I only allow myself
to be half full of Rome
untill nightfall
The ancient streets
are filled with mortal sins
of the modern life
In the shadow of the street lights
I take off my sandals
kneading my heels into the cold cobblestones
pressing my palms on the old walls
Now
I let the saints and ghosts
fill me with the rest
A scarlet rose in my hair
A bronze raven at my feet

Fascinating poem … and If only walls could talk …?? (I wrote a poem about that .. would you like to me to send it)
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Yes please
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Ok … It’s not on my blog-site ..
“If Only the Walls Could Talk”
It’s true you know,
Walls can talk.
So, I’ve been told,
By a beautiful Rose.
You’ll have to listen,
Listen very closely.
Put your ear against the wall.
Use a stethoscope if you must.
Listen to the wooden heart,
Standing proud and tall.
A rough soul rendered smooth,
Layers of paint, every hue.
Covering up dusty memories,
Of hearts lost, through years of cavities.
Like the old Wailing Wall,
You’re walking along a history hall.
Your secrets, one and all,
They’ve heard every gasp.
Your children’s moans,
And your lover’s groans.
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A great poem!
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Thank you Cassa … it’s an oldie ..
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Oldie golden!
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Oldie Goldie!
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Haha lots of gold 😊
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This is lovely Cassa. Well done my friend. Love you ❤️🤗Joni
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Thank you Joni. Your comment makes my heart sing. 💚
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You are welcome. It is well deserved Cassa. Have a blessed week. Love ❤️ Joni
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I like your description of the streets being filled with moral sins.
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Yes, that line jumped out at me too.
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This is so beautiful. You’ve captured that ancient essence. Lovely! 🙂
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