I’m late for the theatre. Luca guiding us
down still lanes, I recline, dip a hand;
cool, sunless flow. Bleached palaces
pass, lovely homes of merchant sires.
In a damp brume, the night is falling.
My departure was recorded by spies,
Luca says, off to alert their masters
the lord-in-exile has left his quarters.
Lanterns lit, we are crossing the city.
There's a monotony to these streets
I don't dislike, and it keeps off tourists.
I shall probably stay the winter over,
though the local girls (and boys) are
not to my taste. My familiars and I
make our own society. But from what
future have I tumbled, a modern heart
drifting in backwaters. Drinks aboard.
Tonight, a single cup of wine. I have
given up meat, and English company,
both hazards to health. Serenissima,
beguiler, you've drowned the moon.

Comments
Ewan | March 15, 2010 - 07:40
mmmmm... rich and sensual. Brume... lovely.
kheldar | March 15, 2010 - 10:11
Agree with Ewan but would add "intriguing" and "stimulating", it leaves me imagining the back story and where the future will lead.
Kheldar :--)
lenchenelf | March 15, 2010 - 16:30
O, but Lord B was a bit of a scamp wasn't he ? Like the feel of this atb Lena xx
tcook | March 15, 2010 - 17:10
This is our Facebook and Twitter pick of the day.
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Ewan | March 15, 2010 - 18:08
This is entirely deserving of the above accolade. A quality poem.
insertponceyfre... | March 15, 2010 - 18:33
I really really enjoyed that. I am writing Venice on my go to very soon list right now. It's everything above and more
bosch | March 15, 2010 - 20:49
chant: Very nice. A do think you get into a succession of short sentences that tend to jar the rhythms of your poem and that just a few commas instead of periods and the poem would read better. As always a finger pointing to the moon, and not the moon itself, perhaps
I'm late for the theatre. Luca guiding us
down still lanes, I lie back, dip a hand
in the blank water.
and on down,
Armenian lessons tomorrow. I learn it
because it is difficult, passing time
in the City of Water.
and again,
and it keeps off the tourists. I shall
probably stay the winter over, perhaps
even take a male lover.
I'm not sure about "It's a life's work,
flouting sumptuary rules."/
And perhaps,
Tonight, I shall take them alone. I have
given up meat, and English company,
both hazards to health. Serenissima,
beguiler, you have drowned the moon.
To your attention. Swep
chant | March 18, 2010 - 08:59
hello Ewan, thanks for reading and commenting, brume should be something one eats i always feel.
chant | March 18, 2010 - 09:00
thanks Kheldar. :-)
chant | March 18, 2010 - 09:01
right on the money as usual Lena, thanks for reading and commenting.
chant | March 18, 2010 - 09:01
thanks for the fb and twitter pick, Tony!
chant | March 18, 2010 - 09:03
thanks for commenting, ipfnh!
chant | March 18, 2010 - 09:09
hello Swep, thanks very much for your thoughts, yes, the full stop came into fashion in a big way with me at some point, don't know why. have started to edit the poem, and in the process, have followed many of your punctuation suggestions, along with cutting the sumptuary rules line.