oh yes
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I was a runner up in the game of life, a third rate, ‘also ran'.
A 'c' plus or 'b' minus, superfluous to the plan

Making up the numbers, an extra in the scene
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As he looked into her eyes,
Whispering softly,
Into her ears,
the same old lies,
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The seat of the pit of my stomach aches by mistake
When like a fool in blue without a clue
I allow bites, blights, plights and slights
Of wily wool to benight my nights
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