Italy was to much to write about. The rest of my life has been really, realy not fun.
So instead of filling in the people who read this on my feelings, here is something Iwrote for English awhile ago:
The Spy:
A Collection of Poems by Patriot Charlotte GreenePROEMIt was not till then
That I knew fear. In him
Was conspiracy.
SONNET I: THE BEARDWhile stopping in a coffee shop,
My eyes fell on a man. His face was pale and his beard was red.
He seemed at first quite innocent, but I took the time to stop
And look, and see, that he was thing that we all dread.
His beard was not the only thing,
It soon came clear to me, that was tainted cremesino,
For o’er in the corner of the café din, I could clearly hear the ring
Of “L’International.” The Paper that was in front of him must have been the manifesto.
Sitting peacefully in front of us, just as me or you (to the untrained eye),
Penning secrets for the mother country,
Is he who would have mars ruling our free, blue sky
And Stalin’s hand in every sweet, free mother’s pantry.
All around us, in every shop, office, school and park,
Is the vast and curl’d beard of Karl Marx.
THE LETTERSO’er my shoulder,
I saw a furtive keystroke.
He did not see me.
SONNET II: THE DOCUMENTSFrom the lion’s den, I record the actions of this man.
Just now, I saw him turn a page, his notes scratched illegibly,
He types, I know, of the whispers from the river Rio Gran’.
He must have conspirators, this information wasn’t free.
I bear my duty with mounting fear,
But this man I must report. He may look like harmless in his tweed,
(For the innocents witnessing this crime, I must shed a nostalgic tear)
But his domestic appearances were designed to mislead.
He mails the final document; his face remains quite taciturn,
And the stealthy man crumbles his papers in weather’d hands.
The details of his plans I need to learn,
But how? The evidence vanishes into his bag, like messages in the ancient sands.
The wind battles, bristling with new chill, in the trees
As this agent packs and leaves.
Current Music: Rufus Wainwright - Oh What a World