Ghostbusters poem by Stefano Donno

In a city of bustle and noise,

Where spirits roamed and caused great poise,

There stood a team, brave and bold,

To face the ghosts, they were told.

 

With proton packs and traps in hand,

They ventured forth to take a stand,

Against the ghosts that plagued the town,

And turned it upside down.

 

Egon, Ray, and Peter too,

Winston joined, a new recruit,

Together they fought, with all their might,

To keep the city safe, both day and night.

 

Slimer, Gozer, and Stay Puft too,

All foes they faced, and conquered through,

With humor and wit, they faced their fears,

And left the city, with no more tears.

 

But even heroes, need a break,

And when the Ghostbusters needed to shake,

They danced and sang, with joy and glee,

Showing us all, how to be carefree.

 

So when the ghosts, come around,

Remember the Ghostbusters, who stood their ground,

And if you're ever feeling blue,

Just dance and sing, and let loose too.

 

 

In a town ... poem by Stefano Donno

In a town, small and quaint,

Where snowflakes fell and cars would faint,

There lived a boy, full of cheer,

Whose Christmas gift would soon appear.

 

A furry creature, cute and small,

With big brown eyes and a voice so tall,

But with a warning, he was bestowed,

"Don't feed him after midnight," they told.

 

Gizmo was his name, his joy so pure,

But with just one mistake, chaos would lure,

As the gremlins grew, their mischief soared,

And the town was left, completely floored.

 

They played and danced, wreaking havoc in sight,

With their mischievous minds, they caused quite a fright,

Until the boy, with courage so bright,

Fought back against the gremlins, with all his might.

 

In the end, peace was restored,

And the boy and Gizmo, forever adored,

For teaching us all, a valuable lesson,

To be responsible and make the right decision.

 

So if you ever hear, a gremlin's call,

Remember the tale of the boy and Gizmo's brawl,

And if you're ever gifted, a furry friend,

Be responsible, and love them to the end.

 

 

In the land of dreams ... poem by Stefano Donno

In the land of dreams and schemes,

Where the city never sleeps,

Once upon a time in America,

A tale of friendship and deceit.

 

The streets were paved with gold,

But the cost was steep and cold,

For those who dared to dream,

Were often left to scheme.

 

In the midst of all the chaos,

Two friends stood side by side,

Their bond unbreakable,

Their loyalty never to hide.

 

Through the years they rose,

In a world of crooks and foes,

But as their empire grew,

So did the price they had to rue.

 

The memories of the past,

Haunted them till the last,

For every dream they had fulfilled,

Came with a price that was unfulfilled.

 

Once upon a time in America,

A tale of love and loss,

Where the glitz and glamour,

Masked the emptiness and cross.

 

For in the end, what remained,

Were the memories that stained,

Of a friendship that stood tall,

In a city that devoured all.

 

So let us raise a toast,

To the ones who paid the most,

For the dreams they had to chase,

In a city that had no grace.

 

 

Magic in ancient world poem by Stefano Donno

In ancient times, in lands of old,

Where myths and legends were told,

The world was full of magic and wonder,

With powers that tore the veil asunder.

 

From the Nile to the Aegean Sea,

The power of magic was plain to see,

The priests of Isis, the mystic Druids,

All wielded spells that seemed like fluid.

 

Through the sands of time, their secrets were kept,

In books and scrolls, their knowledge was swept,

But some still whisper of the ancient art,

And the power it held to mend the heart.

 

The gods and goddesses of myth and lore,

Were worshipped and revered like never before,

And those who knew the secrets of the divine,

Could call upon their power at any time.

 

From the spell of love to the curse of hate,

The magic of the ancient world was great,

And though we may never fully comprehend,

Its mysteries will endure until the end.

 

For in the power of magic lies,

The hope and faith that helps us rise,

To face the challenges of life with ease,

And find the courage to follow our dreams.

 

 

Amidst the sands of time and space ... poem by Stefano Donno

Amidst the sands of time and space,

A tome of secrets lies in grace,

The Book of the Dead, a sacred place,

For souls to find their eternal embrace.

 

With hieroglyphics etched in gold,

Its pages tell tales of old,

Of gods and pharaohs long foretold,

And the journey of the soul's unfold.

 

The weighing of the heart, a daunting test,

As Anubis, the jackal-headed, does attest,

To see if it is light as a feather, at best,

Or heavy with sin, and thus must be suppressed.

 

In the Duat, the realm of the dead,

The soul must pass through gates ahead,

And recite spells to ward off dread,

And protect against the monsters' spread.

 

But fear not, for there is hope,

As the sun god Ra helps souls to cope,

And guides them to the afterlife's scope,

Where they may find eternal elope.

 

The Book of the Dead, a guide for all,

To navigate the underworld's thrall,

And reach the promised eternal hall,

Where the soul can finally stand tall.

 

Oh ancient tome, your secrets still inspire,

As we seek to understand the afterlife's attire,

And ponder what awaits beyond the fire,

When our earthly journey does expire.

 

 

 

 

Stalking (inspirational poem about women victims of violence) by Stefano Donno

Amidst the pain and sorrow,

The violence that they've known,

Women stand up tall and proud,

Their resilience clearly shown.

 

Though they have been abused,

And suffered at the hands of men,

They refuse to be silenced,

And rise again and again.

 

They may have been knocked down,

But they refuse to stay there,

With every breath they take,

They rise up from despair.

 

Their courage is a beacon,

Their strength a shining light,

They stand up for themselves,

And for all who suffer in their plight.

 

They band together in solidarity,

To fight for what is right,

To end the cycle of violence,

And bring an end to the night.

 

They are warriors of justice,

Their spirits cannot be tamed,

And they will not be defeated,

For their power cannot be named.

 

So let us all stand with them,

And lend our voices to their cry,

For a world without violence,

Where women can soar high.

 

 

The Futhark holds the secrets of old ... poem by Stefano Donno

In the runes of ancient lore,

Lies a magic deep and pure,

Carved in stone and etched in wood,

The Futhark holds the secrets of old.

 

Each symbol, a gateway to the past,

A key to the wisdom that forever lasts,

Through time and space, its power endures,

A mystery that always reassures.

 

From the Norns' threads to Odin's eye,

The runes speak of legends and more,

Of tales that once were lost to time,

And the magic that lies at their core.

 

With every stroke and every line,

The Futhark calls to us in kind,

To awaken the magic that lies within,

And let its ancient power begin.

 

So let us heed the call of the runes,

And learn the magic that they impune,

For in their wisdom, we will find,

The secrets of the ancients, entwined.