an african queen

an african queen

An African Queen

 Senegal what do I
know of that country

 But I have sailed
past her coast, alas, she

 Is married to Dakar
nothing I can do.

 She spoke French the
tall lady and sounded

Sex, my language seems like a bulldozer

Flattening a Palestinian home so I smiled and

Said little dismayed over my lack of speech

When it imperative to make injustice heard.

Tall she was walked like a gazelle she worked

At a place where she didn`t had to be up

At seven in the morning and anyway she was

Not from Senegal, it was Senegal I loved

My ship doesn`t sail her way, but I whisper her

Name Senegal, Senegal into the African breeze 

the passing

the passing

The Passing

There is always a bridge a San Luis Ray we have to cross on

the fateful day when it collapses, but we are not alone many

others some quite young will also be on that bridge.

We can blame the constructor of the bridge – Haliburton – or

blame the state for lack of upkeep, heavy truckloads or
shoddy

workmanship. And like the friar in the novel by Thornton
Wilder

go looking for an answer; there is none, and there should
not be

any because it is irrelevant on that day whether you use

a rowing boat or use a bridge on your way to Hades; the
solace

 is as in the song
“you will never walk alone.” Sung by Liverpool

football supporters

a portrait of emptiness

a portrait of emptiness

A portrait of emptiness

I got a book sent from a Sunday paper it is in written

Portuguese and tries to tell the story of a man who –

as the folklore goes- was the only person in the whole

world born evil. I look at his face it is early middle aged

and he does not smile the way a politician should and

I do not think his speeches began with a joke.

He wears a windbreaker that has a slight military cut,

the thumb of his right hand is partly hidden by the rest

of his fingers, on his left hand, he has a manuscript to one

of his speeches and behind him mountains and fog.

I stare at his face his body stance and try to detect an
aura

of evil and of his mesmerising personality I see nothing

It is said that when he was nearing sixty years of age he

took his and his mistress`s life, oh yes his name was
Hitler. 

a Winter`s tale

a Winter`s tale

A Winter`s Tale

It was clearing up in the afternoon

fingers of sunlight lit up the olive grove

a slight mist and a bizarre story

I saw him the old man dressed

in a soil dark suit, with a jute sack over his shoulder

 picking up lost
souls.

This time, of the year there is many.

The clouds in the sky have many hues some are black

others rosy

and ephemeral shifting colours with the light,

pushed by the wind

Church bell tolls before noon.

This miasma of ages,

stubbing a toe on the exposed root of an olive tree

when trying to follow the track of yesterday.

It has no future

What was it all for?

Is there a god?

The end is silence  

rainy day sonnet

rainy day sonnet

Rainy Day Sonnet.

 It is so quiet here
in my village when it is raining

 dogs in outhouses are
overtaken by melancholia.

It appears so useless to bark and their dream might

 be of an otherworldly
nature knowledge they are

unable to share the sense that their servitude status

a clown for us to laugh at is not dignified.

Once they were equal to other beings that roamed

the forests and plains the camaraderie of the flock

now their existence is in your hands, and it is a burden

we must carry gently

Yes, light rain makes me moody, my loneliness hurts

yearning for a mythical past, I think like the dogs there
must

be something more to life than sitting in a cabin waiting

for the sun to shine and warm old bones.

passing misgiving

passing misgiving

fire Hazard

fire Hazard

 Fire Hazard

When bringing in the hay that had been

drying on the fields it was fodder for the animals

in winters, the farmer strewed salt on the hay

in the loft, so it didn`t get too dry and self-ignited 

From a devastating war, the refugees fled

the thousand who had lost everything and sewn

valuables into their clothing to be converted into

money wherever they settled, a new start with

a little bit of savings

Europe is an aging continent; we need new blood

but we had not prepared for fire, and it burns

several places, we have to be quick put the fire out

before people of narrow sight take command and

Blood will be spilt for an unworthy cause.

the cloud of abyss

the cloud of abyss

The cloud of Abyss

It was a perfect day cobalt sky and azure, glittering sea

When a stygian cloud came from the east the Lord of Wars

Had spat phlegm spraying us with horror

Inside this monstrosity body parts, headless bodies were

Flying by the noise was unearthly and my little dog

Sought shelter under my coat bought in Hamburg.

When the cloud had passed, I saw a landscape

Devastated as Ypres in the Great War when then as

Know millions of people had died for nothing.

My dog was limp and had stopped breathing I blew

Life back into it and in the terrible noise of the sky

We heard nothing, not even the stillness.

The master of wars was paying us a visit, the peace

We had enjoyed had lasted too long it was time for

Bloodletting, the revenge of the sand dwellers

olive and Orange

olive and Orange

  Olive and Orange

From the years of 650 and onwards Andalusia

Was a tolerant Arabic province, which even tolerated

the Jewish tradesmen pushing their handcarts on

cobble stones and the Christians with their infernal

 bells ringing on Sunday mornings.

The three religions lived side my side in relative

harmony, one can say the following 300 years

Andalusia and part of Algarve was an oasis of peace.

The Arab architecture is still there and in music

one can still hear the Arabic influence not to forget

the poetry inspired in beautiful gardens with running

water and cooling shade, where love was made and

in Yasmin scented afternoons.

Nothing lasts forever the Christian horde came with

their swords -the ISIS of the time- heads rolled in the sand

Andalusia became a Catholic nation, yet the echo of more

 a contemplative time lingers on.

 This story was told to me by the oldest olive tree in the world

 that lives in a valley of orange trees.    

female education

female education

In Europe women have

A better education

And fewer children

Then before when

They were mere housewives

When they all have

Master degrees

No children will be born

And they will have to

Get them from abroad.

The white tribe

Will die out

Just like the hobbit man

my way

my way

My Way

I saw the three tenors sing “I did it my way” mind, the fat one died,

and the two others hate each other and never appear in public if

 they can avoid it. Of the two one looks like an aging matinée idol

the other suffers from being mobbed at school  and looks scared

has nightmares and takes to tears before going on stage.

I still like Frank Sinatra`s rendition of that song better he sang

 it so relaxed with a clear diction and  made me think of a man

with six pack ambling on his way home  he too is dead to

“My Way” is about human hubris we think we are masters of our

 destiny when we are leaves blowing along a wet asphalted road

in the autumnal half-light. 

Thinking back- I can afford to- I never got a thing my way which when

young caused me bitterness the highest prize eluded me kismet knew

I could not handle illustriousness it would have made me look absurd

 a swaggering fool hated by colleagues, on the stage of life. Yet, when

dancing the tango at a nightclub in Buenos Aires 54 years ago the applause

I received still rings sweetly in my ears.   

a love story

a love story

A Middle-Aged Love Story 

Both were in their late forties when they met he had a good job

chief of something important in the world of oil exploration
and

they fell in love holding hands and kissing so much they
needed

treatment for sore lips.

He grew tall, and she swayed like a palm tree in a tropical
breeze

this was love they both been married before and felt like
the god

of amour`s arrow had shot them again painless they thought.

She had grown children he had none when he was 52 the
mortality

knocked on the door he wanted a son she could give him none.

There was young woman nearby and when his wife was visiting
her

he fell on the threshold of her door into her arms, and she
became

pregnant, a love story came to a screeching halt.

 The woman he loved
left, but he had a son with woman he didn`t

 care for, he found
salvation in work she – the woman he loved-

 lived with her mother
in Cote de Azure stuck with an arrow stuck in her

 a heart that no other
man could remove.

Then a knock on her door, he stood there with his child of,
she could not

resist and forgave him loved his child too and they both
lived long and

 when full of years
were blessed with a beautiful death.

a Different Sonnet

a Different Sonnet

A different Sonnet

Sunlight from early morn and not

Far from here the Azores a cyclone

Lashes onto shores and makes the island

Taller and more meagre

Stealing top- soil near the coast and

The rocks tremble, will it not end.

I sit in the winter sun tanning old leather

And not a straw moves in the stillness

I drove down to my little Savannah stopped

And walked a bit and I tell no lie when I tell

You I saw a pride of lions in the tall grass

And a crocodile was eating a deer that had

Come to drink in the ditch.

Time matters here once the plain was a sea

Slow changes we can`t see because we do

Not live long enough, so let me enjoy this

Moment look idly at drifting clouds

Before my savannah turns into a sea again.

three new haiku

three new haiku

 Haiku

Notes of music

Fell into the ocean

Undulating

Haiku

Rain upon the sea

Softly lamented the loss

The conductor died.

Haiku

After great sorrow

Gigantic waves crash the shore

Disharmony 

the semitic people

the semitic people

The Semitic People

I Like the Jewish people lived among them

in Wavertree, Liverpool like me small shop- keepers

and they often came to my café for coffee.

I dislike Israel, because of the brutality and

reluctance to give their brothers the Palestinians

Independence.

I like the Palestinians I have met quite a few in

Portugal and like the Jews they believe in education.

But I dislike the religion Islam

I find it intrusive forever pushing complaining

wanting Europe to be more Islamic, do not take

up this religion keep it to your heart 

Europe needs you, but Muslims have to accept that

they live here and must respect our laws.

I look forward to a merger between the Jews and

Palestinians but it is a long road and

much suffering before they get there.

As it is I defend Palestine as my family once upon

a time defended the Jews

after the concert

after the concert

After the Concert

…And now in the afternoon of my life

my thoughts are about love and romance

these pesky things that disturbed my tough

exterior and made me soft and weepy

when no one looked are now in the forefront

Yes, I`m a sentimental old fool

words of love and music for the heart makes

me cry it loosens the knot of old

resentments and tells me nothing matter in life

except loving someone and not to be afraid

to say so, love is freedom it gladdens the tired heart

and cleanses the dust that has fallen on the wisdom

and truth.

quiet despair | Write Out Loud

quiet despair | Write Out Loud

Quiet Despair

In a besieged town

In Syria

Snow falls

People starves

Children die

We are powerless

 Against

Those who are

Wrong

And those who are right

Snow falls

Silently on

Quiet despair

I think of

Leningrad

my youthful Texas sojourn

my youthful Texas sojourn

A Youthful Texas Sojourn

At a feeding barn near Houston Texas, we drank lone star
beer

and ate giant size hamburgers and king sized hot dogs

Perhaps it is the Stetson hats, but Texans appear bigger
than normal,

but they were engagingly civil towards us and to other
patrons,

armed people tend to be polite.

As beer bottle after bottle were sunk into

 prominent
stomachs  that wearers thought

of as chests, there was this mechanical bull to ride

….3 seconds I lasted on that blood bull.

An enormous woman with a hat big as

a life- boat, took  a
shine to me and

dragged me into the dancefloor, whispered promises of a
lustful nature

something about she riding me till dawn,

 am I a horse?

The lady had to go and powder her nose; she said that 

That was the change for me to get out, take a taxi; she had
a gun in her purse

not a lady to let down.

Somehow I ended up in Mexican neighbourhood and had great
fun

till the rangers came, bulky men oozing of authority   light grey suits and

the ubiquitous hats were checking papers.

A woman of short stature and big heart named Rosita took
care of me

we made love on her mother`s sofa in the living room.

She drove me on board when the air was still dawn chilly and
I polite as

ever promised to marry her, she kissed me gently and didn`t

believe a word of what I said

epigram

epigram

Epigram

Beware of tradition it can be harmful and Intolerant

 Hateful of those who
do not share your way of life

 New ideas will be met
with scorn old ways was best.

 Not true, don`t let convention
steal your freedom    

going home

going home

Going home. 

 On the plain of
Alentejo

sacred green grass ornamented with white flowers.

Rolling landscape and big farms

grazing cattle,

sheep in the shade of umbrella trees.

Rolling landscape I would love to be a stallion here.

Alas, I see few horses and no mares,

but many four- wheeled motorbikes

disturbing the peace.

Cows, sheep and big balled bulls

milk and meat,

time to stop for lunch.

winter of discontent

winter of discontent

 Winter of Discontent

The cloudiness has settled in the sky

And act as an unpalatable truth of the kind

Summer sun so easily hides.

Old dwellings are full of cracks, sagging roofs

And dust on window sills.

Pot-holed roads grey as clay leads from doom

Till the gloom of routine the sense that

Nothing changes life is an endless struggle

 Spring is so far
away.

Then, the miracle happened splitting clouds and

I saw the sun as did the flowers in the garden

Warming my face and let the illusion continue.

balancing act

balancing act

The balancing act

New Year’s Eve how fine it was

Red wine and grilled meat

An exhibitionist dance alone

On wooden legs

Fell into a lake of wine almost

Drowned till someone pulled the plug

And he waded ashore to the strand of

Safe temperance

Today he sits in the corner of the restaurant

A plate of soup and a bottle of water

Around him, tables are full of revellers who

Try to stretch

The New Year Eve just a bit longer.

He looks at the people and wonders

Who will be alive next year?

the hidden kiss

The Hidden kiss

My niece rang from Russia last night

she knows I love her, and she is immensely kissable.

Between us, there is an ocean of age and nothing

impure passes among us, she enjoys being loved

and I feel uplifted when she visits us.

We are two ships sailing in a stormy sea of love

and not colliding she is my sister.

I have often been worried about her when she navigate

too close to rocky shores of the coast that brings

nothing but divorce and heartache.

She sails in calm water now since she met a three rigged

schooner her age, at anchorage in the bay of love

and I think of Edward Munch`s fabulous painting:

“A Kiss by the Window”

desire

desire

The Desire

When I`m hundred years old, I will

not wish for a virgin, namely because

they have no experience just lie there

waiting to be penetrated

I will ask for the best prostitute in town

 One who knows all the
tricks needed to

 get a sleeping giant
stand erect, march into

its last war after thirty years of slumber,

Let a geyser of pleasure, break lose and

flood life lived into a patina of love.

Then blissfully die in the tempting arms of

sexual desire.

the dead awakens

the dead awakens

The Dead Awakens

The elderly man was on holiday up north when he realised

his wallet was at the hotel and in his other jacket problem

 he had forgotten the
name of the hotel.

Luckily he had a few notes in his watch pocket and loose
change enough

to take the bus home, the tour took 12 hours

on a bus that was full job seekers and their children.

At home he remembered the name of the hotel, he rang

 through Skype spoke
to the reception who said “but you

died two days ago.” Do you remember me the old man asked?”

“Yes, said the man at the desk, but you`re dead we saw you
at

the morgue.” The old man took the first flight back to the
hotel he was hit

by a golf ball were a famous golfer was

showed the crowd how far he could shoot from the Eifel
tower.

 The receptionist came
out and said, “I told him he was dead, but he didn`t believe me. “    

Tango

Tango

Forgotten romance

Love is an odd

Emotion

We argued a lot

She did me

Harm

Sleeping around

The drinking

She is old now

Like me

We live different lives

But my heart beats

Youngish

When I see her

She used to colour

Her hair red

Now it is grey

She wears a pony

Tail

And her eyes are still

Sea green

But she was

A lousy tango dancer 

the oasis

the oasis

The Oasis

I was visiting an oasis in the Sahara, with my dog a pointer, but the night

 came so quickly I had to camp in the car, shared my food and water with

 the dog.  I got up before sunrise, wanted to see the birth of morning when

the land of sand turns into gold. My GPS system had failed but I followed

the way the dog was sniffing the air and drove westward.

After an hour of tedious driving, I saw the oasis, a holiday camp for well to

do Arabs, the women in burka and face veil sat on deck chairs by the oases

lake sunning themselves – or perhaps not- the men folk drank coffee and

smoked cigarettes under palm trees and their camels grazed   

I saw a shining object in the sky,  a drone and it fired rockets on the

oasis the scene of peace was obliterated.

Those responsible, the westerner who had come here for oil, said they

were   sorry, they had thought the place was a nest of terrorists.

 A sandstorm was brewing and when it was over there was not a trace

of the oasis, the Arabian paradise in the sand.