I thought I would go out on a limb here and post one of the rare poems I’ve written. While visiting Delos, Greece this summer I was struck by the windswept, barren beauty of the deserted island. The winds at the top of the island’s mountain must have been 75-80 miles per hour, but I kept pulling out my notepad to jot down little phrases of inspiration. When we got back to our boat I pulled them all into this little poem. For all of you rhymers out here- I can’t rhyme to save my life. I think I must have missed out on that gene.
Ancient staircase to the gods, rambling up the mountain,
lilting, cobbled, strewn with orange lichen.
Bridal veil of a wedding long since past,
steps loose, cracked, weather beaten.
Cracked terracotta trampled into earth,
pale cactus luxuriating in a corner.
Pot shards crunch under feet,
cicadas’ arguments pierce the wind.
Delicate periwinkle blossoms triumph,
o’er parched and gritty thorns.
Spiked purple stalks clamber up long-dry wells,
faces burned by the sun.
Forlorn columns stand eternal sentry,
merciless winds defacing statues.
Silent lions brace themselves,
witnesses to time’s mosaic.
So, do you write poetry?