#santiago
For Santiago,
we danced with toros
and we gleefully played with fire.
We fought for our turns
with passion
before the sparks expired.
In each turn
we spun our bodies
like those bamboo wheels
of fire.
We set our souls aflame
and burned down our desires.
Aug 1, 2023
Aug 1, 2023 at 1:55 PM UTC
Santiago set out to catch some fish,
He sailed out further, then had his want
And waited patiently with the prayer and wish
With the remorseless lament.
For awhile the boy, Malolin
Joined this ole man, to learn fishing
But the old man was, so dreary and weak
Weak enough, to let go months resting.
Manolin was a a fair young kid,
A kid of twelve or more
Santiago was an old man,
A man of eighty four!
The boy got annoyed,
And decided to leave
Thinking the old man,
Was disgruntled to perceive.
But one fine day, when the sun smiled at this case
The old man tried to set off his dismay
He thought to go fishing & get his bait
Like he did so happily, in his boyhood days!
He set out, set again and caught some fish
He sailed out further, and had his want.
He saw a birdie, leading him to sea
He caught more tuna, and one bigger fish that fullfilled his want.
He relished the tunas, the sea offered as gift
He loved how yummy, yummy it looked.
But hardly noticed the deep line,
the bigger fish had something big on it, that may further get him hooked.
He used a small line,
To snug a dolphin.
That had in it two small fish
They hid it it, Shining and smiling.
He fought his need for sleep and fatigue,
Of constantly keeping hold of line
Before he saw the bigger fish,
Suddenly circling his boat's outline.
He assumed the fish's weight to be twice of his boat
He stabbed the fish with a masterstroke.
He used his hope to the utmost
Tied the fish to a side of his boat,somewhere thinking to take it to shore.
He let the current have him whole,
Fearing the sharks might sniff
Sniff the blood off the big fish,
In some hours or just a jiff.
The first shark took the hefty bite,
Before he got stabbed by Santiago's harpoon,
The second one took just a quarter bite,
But before these two got dead soon, they took with em the half harpoon.
The old man fashioned a yet new harpoon,
Fixing the knife to an oak stick,
He used it then for the sharks to come,
But , oh! It split on a new shark's skull click.
He fought, and fought, but oh, at last,
The old man won, with the major loss
He returned to the shore in moonlit night,
& Found the fish just had a residual skeletal mass.
He reached the shore, with tears of remorse
Oh, how bravely did the old man fought!
Though it was a ' Victorious loss'
He thought while dragging the mast to shore while Monolin came running, discussing how he fought.
The boy smiled at the bravery, the old man showed,
He smiled at the old man like he saw a hero,
He hugged him tight, & smiled in delight
And called Santiago, 'His brave hero'!
And so you see , this sad story
Ends
Santiago tried to help himself,
But he needed the help of his
Friend,
To provide him with some worldly wealth.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 5:21 PM UTC
May the road rise up to meet you
As you travel on THE WAY
May the music in your heart
Untangle the worries of your day
May old dreams be tossed
Upon that pyre of strife
And personal manifestos of peace
Ascend to take on life
And when the night closes in
Anxiety and bliss compete
Remember growth is hard my friend
Some truths come incomplete
In the meantime:
May you step easy o’er the rocks
That appear on The Way to defy
Keep in mind your destination
To reach that far-rimmed sky
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
For my craving, satisfy me
of this spicy, loathsome
inclination of my restless soul.
You, from the Caribbean Sea--
Santiago, let your
ambrosia signifies of how
your people colloquially
refers you, as "Rock".
Santiago, a refuge
you were once for the Jews.
As desirably firm as you are,
abolish me of these crisp desires
for they renders me with nothing,
but mere pertubation.
Oh Santiago, obscure me
inside your dry rain - shadow
areas, relatively.
For a while, conceal me
so I may somehow be
healed of this tempestuous outburst.
Sing me a lullaby, Santiago.
With such unique culture
of yours, infect me.
To be vibrant, and
to become Jamaican.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:39 AM UTC
I’ve passed a little more than time
While I wore my feet to naught
A hundred lives have been and gone
For what I’ve seen as sport
We trace the steps of ages spent
When men were more than fiction
Simple lives and simpler minds
And faith their true addiction
I’m in a place where stories take
The power of the cross
And though the spires may steal my breath
I never felt the loss
For on The Way I took as mine
A shell and wooden limb
And parts of people, gifts so rich
Made my treasures small and slim
I’ve shared myself with men I’ve made
But will never know from there
I don’t feel sad because I knew
It’s not the whom but where
I’ll never find another day that feels the same as this
The time I’ve spent with just the steps; a special kind of bliss
When all there is to fill your head, the rhythm of the road
Your wishes and your broken corpse make light your mind and load
And now I will be much the same
In the before, the now and then
But there’s a trail within my eyes
That leads me back again
Each sunset and each moon reborn
Is on its own Camino
And every way will one day take
Me back to Santiago
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC