Blue, so Blue

Blue, so Blue

      we look to the skies 
   for hope and to renew 
our definition of pure blue. 

along a caribbean shore, 
beautiful sky and water 
   help paint a picture. 

   somewhere nearby, 
      it must be at the 
edge of paradise. 

      we have to listen 
   for an angelic choir: 
sweet birdsong reward. 

   we can look around 
      and miss so much; 
we cannot see it all, 

   we like to think 
      we are so big!
      in truth, 
we are so small! 

sometimes we do not 
      feel the beauty 
that surrounds us, 

   appreciating little 
      of this world, 
destroying so much! 

      we cannot win 
      if we destroy 
our home, our world 
   with so much foolish joy. 

chattering monkeys 
      without long tails, 
make so much noise,
   such awful smells. 

      we look to the skies 
for hope and to renew 
our definition of pure blue. 

along a caribbean shore, 
beautiful sky and water 
   help paint a picture. 


somewhere nearby, 
      it must be at the 
edge of paradise. 

      we have to listen 
   for an angelic choir: 
sweet birdsong reward.

Murano Lane

i could not walk
a single step

further alone.
but she was there, 
beside me 
all the way.


unusual heat
dogged our steps,

so cold drinks
and ice cream
saved our walk.


in the heat,
we walked at
a slower pace.

nearly deserted
ancient ways.

we walked in
near silence
through nearly
empty squares,

past abandoned
lanes and alleys.


even shady places
were too hot,

but they had amazing
glass sculpture.


so we had a gift,
very special to us,
as we had suffered
in order to see.

Last Blossoms

we saw feral roses 
blooming by the lake,

nobody pruned
or watered them
in recent times.


never a weed
but not without
sharp defences,

their blooming
season almost
in the past,

they did impress,
demanding a bit
of attention from 
a photographer.


my photograph
triggers memory.

and that's good,
as i get older,
sometimes i can
use a bit of help.




Empty Museum

in an empty museum,
on mikonos,
a guard sat alone.

in such a place,
i wondered where
the tourists were,
they were not there.

our lonely guard 
stayed nearby,

answered questions
until he realised 
he was a guard,

and went back
to his desk
beside the door.



thousands of years
of ancient history
has left captivating
artifacts suitable
for a museum.

but i remember
the only visitors:
they were us.


Ancient Warrior

Ancient Warrior

carved by an
ancient craftsman

on a pottery shard,
dressed to kill,

but now is gone,
for all the good he did.


his helmet on his
foolish head,

a shield he wore,
but now he's dead.

two spears he had
to go to war


and now he's dead,
will fight no more.

the battle that he
could not win.

death comes for all
i've heard it said.

and long ago
it came for him.

Rhodos Garden

not far away,
from the seaside,

a garden grows under 
a row of old arches.


a mediterranian sun
warms this world.

a flock of tourists
may outnumber
the raucous gulls.


on the horizon,
distant shores

cause us to strain
our failing eyes.


i stare through
cataracts,
almost able to
see those islands.

and then these
vivid gardens
under the hot sun.


out in the harbour
a cruise ship awaits.


and looking back,
eight years have ago

i see the memories 
have faded but the
pictures help 
me remember.



Beside the Sea

tourists come
in swarms
like locusts,


sometimes even
stripping bare
ancient olive trees.

souvenirs are 
always in demand.


roads so narrow
delivery mini-trucks
need room to pass,

pedestrians will
squeeze  tight 
against store walls.


in a store, a bowl
carved, she told us,
from an ancient
olive tree.

and walking back,
we saw seaside
businesses, places

you might sit
and drink coffee,
with new friends or old.


didn't test the water, 
expected it was cold.

Narrow Streets

narrow streets
and narrow minds!

these streets 
aren't straight;
they wind 
and wind.


people come
and people go.

some walk fast and
some walk slow.

it doesn't matter
who you know.

it seems there's 
room for all.


predators walk
down our streets;

you see their 
nimble bodies;
you'll never 
see their souls.


in all the streets,
in all the worlds,

there is no refuge
from these evil minds
and evil souls.


the time is past;
it always is,
when we can
protect ourselves.
 
they're predators
and we are trapped

on narrow streets
by evil minds.


these streets 
aren't straight;
they wind 
and wind.


 

Pompei Wall

Pompei Wall

a volcano on top 
of the mountain, 

they may have 
forgotten the sound, 

vulcan awoke, 
beat his anvil, 
blew smoke, 


and then the 
earth quaked
 
and land rose up 
out of the sea.

harbour went dry, 
temple walls
fell awry,

huge boulders rolled 
down from above


builders were called
to repair as they could

but the earth was not
finished quite yet.

a rumble and roar,
the crater blew up.


hot ash just flew
down the slope.

smothered and burned 
(vulcan's offerings 
spurned).


now we look 
and wonder
everrything is all 
thrown asunder,

the walls, they fell down 
all over the town.

it came down 
with a roar.
vulcan hammered
the floor

they didn't 
understand then,  


we don't understand 
it much more.

The Corner

at the corner of 
someplace 
and nowhere, 

between tomorrow 
and yesterday,

this corner's my home 
and i'm not alone, 

this corner is 
home for you too.


where is this place 
where i've fallen?

we've been learning
this place our 
lives long,

it isn't something 
we can understand.

this isn't a place 
that you find in a song


at the corner of 
someplace 
and nowhere, 

between tomorrow 
and yesterday,

this corner's my home 
and i'm not alone, 

this corner is 
home for you too.