useless waterways

Useless Waterways It is a long river goes on till water meets the sky and as I have no oars have to follow the waterway till the place when all things are the same Nirvana, some people say other calls its nothingness. But there rivers that run into the sand never given the chance to flow and dream of becoming a Nile or an Amazon.... Stillborn they are. The lucky river runs deep underground and has fish with no eyes and frogs white as new fallen snow. The river ends up in a lake where fishtailed women live. If you stop and listen you can hear the lake sigh and the river throbs, it never misses a beat. Mermaids have no uterus cannot bear children and lament that sex is more important than babies.

Abortion

Abortion When my mother was pregnant with me, she was too poor to get an abortion and it was also against the law in those far away days. My aunt gave her the advice to try skipping Luckily for me, mother was not very athletic and I was born. Abortion should be legal, as a human right but I think a woman should think long and hard of the world she stops the unborn from seeing

blood in the sand

Blood in the Sand There is a war in the Middle East people against people in the name of Islam, chop heads of one another like it should be a sporting prowess and then holler Allah. I’m sick and tired of these people who have mindsets that are 300 years behind us how can we have a sensible talk with such persons who in the name of their god kill anyone, mostly them for reasons one has to have a 300 years old mind to understand how they can accept their blood thirst done in the name of an abstract god. And then there is betrayal they are forever betraying each other to the enemy. But it wasn’t always thus and we must accept we have made it worse. Yet there are Jordanians, Palestinians, Syrians, Persians and Arab -Israeli (the Jews and Christians not) too who are not like the cruel of sword swinging Muslims we read about, they are the people who can bring the unrestrained, wild -eyed backward people to book because I’m exhausted of defending the indefensible.

Foreigner in Portugal

Foreigner In Portugal At the local shop I met an elderly woman, mind most of the women I meet are elderly but this one was primordial, she dropped her bag when seeing me and exclaimed is it true you have two hearts? Not wishing to disappoint her I confirmed rumours she had heard. I even let her touch the battery just under my skin. Nothing keeps a secret in a small village, it appeared they knew before me, the doctor who did the job came from farming stock, perhaps he rang someone. Odd people live here, those who were young when I came here have middleaged children now, but forever I’m referred to as the English, telling people I’m from baccallao land is met with a smile...I’m English so there.

oil change

Oil Change I’m not a poet never was, but I like to tell stories Most of the stories are for my inner ear, But for some reason my collections are called poetry. I’m a practical chap, just changed oil in my car and Filled up the coolant, which is pink coloured. Later I will drive to the local garage and see if the tyres Have the right amount of air, and then clean the car. When I write about carob trees and my special tree The almond, which in my mind, strews flowers on mine Fevered often walked track, I do so in tenor like oiling The hinge of a door or hammer a long nail into a wall, Nothing can be less poetic. In Kaleidoscope once I saw My future lover’s face, can that be called poetry?

umbrella of love

Umbrella of Love. If you drive along the asphalted narrow road that runs Parallel with the vine plants, turn left, you will see A muddy road more like a track now after rain, From here you have to walk till you see a quiet little Corner where two stone walls meet; and you will See- not a great deal- the place I’m going to plant A carob tree comes spring. The reason for the corner Is two brothers who couldn’t agree who of them it Belonged to so they left it untended and with time No one took an interest in weeds and stinging plants. The tree will be in memory of a girl a met a day of rain And she shared her pink umbrella with me. Not a big thing, but I was home from the sea and lost In the big city she gave me the shelter I needed.

sea lion

Sea-Lion I saw a seal in Durban big and sleek and its smile Was wondrous, I think it had green eyes, right, But I’m not a very god swimmer and is sceptical Of water, mermaids and swimming pools. By, chance I saw a sleek woman cleaning a pool And it was morning, she had green or blue or Perhaps brown eyes of the type lionesses have When a lion, has caught a prey it has to give it Up when hyenas come around. Conquests are a hyena’s fare, but it lacks delight And the ability to laugh. The seal from Durban I remember so well, had a hearty laughter and A smile “thousand miles.” Am I getting confused Talking about lions and seals? Not at all but it was A female and she sat my heart aflutter.