EUROPE :: goodbye

It’s almost Christmas! Which means this poem was written almost exactly a year ago… how time flies, aye?

When the wind splatters
On windowpanes
Obscuring Christmas lights
I watch the drops,
Count my blessings,
And prepare to say goodbye

My time in this foreign land
Its mysteries and its myths
Have come to an end.
Almost six months,
A dozen countries,
Memories like grains of sand.

So many times I’ve sat
In awe at splendid sights:
Churches or black bleaches
Colosseums or the Aegean sea
Casinos or perfumed bottles
Castles or rollercoasters

I’ve seen the world here
Beyond my wildest dreams
Braved new frontiers
Crossed a thousand borders
Met strangers and parted
Met friends and parted

Lived in a city
Surrounded by strangers
Spoke a language
I had only heard in classrooms
Walked in darkness and rain
In burning sun or snow fields

Learned to love company
And to be gloriously alone
To live on the edge
Of organised chaos
Each splendid day
Merging into paradise.

[Written 27/12/16 in Reykjavik]

ICELAND :: monochrome

The surface of an alien planet
Frozen in a thick fleece of snow.
Black dots of lava
Stretch into stark desolation,
A blizzard of white
Smothering grass
Decorating trees
Flat and lifeless like the
Surface of the moon.

Jagged pieces of snowy glass
Pierce the cratered surface.
Sheer, white-peppered mountains
Puncturing the sky, calm and grey
As the land, so that
It’s not easy to find the horizon
If it exists.

Then like mirages they appear,
Around a rocky corner,
Smooth and tumbling waterfalls
Plummeting with a roar
Into icy pools, then snakes away
Like a frozen dragon
Off to find its lair.

But it treads into the path of
A dragon of fire, and from their fight
Great plumes of smoke
Explode roaring from the depths
And bathe the land in
Endless fog.

When at last the watery dragon
Finds the ocean,
Its fury whips up waves
Roaring and rolling towards the shore
Like an ancient army
Out for vengeance,
Clawing at the sand,
Rising high in might and
Thundering down like a symphony,
Unceasing in rumbling noise.
A constant battlefield
Between the land and sea.

The wind howls bitterly at the stars,
Buffets at all in its path
A cruel and biting cold
Rubbing skin raw, stinging eyes
And the weather turns
Like a merry-go-round.
Flurries of snow descend from heaven,
Thick drops tossed around
By the playful wind,
The world blurring into
A mass of raining foam.

The next morning all the snow
Has melted, icy footprints
Vanished into the air.
The calm before the storm
Is like a dam about to burst.
Heaven’s showerhead
Torments mercilessly
The wind dances in joyful fury
White the sun hides in bed.

[Written 26/12/16 in Reykjavik]

HELSINKI :: a long pier

At the end of a long pier
There is a platform
Out in the middle of the Baltic Sea.
A panorama of calm water
Lapping at frozen shores
Dulled beneath grey clouds
Moving incessantly,
Hiding secrets.

This platform overlooks islands
With bare trees and white snow.
There is a fortress,
Grey snow-capped stone walls
Forbidding entry.
There is an island with red buildings
Backdropped by snowy hills
Like a fairytale.

The silence is consummate
Save for the water
Against the rock
Or the mumbling of the
Occasional boat.
There is no other movement
From bird or man,
Just still black water.

Behind me, the main island
Has parks covered in white magic
And dark leafless trees
Await their rebirth.
Colourful buildings weather the cold.
It is a small place yet always
There are people going for walks
Alone, with a dog, with a lover.

HELSINKI :: winter

Snowflakes hover in the air
Riding gently on the breeze
Then settle cozily in your hair
As you try not to sneeze.

Winter coats the rooftops white
And streets are painted with snow
Helsinki is a beautiful sight
At dusk with lights aglow.

Those who brave the biting cold
Venture to the harbour
To the marketplace with items sold
I look upon with ardour.

Beyond, ships dock beside the shore
Seeking shelter from the sea
This cozy place, this is the core
The ocean is the key.

The buildings, painted yellow walls
And white roofs, welcome me in
As winds howl and winter falls
I am glad to go within.

COPENHAGEN :: enigma

Cyclists speed past
In a blur.
All black,
Head to toe,
Hair fanning out,
Turning off from
Main roads into
Lanes called home.

On clear days
The sky is
Brilliant blue,
The harbour’s colours
Shine in the
Canal’s reflections
Where yachts are moored,
Masts high.

But when it rains
A curtain of fog
Descends upon
The city
And across canals
The distant blur
Of blinking lights
in the mist.

Copenhagen,
I am not sure
What to think
of you
There is great beauty
By harbours and
In parks,
Along canals.

But you have
Blank windows
And unmarked
Houses,
Uninspiring roads,
Few cosy streets
Save lovely
Sidewalk cafés.

 

Maybe it is me –
I have not seen enough.
I do not appreciate
Your charm,
I ask for too much.
But in the end I wonder
If there is something
Missing.

DENMARK :: to be or not to be

To be or nor to be?
That is the question
As the sun glows orange,
let that be a lesson

The world is a nutshell
And infinite space
Stretches out before you,
If you’d care to pace.

The castle of legend
Basks in sunlight
Roofs and green turrets
Against the blue sky

Hundreds of windows
In neat little rows
Looking out, a prince
That’s how the story goes

Behind red curtains
Within draughty walls
Are murders with poison
Or death by the sword

A prince in the night
Saw spectres and ghosts,
Fell into madness,
He who loved most.

He balanced life and death
On the edge of a sword
Paralysed with the weight
Of killing his lord

His friends became spies,
His dearest turned mad
Drowned in a river,
Too young and too sad

Fragility of life
Against almighty death
In his hands is a skull
That once drew breath

That is the story,
It is not true,
But I sit and gaze,
As is my due.

By the famed castle
Towering above
I write about Hamlet
With whom I’m in love.

This castle was his,
Where he lived and he died
By poison and sword
With a friend by his side.

Goodbye noble Hamlet,
Prince of Denmark,
On literature and myth
You’ve left your mark.

Yet Elsinor stands,
It always has, and will.
The birds soar past turrets,
I watch, sitting still.

[Written 1/11/16 in Helsingor, Denmark, home of the castle that inspired Shakespeare’s Hamlet]

NORWAY :: travel by train

The train rolls by
Tracks smooth and silent
Across a stark and wild land
Where forests reign
And rivers flow
And towering snow-capped mountains stand.

The trees rush by
Outside my window
Their red and yellow hues aglow
Squat red houses
With slanted roofs
Warmly prepare for winter snow

Leaves of gold
Encircle lakes
That shimmer like molten silver
And like a painting,
The reflection
Makes trees look like they shiver.

Beneath grey clouds
And stifled skies
Mountains are streaked with gold
And burgundy
Amidst wild green
As days slowly turn cold

This enchantment
Greets my eyes
As I rush by on metal wheels
A cushioned chair,
Bent over a table,
Riding tracks of steel

I will return
Another day
To walk alone in wild landscapes
When skies are blue
Sun never sets
And people swim in crystal lakes

But now I leave
For neighbouring lands
With little expectation
With no regret
For I will return
To this stark and beautiful nation.

[Written 25/10/16, on the train between Norway and Sweden. I’m afraid I couldn’t take any good photos while on the train, so hopefully the words will be enough.]

OSLO :: wind and ice

Norway is a country
Ruled by ice and snow.
The wind bites sharp,
The skies are grey,
The leaves shiver with cold.

In autumn golden colours
Dot their mighty forest.
Houses red
Amidst green and cold,
A plethora of colours.

The lakes are vast and grey
Like silver marbled floors.
The flat surface
Ripples with
The wind’s howling calls.

Oslo sits at the mouth
Of a mighty fjord
Its houses grey
And lifeless
Its boats in harbour moored.

The roofs are black,
The buildings stand cold,
Still and silent
Ominous
Few people are so bold

To brave the biting wind
Though it is only autumn,
The snow falls
In high mountains
And days begin to shorten.

Oslo I found bleak
And grey with little cheer
Museums crammed with history
A culture based on beer

The streets are straight
As though cut with a ruler
Daylight seems
Perpetually dimmed
and each day grows cooler.

This is farewell Oslo,
I don’t think I will return.
You were kind
But you lacked life,
For me you were too stern.

[Written 25/10/16]

OSLO :: the harbour

Soft light shines on
Steel blue waters
As gulls hover
Beneath murky skies.

Ships sit breathless
On a shimmering stage
Silent, waiting,
Flags raised high.

Autumn colours
Have come again,
Trees shine gold
On dull green carpets.

The wind is constant,
A sharp cold bite
But powerless
Against the rafters