UKArchive ID: 36415

Sea Breezes and Passsers-by
by nemo
Originally published on April 8, 2016 in Poetry    

To what end, from Mallarmé’s example,
do I now assemble
thoughts of sailing somewhere
I shall never know and,
arriving, discover was never there?

For better the hell of where I am:
on my unCarribean island awash with cars
rolling up the motorway and rolling back;
with these – not melon-smile neighbours that doze
on their porch – but surly sods
making a quid round the back,
or banging home from the pub,
as I settle for the monotony of British grub.

To what end, Baudelaire, in your sonnet,
did you once celebrate
eyes that met, paths that crossed
in a Parisian street,
your glimpse of a woman you might have loved?

For better the hell of who we are:
bricked into ourselves, in rooms of our own,
not knowing, not seeking, other universes;
not being over the road, drawing curtains
on mistresses’ afternoons;
not jumping universes
to outlive the rollers’ run,
or fuck the impossible arrayed in the sun.

© nemo (Nemo on OLD UKA)

UKArchive ID: 36415
Archived comments for Sea Breezes and Passsers-by

Mikeverdi on 08-04-2016
Sea Breezes and Passsers-by
This is pure brilliance Gerald, please accept my nomination. Good to read you're words again.


Author’s Reply:
Thanks for the nom, Mike. I'm pleased you like it.

Cheers, Gerald.