Meet me in Magaya
on the hottest summer day
in your yellow sundress
and fedora straw hat
Let’s cool down
by the windows
watching the ferries
coming into Paros Bay
while sipping Sangria
and Watermelon Agua Fresca
Pink blossoms whisper to the suntanned mosaic street
without disturbing the cat’s siesta
under the blue and white island breeze
I bottle the sunshine at Trevi Fountain for you
hoping the bitter cold melts at the corner of your mouth
like a child savours a limone gelato
The happy sun, the story telling clouds, the birth pain pink sky were inspiring.
Landscapes pulled me over with their outstretched arms along the highway. I read my book by the cows and sheep sharing their green pasture; I drank by the brooke with rainbow lorikeets; I hid from the storm under sugarcane plantation; I yarned with the locals at the grocery store.
The smell of the artificial ocean air refresher, dark roast coffee, MacDonald’s Happy Meal in the car brought me back to reality.
A road trip made my mind escape into the world outside the car window, some real, some imaginery, the rest was just an uninspired poet trying to make the most of a recent event.
在那里
忘了时间
忘了世界
深深地沉蕴在那里
历史的长河在呼吸间
显得格外亲近
当年诗人的情怀
似乎还如明月般
打动我的心
独醉在傍晚的暮色
情动在深夜里沉眠的水流如镜
薰香唤醒了迷醉的我
炊烟在潮湿的晨雾里推动我的泪
留恋那里与世无争的沉静
正如我默默思念的你
There
time is invalid
the world is far away
soaking in the long river of history
feeling close in one breath
The poets before me touch my heart
like a bright moon
drunk in the evening twilight
mesmerised by the still water
like a mirror reflecting my rest
The incense wakes me up in the morning
Cooking smoke brings on my tears in the moist morning mist
Nostalgia for the peace and quiet there
as I silently miss you
I only allow myself
to be half full of Rome
untill nightfall
The ancient streets
are filled with mortal sins
of the modern life
In the shadow of the street lights
I take off my sandals
kneading my heels into the cold cobblestones
pressing my palms on the old walls
Now
I let the saints and ghosts
fill me with the rest
A scarlet rose in my hair
A bronze raven at my feet
The Living Poetry visual prompt
There is something about packing up your bag
to travel away from all things
unresolved, unresolvable, underserving of resolution
There is this escape to
an unknown, unfamiliar, understating place
where your story is new, fresh, mysterious
worthy of all the attention from strangers
The you on a travel trip
is you
is the you never expressed
isn’t you
isn’t the you known most of your lifetime
A plane carries you away
to a land of wonder
only you define it to be
when the troubled waters
flooded home
(Photo by Stephanie Katz)
Flicker of Thoughts 