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]

VIENNA :: dawn

Dawn peeks out from the morning clouds
The air is still and silent,
Birds soar high and bells toll loud
The sky is glowing violet

The great palace of green and gold
Sits basking in the splendour
A hundred monarch have built this old
Site that would us render

Awed as I sit beneath cold grey skies
Beside the palace doors
As the sun peeks up to rise
Shining on a realm of lords

It is quiet, empty, cold and clear
The birds hover in frosty air
Ignoring the immense and sheer
Palace, standing tall and fair.

[Written 15/12/16 when I accidentally arrived at Schonbrunn Palace before it opened]

LAUSANNE :: neutrality

Soaring mountains,
Silent lakes
The fog settles like frost
On a morning’s day.
Chilling silence,
Crisp cold air
Wide open streets
Young and fair.

Switzerland,
Your neutrality
Trickles down
To actuality,
Your streets are clean
And calm, tis true,
But I feel like I’m walking
In a hotel room.

Where is your
Atmosphere?
Why is it bitter
And frosty here?
The roads are empty
And too wide,
Ever coldly twinkle
The Christmas lights.

[It’s called Lausanne but it could also be about Geneva, and Switzerland generally. Written 12/12/16 at Geneva station.]

BARCELONA :: Gaudi

I
was
never
interested
in architecture.
‘Pretentious’
was the
word
I
had
thought
it would be:
empty jargon in
place of
art.

But that
was before I saw
the Spanish maestro’s masterpieces
blurring the boundaries between
natural and artificial,
imagined and real,
forests and iron
next to each
other
living in
harmonious juxtaposition
like a tessellating
pattern on
the
tiles
beneath
our feet.
Twists and
curves and smooth
carvings make majestic
buildings ripple in the morning
light, stretch the
bounds
of
our
imagination,

pit surreal against
logic and always come
out the stronger.
Tree trunks
support
false
ceilings
and leaves
wrap themselves
around to form railings,
chimney tops,
transform
from
ugly poles
to whimsical shapes
on an undulating rooftop
overlooking a city
as vibrant as
a
sunset,
as calm as
lapping waves on beaches.
Smooth curves and
winding stairs,
vibrant colours
splatter on
facades.
Do
you say
architecture?
I say
art.

BARCELONA :: Oxymoron

Incessant sunlight
And wide streets
Barcelona,
You fascinate me
A jungle of buildings
Flashes of colour
Yet golden sand
like perpetual summer

A beach city
With azure waves
Crashing on sand
In hazy days
Yet just beyond
Is an urban sprawl
Alleyways and
Graffiti walls

Hidden bars
And quiet lanes
Clothes hung out,
There is no rain.
Scattered parks
Bring welcome green,
Trees and hedges
‘Tis quite a scene.

And yet rising
like a mighty wave
Crooked edges,
A living cave
The architect’s
Masterpiece
Is for the eyes
Quite a feast

And others spring
Up in the city
Twisted curves,
White-washed pretty
Roofs and a
Ginger-bread-like house
Rickety pillars
Made to astound.

Surreal landscapes
Amidst the plain
For this, Barcelona,
You are famed
Yet I find you
A paradox,
Where luxury mixes
With stray dogs.

[Written 8/12/16 partially in an unknown garden/park, partially in Park Guell]

BARCELONA :: Sagrada Familia

A thousand spires,
A million bricks
Eternal blood and tears.
Soaring towers
Towards the sky
Allaying all my fears.

 

Tall tree trunks form towers
Standing resolute
Emanating powers
Of Heaven, God and truth.

A hundred years,
And then ten more
Before it is complete,
But even now,
Its splendour’s clear
For all the world to see.

The afternoon sunlight
Shining through stained glass.
Countless colourful rites
In a hall vaulting and vast.

Breathless silence
Reverent gazes
Behold with awe, and stare
At the height, the might
The majesty
Of this precious place of prayer.

[Written 8/12/16. Apologies for the hiatus in posting.]

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]