José Carlos Solimeo on Murals with the Arma Chri…
Amazing how the soil when ploughed, accords again with all the hues of green and brown, like sky and cloud with all their shades of greys and blues. Advertisements
The foam of waves and smell of pungent brine, of cigarettes that scorch a greyish beard. That is a life for sure I would have cheered instead of this I’m floating on the Rhine.
If I may choose, I’d look to right, the left is sinister. Dark is the muse of fiends of light and Satan’s minister
The country’s law dictates that I, the German flag, prevail. But I concede as beauty goes: the Dutch one gains the hail!
Mere Pomp and much pious ado Seems the way to godly communion To kneel and to pray in the pew Gives us space and time for the union
The lips that touch me long and sweet With rapture and with glee May kiss a man in passion heat But will return to me
To be so high and dry is sad In snowmelt though, the river grows And living water to me flows The lapping water makes me glad