Categories
Poems

The Rope Fence of the Pastel Houses

The Rope Fence of the Pastel Houses was a poem that I returned to many times over the years.  One draft then another then another then another was discarded.  This poem was probably reworked more than any other poem that I’ve ever written, with the exception of one which is called The Corner of Farm and Lincoln Rds (and which is still not finished).

The poem tells of a young man going on his way along a pretty road where he meets others and sees the sights.  I imagine it to be set in New England, perhaps in an area like Martha’s Vineyard.

The poem rhymes and is written in blank verse.

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The Amalfi coast, Italy.

I pass a seashell of no significance
as I follow the curves of a whitewashed fence
and the uneven coastline of the sea.

The fence is jagged, hardly even, somewhat ragged,
with braided rope in place of slats,
stretching further than I can see.

Above my head, squawking shrilly, are hoary seagulls on the wing—
circling, circling, flitting, snatching, snatching at a crust of bread
then aloft again to form a ring.

And in the distance, softly scratching their stemmed backs upon the posts,
are coastal grasses, likely latching their seeds upon white painted posts,
for the wind to blow and foster breeding.

To my left are pastel houses, built on stilts with reading nooks
and oriels for those with books
to put their backs to while they thumb through pages of Of Mice and Men.

While from a cattail, singing sweetly, warbles warmly the gentle wren
Brown and round and barred so drably, yet still considered very fair,
The pleasant wren makes moving music then flies upon a gust of air.

I continue on my road to fortune, whistling with the wandering wind,
Getting there as quick as those folk who have in mind no certain end,
And speaking with an amiable neighbor, I’m kindly told a thing or two
That when traveling over any distance, it’s but common sense to enjoy the view.

Categories
Limericks Poems

Sunday Limericks

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Jakob Bogdani – Scarlet Macaw in a Landscape

A Sea of Trees
There once was a fabulous sea
Whose waves looked like summery trees
There were breakers like ash
Whose foamy leaves fell with a crash
Amid a forest that ebbed and flowed mistily

The Scarlet Macaw
There once was a scarlet macaw
Who had but a single real flaw
It became the happiest bird
When it would shout a curse word
And leave the polite people in awe.

The Lazy Artist
There once was an artist from Chartres
Who loved but one thing more than fine art
And that was to be as lazy as hell
And for that he slept long and well
So his magnum opus he never did start.

Categories
Poems

Sea Haikus

These are three haikus which observe a syllable count of 5 – 7 – 5 in their lines.  They follow a tradition of using clear language to describe nature, then bridging to a related image.

Claude Lorrain - Seaport at Sunset
Claude Lorrain – Seaport at Sunset, 1639.

Pearl Morning of Mist
Pearl morning of mist
Clipper ships in the harbor:
Undressing lover.

The Harbor Air
Rough, coarse, salty air,
A fragrance smelled from far-off.
Hot stew in kitchens.

Under the Sea
Undersea lie ships,
Sunken and decomposing:
A bottle’s settlings.

Categories
Poems

Blue

Blue is a poem about the first time that I ever went abroad.  I went to Malaysia, then put my impressions into couplets.

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Lamu, Kenya.  November 2014

Along Malaysia’s white sand lies a cerulean ocean,
blue until the water touches the blue sky.

Endless blue: water speared by luminous scales of fish blue;
shoreline women stating fashion, blue silk against brown skin;

and the wiry blue line on the fishing reel: long-sleeve, thin
white shirt, rod held swaying over water on a cobalt night.

Along beaches, at restaurants, folks hawk blue,
so even the paper lanterns glowing yellow seem sapphire.

Night and day stumble blue, snagged between purple and green,
and the sun moon tides roll between cerulean and steel-grey blue,

their waves flecked with white foam,
and even that white tinged ultramarine.