"cayman" poems
A jet-ski, jetty bound, disturbs the waves,
While not too far away, on the seabed
Lies the hungry blacktip and hammerhead,
As a nurse explores the undersea caves.
Harvey wouldn’t capture Marlin here,
Just a glance of turtle, seaweed green,
Gasping at the stuffy air, marine,
Gazing at a sunset he should fear.
The sharks hunt for prey in mere hours.
A flock of ching-chings squawk away,
As mosquitoes come out to play,
Darting between darkening flowers.
Through mosquito nets I take a peek,
In oasis that I realise,
Snuggled in a palm tree lies
A curled green parrot, sound asleep.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
We forgot to make love last night,
yet again like many other nights
we remained distant islands separated by
Bermuda's of bed sheet and air.
The body wasn't very happy
Those thousands of red cells inside you
divided and redivided in anger
Ached and oozed and broke free
from your restless
When I woke up this morning,
I found you lying in a pool of blood.
You decided to go to work
After all it was a Friday and
the long weekend was a week away.
You take too many iron supplements
I fear, one day your body will be so full of folic acid
that it will cry.
We have the Smokies lined up for October
and the Cayman Islands in Christmas
Thinking of planned vacations makes me go to work
every day
Even though I ****
so bad
that I'd rather open a book store
and read all day
and sell a book or two.
My life is still all about you
After all these years
I still couldn't kiss that woman who
asked me on a coffee date at 10 pm by the lake.
or the one who found me cute on our album by the dressing table
You would say "Go ahead , we are not married yet".
I would laugh when I am alone,
thinking of the all the things you say
these days.
You say all the good things in life needs planning
marriage, kids,
buying house on mortgage
convertible sport coupes
vacations in South Pacific.
I find it ironic that I met you on a book store
when I cancelled a TGIF party and had this sudden urge
to buy Alice Munro's short stories.
We were sweet, back then.
Now you lie,
about being anemic on your weekly routine checkup
hide,
your biopsy report soon afterwards;
lie again,
on the reason of your sudden cancellation of the planned vacations for the year end
saying it's work.
Then you disappear, terrify me
Only to come back strands of hair gone from your head
still say nothing,
yet finally disappear saying nothing before I could buy us
the last vacation together.
I regret how much we could have done
together
if we made love more often
my body healing yours
resting, soothing,
purging all the enemies.
On the day when we supposed to be married
I visit the Caymans
laughing alone in a crowded beach
thinking about all the things you used to say these days
having Alice Munro's short stories for company.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
"You're looking fit," she said, the words sliding off her tongue.
"Thanks. So are you."
It was a cold walk up to the oak door
and my nose was red from the wind.
Sun Meadow. That was her neighborhood.
A little optimistic for my taste.
Five, maybe six, people I graduated with lived on her street.
"Where are your parents?"
"Cayman Islands. They usually go somewhere tropical
after the holidays. I would've gone, but work... you know."
"Yup. No time for fun."
"You wanna smoke hookah?"
"Sure. What flavor?"
"Don't be silly; house mix, always."
She loved the "house mix."
It was a slightly overbearing concoction
of apple, banana, and melon flavored tobacco.
I ran my hand through my hair to dissolve the snow.
Her mom was an interior decorator, so I was surrounded
by obscure, obnoxious, and expensive trinkets from
God knows where.
I sat on a bar stool and watched her make the bowl.
Her moves had gone from graceful to inept
just as she had gone from goddess to **** in my mind.
She set the hookah on the bar and inhaled.
Then it was my turn.
It went on like that for five minutes or so
as she looked me up and down.
Every once in a while she would lick her lips
or lean forward to expose even just a centimeter more of her *******
"So who's the new ****
"Beg your pardon?"
"You heard me," she spat.
"My left or my right, depending on how many notes
I've taken that day."
"Ha ha, very funny. How long's that been the case?"
"A week or two. Maybe three," I quip.
"Restless yet?"
"That's all I've ever been."
Ashley was never tactful.
She showed her hand too fast, but she
bet so little it made no difference.
She was also never virginal.
People often romanticize their first time with stories
of secret escapes or innocent awkwardness.
I was never like that and Ashley appreciated the monstrous
control and possessiveness I wrapped around my *****
I took what I wanted, she told me.
She liked that, I guess.
She knew a couople girls I had been with--
they'd shared their "stories" with her.
Stories of how I'd ripped the innocence from them,
the thrill,
the wall slamming,
screaming,
cursing,
the painful entrance,
strength,
weakness,
and finally
the out-of-breath finish
where I left them feeling like rag dolls.
Or so I'm told.
She liked that.
Craved it, even.
So, I let her have it.
May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
There is no place for me here
Where they dream of comfortable lives
Talk about football and weekend plans
Holding hands as they walk down aisle four
Split the grocery bill then drive home to his place
That will someday become their home
And oh how we wanted to travel and see things
Skydive, mountain climb
Travel to Africa, build houses, learn languages
And just be
But then that job offer was too good to pass up
And it’s so much easier to raise a kid with family close by
So we put it off for now
Just for now, for a little while
Until the timing is right
Until we have more money, vacation days
Then there was the new car, the college tuitions, and that trip with her parents down to Grand Cayman for their 60th wedding anniversary
Now it’s graduations and grandkids
What happened to Africa?
They still go shopping
Together, sometimes
He pays with their credit card, she pushes the cart
They had a comfortable life
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
Eggs are good with toast and butter, but the
beep of your microwave might take you out of your
serious, tedious, “over-coffee” thoughts.
Democracy, decisions, discretion and depression,
eerie thoughts scramble your tiny little head,
effortlessly. Banish them. Don’t worry you, you, you…
*Jeez, what would I even call you, myself. It’s like I need
a change to figure out something so set in stone.
i need to be somewhere else, this house is to
Jagged and rough for me to pretend to like anymore.
cayman islands sounds good but—
elegance should come easy in my own home.*
Emily.
ended bad, remember?
oh, wow, real bad. Don’t think about her,
*Peaceful as she was, there are probably
cuter out there.*
are you sure?
Establish some confidence in your
tea. *She said she didn’t like my taste in tea. What did
you do for me, Emily?! Nothing!*
*V. Emily V…. what was her last name?
double-yous, two of you… would be unbearable. You were
excellent at everything terrible, you know that.
Why oh why, coffee and eggs? You always make me think. Get married in a ga-
zeebo? No chance in hell.*
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
The monetary balance has gone crazy
In this world we call our home,
The fiscal market's shot to hell
Stock collapsing like a stone.
The hedge deals are un sellable
Most banks refuse to loan
Good real estate is valueless
The roof's a "Plummet Zone".
Oh yes the suits are stepping out for air
And falling like a stone,
Termination of their worries
Beats explanations on the phone.
There's always a dependable
To help clean up the place,
And oblivion's a better option
Than awkward questions and disgrace.
Capitulating companies,
Whole nations in default
The piggy banks are bulging
With the greenbacks from the vault.
The banks refuse to part with cash
Lines of depositors do queue
And the finance houses shut their doors
Explaining, briefly, "Well...Fuck you!"
Heads of Government meet and talk
The photo ops are really grand,
Banner headlines in the daily's
Report resolutions that seem bland.
The fanfare and the hoopla
Announce the remedy is payoffs....
And global confidence is sprinting
For the trees...In panicked chaos!
But the C.E.O's are catered for
Their future is secure,
There's several million tucked away
In the Cayman Island tour.
Unfortunate about the desolation left behind
But these things are bound to happen
When the blind do lead the blind.
There will be some opportunities,
Some bargains coming up
And the prudent keep the check book close
For when the number's up...
Of all those struggling little people
Who bravely slave away
And collapse before they realize
Their firm's capacity to pay.
So What's around the corner?
Do we hide our heads in sand?
Do we kiss our **** goodbye
And join the suits in splatter land?
Or do we bravely hoist our trousers
Hitch our belts another notch,
And convince ourselves that someone
Higher up has got the watch
And the ability to work out
What the hell is going on..
And deliver us from evil
Before the world is ****** gone?
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge.
8th October 2008
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:54 PM UTC
He was a simple man of simple words,
or high-school girl with broken heart who thought
they had a message, or a call, or not.
Arriving with a sense of the absurd,
a bittersweet purview on life and love,
together with a gift for nuanced phrase,
appreciating how the language plays
upon the mind and tongue, they rise above
the well-worn similes, the tired cliches
for days, perhaps for weeks. Then comes the time
when human ugliness shows up to flay
the budding poet. The evidence of crimes
committed: smoky circles, nameless gray
reminders of whose gifts they took away.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
"You can't be in two places at once."
My palms are faced towards India
The space needle owns my eyes
My rib cage is Italy
My heart, belonging to Paris
My knees wobbled and weak in the direction of the Cayman Islands
The sting rays rubbed up soft among my calves
The breath caught in my lungs the second
I head east
Where you own my oxygen
in Spokane
My toes are pointed towards Portland
where mystery, wept tears,
and the abandonment of my father
resides.
New York city holds
the inferior restlessness within me
and this tiny little room
is where "I am."
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
A lot has happened since I wrote last:
The buzz of the university hive,
The blossom of a love, perhaps,
The sunken ship of a recent dive
Resurrected by society maps.
The gallop into some part-time tosh –
The push and heave of a new routine.
Assurance of some Christmas dosh
(About as sure as part-time could mean.)
The stress of snow that assures my fears,
The irritancy of an icy day,
I am now an adult, it appears,
And my childhood life has flown away
To a warmer place on Cayman sands -
A place I know I will never return,
For while I may travel to Cayman lands
My Cayman childhood was left to burn.
It is icy pastures I now graze
And snow that keeps me trapped away
Where temptation begins its seduction phase...
I stick to my decision that day
For now I am happy and the future begins:
My directional debut lies in wait
And a possible partnership to be kings?
A production team? We’ll leave it to fate.
Exams beckon, I’ll deal with them first.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
You define what this life is worth.
Fame and fortune are irrelevant.
The brightest star gifted to Earth,
Higher than the lucky heaven-sent.
The glove that is a perfect fit,
I’d jump without a thought for you.
If you catch then so be it,
If you don’t then that suits too.
For you are a poem that captures wonder -
Unforgotten and kept close by.
You are romantic rolls of thunder
Shaking tears from the silent sky.
The dew that drips from morning lands,
The white foam of a waterfall,
The sunset by the Cayman sands,
The nightingale’s vibrant call.
You are the beautiful view of a cliff
From the edge as you watch the beauty below,
Before I fall off and think you are gone
But cling on to you tightly and never let go.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 12:39 PM UTC
You define what this life is worth.
Fame and fortune are irrelevant.
The brightest star gifted to Earth,
Higher than the lucky heaven-sent.
The glove that is a perfect fit,
I’d jump without a thought for you.
If you catch then so be it,
If you don’t then that suits too.
For you are a poem that captures wonder -
Unforgotten and kept close by.
You are romantic rolls of thunder
Shaking tears from the silent sky.
The dew that drips from morning lands,
The white foam of a waterfall,
The sunset by the Cayman sands,
The nightingale’s vibrant call.
You are the beautiful view of a cliff
From the edge as you watch the beauty below,
Before I fall off and think you are gone
But cling on to you tightly and never let go.
Feb 20, 2011
Feb 20, 2011 at 2:24 AM UTC
The tax man is coming to town
he wants to put all of us down,
he'll tell you what taxes are due and
then shake the cash out of you.
I'm hiding my money away,in
the Cayman's or Montego Bay,
let him go looking
like I did today, for somewhere
to squirrel my money away.
Don't think that he is your friend,
his means is a way to your end,
if you've got money
I suggest that you spend
the lot.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
'I should be dead'
Said the sleeping-
Sadness--
Trying to speak blind
With cayman lips.
This dust is different
Lingering internally-
Flailing at unchangeable.
There were pieces,
Like me--but-
Crafted from puzzle
I left them inside-the-clouds.
On the pathways-
And with her skin-
-Though the atmosphere stole them.
My familiarity had gone-
And now--
All I have,
Is singing carcinogens,
Gargling on numb.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
He was a simple man of simple words,
or high-school girl with broken heart who thought
they had a message, or a call, or not.
Arriving with a sense of the absurd,
a bittersweet purview on life and love,
together with a gift for nuanced phrase,
appreciating how the language plays
upon the mind and tongue, they rise above
the well-worn similes, the tired cliches
for days, perhaps for weeks. Then comes the time
when human ugliness shows up to flay
the budding poet. The evidence of crimes
committed: smoky circles, nameless gray
reminders of whose gifts they took away.
Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 11:06 PM UTC
Every boy I have ever met
craved the way Cayman
feels on their tongue
so, don’t you dare tell me
someone will fall for
my candy-coated smile
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
Many think that the poor have it easy.
Well, let’s see if they really do....
Ah, they must if you carefully consider
What they do NOT have to go though.
They DON'T have huge investment dilemmas,
Such as "Is my portfolio complete?"
Or "Will I maintain my financial status?
It's hard keeping up with the elite!"
The poor aren’t faced with countless decisions
That make their daily lives so insane:
“Which car should I drive—the Mercedes or Lexus?”
“Armani or Gucci?” “Which pill for pain?"
The poor do not have thousands of options
For health care, so for them it’s a breeze.
"Why do they need preventative medicine?
Emergency care should put them at ease."
Taking care of a mansion is tough,
So the rich always have a reason to grouse.
"The poor have it easy with just an apartment,
Or if they’re lucky, a ramshackle house."
The rich, having to juggle their money,
Are in a quandary, so to speak.
"The poor can live simply, for they get to live
From paycheck to paycheck, from week to week."
It’s hard to organize fancy dinners;
To get the best caterers, you have to pull strings.
"It's so much easier for the poor:
On food stamps can’t they still live like kings?"
Hiding millions of dollars is a challenge;
The Cayman Islands are so far away.
"For those don’t have the money to hide,
Life’s less hassle for them, you might say."
Tax loopholes are also a headache;
It’s hard to determine which ones work best.
"Those with no money don’t have to worry
Because they lack the funds to invest."
Just ask the poor: if they had a choice,
Would they be willing to make a switch,
And give up the easy life of the poor
For the complex, difficult life of the rich?
- by Bob B
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC
On a sunny day I'm listening
To the little birds singing
All day and it's a beautiful
Sunny day I'm happy today
The sun shining so bright
In the morning sunlight
And Cayman Islands is so
Beautiful and peaceful
Today and I'm drinking my
Wine all day
And with a smile on my face
I'm in a beautiful warm place
And it's a beautiful sunny day
And to taste the sweetest fruits
And listen to birds singing all day
I'm so happy today
And the sky is so blue and I'm
Watching the butterflies flow to
And the little flowers are
Dancing in the warm sunlight
There smiling so bright
And it's just a beautiful sunny
Day in Cayman Islands today and we're
Singing old songs all day
And the rosy colored and it's
Perfect sunny day and I'm feeling
The warm breeze
Blowing all day and my
Memories of sunny Cayman Islands
Will never fade away
And I'm in Cayman Islands tonight
And I'm smiling so bright
And having so much fun
I'm in the warm hot sun and my
Memories to cherish and so much
Happiness and so much joy and
Everyone laughing with smiles on
There faces and I'll always
Remember my sunny days
In beautiful Cayman Islands
Every day.
May 15, 2022
May 15, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
with warmth i recall
our heated beach rendezvous
carefree dune romance
the sand surf and sun
walks hand in hand to earth's end
wishing it wouldn't
until the next time
safely in my winters warmth
cayman nights rewind
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC