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[Bernie01]

The Yucatan
turns men my age copper, we drip
like stevedores on a dock.

Deck chairs hold our sultry wives.
Birds turn in the cloying air, a cluster
of sullen islands slide starboard.

Natives sell ivory apes and shell
peacocks, shrink wrapped dope,
coconut oil and rotting fruit.

A lifeguard hooks a finger
into a teen's waistband, my wife
burns to a gold lion.

Fluttering pennants, breakfast jelly.
Our ship lumbers into a green breeze,
empty thunderheads ripple overhead.

My mind drifts, names fade,
the feckless afternoon dissembles.
A steel combo plays. Ja Da.

[BobBradshaw]

This is beautiful, exquisite imagery throughout...the ending is just pitch perfect right....only maybe Ja Da should be Ja-da? I'm not sure....but anyway, I am impressed as hell with your quick, but dazzling brushstrokes....my favorite stanzas:

Deck chairs hold our sultry wives.
Birds turn in the cloying air, a cluster
of sullen islands slide starboard.
...
Fluttering pennants, breakfast jelly.
Our ship lumbers into a green breeze,
empty thunderheads ripple overhead.

My mind drifts, names fade,
the feckless afternoon dissembles.
A steel combo plays. Ja Da.

[Kenneth2816]

Bernie. I think your use of imagery here, and the motion in the poem (birds turning, shiip umbering, rippling thinderheads, etc) bring the poem to life, like a painting.


I like sultry wives *and they slways are * no matter.

Same with green breezes..

I csn see this, feel it. Nicely done

[FranktheFrank]

Yes, like a painting,
I wrote a sea story this month
nothing like this
fabulous Bernie.
You must be a writer of sorts.

This captures the mood perfectly.

My mind drifts, names fade,
the feckless afternoon dissembles.
A steel combo plays. Ja Da.

No nits
Do't change a tittle or a jot.

Oh sorry, not keen on the title
I know it's funny, but something serious please.

I was on sea for a year,
passenger liner
exactly like this,
only I couldn't say it this way.

[Bernie01]

Hey....thanks and thanks again.

and yes, Frank, a serious title soon.

lines rattling now...


Back on the dance floor at age 57.

The next wave of nonstick lipstick,

underwired, footwear of a Venetian

gondolier. Atlas of forgotten beach

holdouts. My louche insouciant past.


suggestions appreciated....






bernie

[FranktheFrank]

Passenger Liner

[Michael (MV)]

 
Hi bernie,


I prefer Frank's title suggestion to your original


and now I share 4 variations of my suggestion:

On Board

Back on Board

Above Board

Aboard




Michael (MV)

 

 
 
 
  
 
 
 

[Michael (MV)]

 
Hi bernie

are you asking if these 5 lines

Back on the dance floor at age 57.
The next wave of nonstick lipstick,
underwired, footwear of a Venetian
gondolier. Atlas of forgotten beach
hldouts. My louche insouciant past.

^^  Are you asking if these 5 lines might be at home in the poem?

Michael (MV)

Hey....thanks and thanks again.

and yes, Frank, a serious title soon.

lines rattling now...


Back on the dance floor at age 57.

The next wave of nonstick lipstick,

underwired, footwear of a Venetian

gondolier. Atlas of forgotten beach

holdouts. My louche insouciant past.


suggestions appreciated....



bernie

 

 
 
 
 
 

[Gracy321]

Hi Bernie, I've been away due to health reasons.

Love your poem, no nits at all.

Title suggestion: Summer Cruises $799.00 (I think it suits the tone of the poem to include the cheap price. Just sayin... )

I also second the nomination for IBPC.

Best, Gracy

[Bernie01]

M---

sorry to not be clear...the five lines i am thinking to compose a brand new poem. no relationship to the yucatan trip sketched here.

the title. the title. thanks for your detailed suggestions. I like Above Board---the of board for bored...the irony of these people being "above Board."




Gracy---


first, my best wishes for your return to good health.


your thought about the poem's title is how i saw that descriptive meander. i never go for flip, unless by accident. so this mini controversy here is one i take very seriously.

and thanks for your complement to the pom.


bernie

[Bernie01]

i've added another line...

Back on the dance floor at age 57.

next wave of nonstick lipstick,

footwear of a Venetian gondolier.

Atlas of forgotten beach holdouts.

My louche, insouciant past.

Perpendicular corridors to my room,
perpendicular corridors content
with themselves like interlaced fingers
of a priest.

We sit stone faced and silent, like men
in a waiting room.

I grow fat as the Sunday Times.

An eddy of moon takes me like a mother
gathering a child from the bath.

[FranktheFrank]

Bernie, I don't think you realise how perfect that first post is
please don't mess with it any more
it's ready to go as it was, please.

Just set one of your wonderful titles

[Bernie01]

Frank...


i shouldn't add a poem fragment to an unrelated and completed poem...my bad...

i trust everyone here so much and because i felt stymied with the new fragment, i posted what i had,


thanks for the comment...OK...no more fiddling with the fragment...but don't have a title just now.


Back on the dance floor at age 57.

next wave of nonstick lipstick,

my taffeta dinner jacket lapels,

felt footwear of a Venetian gondolier.

The mind, Atlas of forgotten remnants.

Louche, insouciant past.



bernie

[FranktheFrank]

Okay
no problemo
Just accept the nomination in Palaver.

[FranktheFrank]

I nominate this for December IBPC.
Please respond in Palaver when the time comes.