~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The canals wear mirrors today,
polished by bicycle tires
and the scuff of slow-moving clouds.
A houseboat tilts slightly left,
its geraniums nodding
‘welcome to Amsterdam’
Someone’s lost hat floats
down the canal
like a disobedient thought
between two bridges.
P.S. The coffee here
tastes like rain
I loved you
the way one loves
a cathedral with shattered stained glass,
not knowing whether light
would ever pass through again.
On the bridge at Leidseplein,
I held your hand like a prayer
I never dared to utter.
It was cold.
But love,
warmer than all the painted walls
of Van Gogh.
The tram passed
between us
like a final judgment.
And we said nothing.
Because sometimes silence
is all we can give
when our hearts
bear too many scars
written in dead languages.
We loved each other
between two stations,
between a promise and a “maybe.”
At Albert Heijn
I bought you chocolate,
and you smiled
as if I had given you
an entire life
in a green wrapper.
I saw you then
in the empty church at Nieuwe Kerk,
where a candle lit itself.
Perhaps it was for us.
Perhaps for those
who never learned
how to stay.
And now,
as the rain falls on the pavement
where we once walked hand in hand,
I miss the way
you held my silence
like a poem
yet to begin.
I loved you.
In a foreign city,
with a foreign heart,
but with a light
that came from Above,
from a place
where love
never ends.
Why does Amsterdam taste like chocolate chips?
Dance parties with friends make me laugh.
Who said that rhythms weren't a part of work?
I listen to songs more than half
Of my life, I wonder who stole the moon.
Can anyone put it back?
I found a sun in the school's boiler room.
I warm my face in a crack
In the concrete, there's a big old weed.
Prickly spines to clasp.
Who threw these gloves in my general direction?
I've got life to grasp.
you always had a way with words
like Amsterdam
whose running rhymes
of bicycles and harpsichords
and bridges over canals caused
us both to steer each other's hold
to mouths whose distance
was decreasing,
slowly through museum pieces
though I always hoped to linger
nestled inside yours
AMSTERDAM CATCH
I stand here and watch as the men unload
Herring, fresh from the North Sea morning catch
Here on this cobbled path I can now see
That our hard toil can support liberty
For all our women’s work there is no match
Fair sharing in life is the only code
Keep some for ourselves, the rest to market
A fair price now is a hope that is lost
Amsterdam is a famous trading port
And all competition has come to naught
Yet in human terms it is at great cost
Cheaper labour is always the target
Amsterdam.
Calm, gentle.
Cycling, boating, walking.
Tulips, cobbles, bakeries, fresh air.
Eating, drinking, sight-seeing.
Modern, historic.
Holiday.
Phyllis Upman was a young maid
When she learnt the rules of her trade:
Show men what they want
Behave nonchalant
And be sure to pull down the shade!
n.b. Window shopping in
Amsterdam is a more popular
tourist attraction than tulips
***I personally don't indulge in "soothing weed"
but the Dutch and many others certainly do***
Amsterdam
Dynamic charm along many contradictions encompass Amsterdam
House boats festoon canal while tenants toast wine and love Edam
True blue blonds cranking bikes synchronize pace crossing a bridge
Stoned laird hears enlightened souls chant verse perched on ledge
Safe from surging water churches dominate rooftops ogling a tram
Finely carved architecture tower above bars serving eggs and ham
Cafes offer soothing weed dazzling each mortal with such privilege
Fueling dreams of nirvana minds invoke desire to sharpen its edge
Penned: 06/16/2017
12:34 a.m.
Aboard cruise liner: Vision Of The Seas
Docked in Amsterdam, Holland
If you were to inquire of me
To impart my knowledge about flowers
My answer would be this
I have seen with my own eyes the Tulips blossoming in May
In Holland's field's
On a sunny day
The likes of which my eyes had never seen before
Colors divided into rows so rich
Try as I could
I could never explain
What I have seen
In Colors so perfect they rended my eyes blind
In high resolution definition my vision recalibrated
To a new scale and level
A miracle of nature I knew not had existed
Has blessed me with
I was at one with the greatest gift
A rose can not compete with for sheer beauty
Those little bridges
Perfect eyebrows
Half-moons
trampled by feet
that don't care
callously tarry.
The questions in
extinguished glances
a play staged for
dwindling feet
for faces are shameful
from corners of eyes
under fading half moon
a price charged
negotiated in the red glare
of evening wet cobblestones.
The heavy sweet scent
nickers around corners
eyebrows raised
over glassy eyes
sitting between evening
hordes of cut-off legs
senseless lemmings
that walk, walk
to nowhere.
***
August 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Walking past a "coffee shop,"
The weed comes wafting out.
Though once I would have thus indulged,
Today I'll do without.
Somehow that's been tucked away,
A relic of my past,
Like youth and risks and craziness -
It wasn't meant to last.
But how that smell just brings it back!
With every single whiff
I'm tempted just to take a toke,
But I'll stick to a sniff.
Right out side the coffee shop,
Below St. Peter's hands
The purveyors of indulgences
Have set up little stands
And should some half-waked baker
Come and stir about the pot
The double-arched McDiocese
Would (likely) thank me not.
Amsterdam
By
M Saleem Chaudhry
Annelies of Amsterdam is our guide
She took us to her home town for cosmo's ride
Amsterdam is a city of canals so wide
Where everything is open, not much to hide
The treasures of art, deep sea and culture
She showed with pleasure and with pride
A replica of maritime venture converted
in to museum
A floating Chinese restaurant on low tide
The four major canals, representing past Prince and empress for political
system,
Gentleman And single are reflective of the social profile
The ancestors struggled so hard to build a city of canals and ventured so far
In Far East to Indonesia to spice their lives with clove, cinnamon and pepper
With the magnificent past, present lessez faire
The future can be doomed if not taken care
p.s Annelies was our tour director for Cosmo's tour of six countries in ten days
falling from the sky
i scraped my knees on concrete
fingernails darkened by metropolitan deceit
the gale of inner city enterprise
fueling trader commodities
and welcoming queues that form
their redundant mantra
echoing a delayed expedition
the signal beginning our attrition
elsewhere,
coal smeared spartans clash
their frosted resolve melting slowly
inside a timeless arena
closer to home,
oppressed vegetation sprouts
cultured venues calling nature's miracle
a tertiary attraction
despite the pain of this vision
we develop a certain rheumatism
numbing perception and the id
our carnal revelry guided by mohammad
Roosters gather in a parking lot,
cackling and crowing.
A man is bent over in a field,
fixing his tractor. One long breath,
a yawn, a wide field with horses,
clusters of sheep beneath low trees.
We fly along a creek, short stretches of fence,
a dusty path, a boy on a motor scooter,
a tunnel, blackness.
A swan curls on a green pond,
a construction site is only half complete,
a windmill barely rotates in the misty sky.
Swirling white butterflies
dance in a meadow.
I think I see kudzu in the overgrowth;
I forget where I am.
How can the Holland countryside appear
so similar to the American South?
I could stay on this train forever
and always be happy.
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