Creative Coping


Havana Moon
April 5, 2009, 5:02 pm
Filed under: Cuba, Travel, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , ,

Why am I choked as I

Look up at you

Smiling down on your

Malecon, Drawing the waves close to lovers

making the sea spray

Them with foam

While I sit high up

And far away, over

Havana but not of

Or in her, suspended

Beyond blotchy balcony

And spotless faded sheets

Hanging over windows

Crisscrossed with tape

From the last hurricane.

Need a Cuba Libre, extra

Rum and maybe even Santiago,

To fill this gaping aching hole

Between my ribs that

No sunsetted dome or

Timba drum can fill.

No, give me a bottle of Rum-

Do I miss him or that

Time when I felt

Good about my looks with his on me?

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Poetry in a cafe called Coffee@Bricklane shortly before closing time

 

Sweeping round my feet, no ceremony.

Customer-centric ? What?-

Too close to closing time.

Anyway, this tables’s mine for now,

And on its pink lino I’ll rest

THis little black book,

And a tweed elbow

Like so many others, hordes, in fact,

Vintage with Youth.

 

I’m here now writing, instead

of Yoga or eating, to stop time

And take stock.

Of what? Of myself, of course-

Narcissism or self-awareness I can’t

Tell, self-indulgence, perhaps.

 

‘Soup of the Day was three pounds ten.

Why ten, what’s in it for them?!

Three pound is round.

Rhyming won’t get me anywhere.

 

One day I hope to be above all this.

Taller trees generally have deeper roots to

Counteract the blast of the wind.

 

Blast this music! Always the same

Here at Coffee@, NOISE,

Racket designed to be heard,

No need to listen.

 

Why have I come here

To get myself in tune – all this din.

Well, if I can’t tune here I can’t tune anywhere..

 

Thats it! Back to Kipling,

‘If you can keep your head when

All around are losing theirs

And blaming it on you..’

 

Yes. I’ll keep my wretched head and

Forget regret and neglect

The errors of a self

Lost, waiting for a way out

Not picking up Ariadnes’s

Guiding thread.