Poets Portal -A Beacon For Being

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Comment by Suky Cannon on July 25, 2009 at 5:19pm

Though my poem words are just bursting to be
put to paper, my pen is not moving lately.
So instead I offer you one of my favorite modern poets;
David Whyte.
This one reminds me of the wind...

Working Together

We shape our self
to fit this world

and by the world
are shaped again.

The visible
and the invisible

working together
in common cause,

to produce
the miraculous.

I am thinking of the way
the intangible air

passed at speed
round a shaped wing

easily
holds our weight.

So may we in this life
trust

to those elements
we have yet to see

or imagine,
and look for the true

shape of our own self,
by forming it well

to the great
intangibles about us.

-- David Whyte
from The House of Belonging
©1996 Many Rivers Press

Comment by Suky Cannon on July 2, 2009 at 12:51am

Spanish Waters by John Manesfield

SPANISH waters, Spanish waters, you are ringing in my ears,
Like a sweet, quaint piece of music from the grey forgotten years;
Telling tales, and weaving runes, and bringing weary thoughts to me
Of the sandy beach at Muertos, where I would that I could be.

Oh the sunny beach at Muertos, and the windy spit of sand,
Off of which we came to anchor while the shipmates went a-land,
Where the blue lagoon emptied over snags of rotting trees,
And the golden sunlight quivered on the brilliant colibris.

We came to port at Muertos when the dipping sun was red,
We left her half-a-mile to sea, to west of Nigger Head;
And before the mist was on the Key, before the day was done,
We put ashore to Muertos with the gold that we had won.

We bore it through the marshes in a half-score battered chests,
Sinking, staggering in the quagmire till the lush weed touched the breasts,
While the slithering feet were squelching in the pulp of fallen fruits,
And the cold and clammy leeches bit and sucked us through the boots.

The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down,
All the spoil of scuttled carracks,all the loot of Lima Town
Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of perished crews,
Gold doubloons and double moydores, louis d’ors and portagues,

Clumsy yellow-metal earrings from the Indians of Brazil,
Emeralds ouches out of Rio, silver bars from Guayaquil;
Silver cups and polished flagons, censers wrought in flowered bronze,
And the chased enamelled sword hilts of the courtly Spanish Dons.

We smoothed the place with mattocks, and we took and blazed the tree,
Which marks you where the gold is hid that none will ever see,
And we laid aboard the brig again, and south away we steers,
Through the loud white surf of Muertos which is beating in my ears.

I’m the last alive that knows it. All the rest were took and swung
In chains at Execution Dock,where thieves and such are hung.
And I go singing, fiddling, old and starved and castaway,
And I know where all the gold is that we won with L'Ollonais.

Well, I've had a merry life of it. I'm old and nearly blind,
But the sun-dried swinging shipmates' chains are clanking in my mind.
And I see in dreams, awhiles, the beach, the sun’s disc dipping red,
And the tall brig, under topsails, swaying in past Nigger Head.

I’d be glad to step ashore there, Glad to take a pick and go
To the lone blazed coco-palm tree in the place no others know,
And lift the gold and silver that has mouldered there for years
By the loud white surf of Muertos which is beating in my ears.

Comment by Pete on June 11, 2009 at 1:38pm

Yet another chestnut: The lyrics to the previously posted track "I'll Never Follow the Sun" (see my home page for MP3).

I see your face in the morning when I rise
And though you're not really there, my love
I would like to think that you cared, my love
It's those quiet moments we shared, my love, that keep playing on my mind.
I see your eyes in the morning, your blue eyes
And now that everything's said and done
I can't help it if I cry
'Cause now that you're gone, I'll never follow the sun.

I see your smile in the morning when I rise
Now you're smiling for someone new
Guess I never meant anything to you
And all the lies that I saw through just kept me hangin' on.
Now I'm alone every morning with my songs
A little stronger, I'm on my way
I've been more or less of a man
But now that you're gone, I'll never follow the sun.

(chorus)
How many times we've been together in my mind
Nothing, nothing ever stays the same
And though it seems like a change in the weather tonight, girl
I can't help singin' 'bout the rain.

Now I'm alone every morning with my songs
A little stronger, I'm on my way
I've been more or less of a man
But now that you're gone, I'll never follow the sun.

This one actually got recorded in a proper studio. I'd love to know what happened to the master recording after my partner died. I still believe in this song even though musical styles have changed over time.

Comment by Pete on June 10, 2009 at 12:11pm

Change of plans. I couldn't attach the MP3 to an email because the file was too big. I'll try uploading it to my SeaKnots page.

This had better be worth it.

Comment by Pete on June 10, 2009 at 12:04pm

For now, I'll do you one better -- I'll send the MP3 as an email attachment. Enjoy, and please pardon the goofy sounding intro on the track. (Remember, it was just a demo.)

Comment by Suky Cannon on June 10, 2009 at 12:02pm

Am I going to get to hear this one during the O'day Rendevous... I like it !!!

Comment by Pete on June 10, 2009 at 11:50am

OK, I'll go out on a limb and post another one from the band days -- one that, unfortunately, never got recorded beyond the demo stage. So it goes.

BUTTERFLY

Butterfly sings all alone, a simple melody
Softly wings appear to flutter by in harmony
So far she flies away from home
Before the noonday sun she flies alone

In the early morning hours warmed beneath the sun
Singing, dancing through the flowers ‘til the day is done
Sometimes you stop to say hello
And sing of love felt long ago
Then spread your wings to go, little butterfly.

Dreams are made by lovers long before they find their way
Life is too short to be lonely, love, but it’s okay
The time is right to try your wings
You make the morning bright, the dawning spring

Will you come again tomorrow, won’t you change your mind?
Taste the sweetness of the nectars you have left behind
Once more before the summer’s through
I’d like to spend some time with you
And love you when I do, little butterfly.

Say goodbye, you know September clouds are full of rain
I can’t look for sunny weather when each day’s the same
You know I’ll miss you when you’re gone
But I can understand it’s time you travel on

Soon the browns and golds of autumn leaves will start to fall
Will your heart be that much colder, will I hear you call?
No rainbow colors I can see
As skies hang grey in sympathy
And I just can’t be free like a butterfly.

MP3 to follow.

Comment by Suky Cannon on June 10, 2009 at 11:49am

brings back lots of memories Liv...zipping along the back roads of western Connecticut in MG3. Great, thanks..!

Comment by Liv on June 8, 2009 at 9:53pm

This little piece was written when I was on one of my solitary drives in my British sports car. The weather was wild.. high winds, stormy skies, leaves flying and I was also flying along, racing my little Spitfire along a winding country road. It was a wild ride...
Later that day I found out that I had been driving through the winds of hurricane Juan, which happend to take roofs of buildings while I was enjoying myself in my convertible car.

The last drive of autumn
By Liv Haasper

There’s no doubt about it. Fall has arrived in the northern community. The chill of frost hangs in mid air and a strong wind howls across the corners of the old barn. Leaves are brilliantly coloured in shades of green, yellow, orange and red, tumbling down into the interior of my little red sport car, my Triumph Spitfire.

It’s a vintage convertible, the ‘other’ love of my life. The old rag top is still folded away in the hope of one last open top drive of the season, wind blowing in my hair, breathing in the fragrance of the land, inhaling the musky smell of rotten wood, the fragrance of freshly cut hay, watching the changing colours of the sky while gliding along a long, winding road. To drive, just drive…..

I refuse to accept the fact that I have to put my little summer companion into its shelter for the winter season. I cherish the last warm days of autumn. I slide into the familiar seat, the place I belong, caress the leather- covered wheel, start the engine and listen to the deep rumble. We’ve both been waiting for this moment.

She’s alive and ready to go. I sense the excitement of both machine and I, the joy of running against the wind, powerful and strong. Leafs are tossed at speed and I’m flying with them, branches swaying wildly to the chorus of the howling engine, trees bending in humble acceptance. I’m reduced to a speck, a molecule, under the wing of Mother Nature’s wild fury..........and love every single minute of this wild ride. I tilt my face into the already darkening sky, into the chaos of clouds and debris......and expect to be picked up by the storm, Spitfire and I, and catapulted into the ditch that is running beside the spinning wire wheels. I long to be covered up by the leaves and twigs until the next summer, as not to face the long winter ahead without my dear little car.

The wheels keep on turning and the engine is purring the old familiar song while we continue driving through the swirling landscape. Great flocks of songbirds have gathered in front of me and scatter away with fright as I slice through their midst without mercy.

When evening closes in on us, I finally find my way home. I watch the geese leave their northern breeding grounds, heading south, while I wonder if I should follow. Drive down that winding country road; make my own path to a place where the warmth still lingers for just a little longer. But, my heart is in the North Country. I’ve learned to accept the changes of nature in this challenging landscape. I’m content in the knowledge that snow will soon arrive and my little car will rest comfortably in a cosy, dry place during the long dark hours of winter.

We’ll both prevail until the first days of spring, until we drive again, my Firefly and I.

Comment by Liv on June 8, 2009 at 9:43pm

Hello Louis and Suky,
I just read this.. have been out sailing until rain forced me home.. LOL

I've been writing since I was a kid. I've been into all kinds of art since I was a kid. Published a bit of it in the news letter I was editing and in a magazine I was working for.
However, most of what I've written ..so far.. has not been sailing related and, English being my second language, it's probably more of challgenge for me to put my musings into words.

I'm going to copy something I wrote a while ago for the news letter I was editing.

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