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February 27, 2010

[I posted this poem before the terrible news about the earthquake in Chile, so the reference to the tsunami was a complete coincidence.]

Instead I am here
not an amber-eyed sea gypsy
traveling by sunlight, without
a time piece in sight,
floating on tides
always, always,
first to hear the whisper
of a distant tsunami
as the assassin begins
its dreaded ocean ride

Instead I am here
not in Lebanon
with Gibran
making music
wearing only
a jeweled belt on hips
that are svelte, that carve
fertility, life, with the precision
of a freshly sharpened knife

Instead I am here
not there
a soul thieving tune
of delta blues across
a red lit room full of
cigarette smoke and sex
and heat and gloom

Instead I am here
not a velvet-voiced Venetian
who wears her wrinkles
as a sensual choice, only bathes
in slices of light from a half-moon,
who cooks, loves, tends, to her deep
sauce of garlic and ripe tomatoes,
and licks the silver off of spoons

Instead I am here
with you
between the bookends
of a hundred years
with gratitude for the salt
in tears, sweat, and ocean
letting go
learning acceptance
instead I am here,
with you

11 Comments leave one →
  1. February 27, 2010 10:54 am

    ah… ‘not a oul thieving tune… just one of many, many, many gems here. thank you for a marvelous beginnng to my saturday… peace, linda

  2. February 27, 2010 10:55 am

    that should be ‘soul’. and ‘beginning’. written before coffee, which is done… now. peace, linda

  3. February 28, 2010 12:05 am

    Thanks, Linda! And I was totally digging the oul thieving tune. I hope your coffee was good. šŸ˜‰

  4. February 28, 2010 12:36 am

    Love the rhythms, the images and the sense of this poem. You handle the internal rhymes well, not allowing them to become too obtrusive. Very lyrical.

  5. February 28, 2010 12:47 am

    Beautiful concept. I love the repetition of the phrase (the whole music of it). I’m thinking about those hundred years…

  6. February 28, 2010 4:01 am

    Musical. That’s a good word. Also, I’m going to need you to stop spying on me to write your stories. Instead I’m here. But I’m happy šŸ™‚

  7. February 28, 2010 8:21 pm

    Reads very nice. I like the pattern this creates; musical.

  8. February 28, 2010 9:11 pm

    an amber-eyed sea gypsy & as the assassin begins its dreaded ocean ride are wonderful images. I had the notion of the tsunami riding itself as both surfer and wave.

    Great stuff, thank you.


  9. March 2, 2010 1:19 pm

    Lou, this is beautiful. Like a mantra, or a vow.
    “between the bookends
    of a hundred years” is my favourite… perfectly executing the divide of time and space and now.

    It is the adventure of all our lives… we think we could be doing so many other “great” and important things; we think we are “missing out” due to circumstances, but we choose our lives, we choose who we spend our time with, even though we don’t realize it.

    As someone who is planning a wedding, I see these words as earthy expressions of love and explanation. Really purty, Lou, really purty.

  10. March 2, 2010 8:16 pm

    What a beautiful poem full of vivid resonance and sensuality, the possibilities in all of us. Thanks for posting it.

  11. March 3, 2010 6:47 pm

    Thank you all for such wonderful comments. It is deeply appreciated.

    Cathy, congrats to you. šŸ˜‰

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