I confess the title of this post is a lie. I did not go swimming and the moon looked its normal size to me. However, the event did prompt this poem.
SWIMMING WITH THE SUPER MOON
She asks me if I can see it from where I am
a balcony overlooking Meadfoot Beach
I confess my ignorance of the whole event
and no it is not visible from up here
She walks to the tideline with her friends
and they best foot it into the bay
their laughter carries on the air
we resume our conversation sip cava
Until the pink speckled tardy moon
arises from a bank of cloud
it looks the usual size to me
the water reflects its beauty
and life does not get much better
Some poems, I think, are more like sketches of memories. That is certainly the case with this. An opportunity to celebrate something beautiful. Oh, cava [pronounced Ka-ba] is a sparkling wine from Catalunya , I am assured by Catalan friends that it at least rivals a good champagne. Here's a revision of one of the poems from last post.
listen, I’m not maudlin
ever since you ghosted me
I don’t think of you that much
but I thought I saw you today
by where your office used to be
when the sun was in my eyes
it was only when they spoke
I realised I was mistaken
that it was some other clown
in last year’s suit
attempting to be authentic
which was a whole lot more
than you’d ever done
It's still not there yet and quite frankly it may never arrive. Away it can go for a long while.
Yahia Lababidi has just started a new Youtube channel full of good poetry and recipes! You can watch it here.
I am ashamed to admit I missed the release of a new album by Lizzie Nunnery and Vidar Norheim. It sounds amazing. you can order it here.
Until next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment