Bleak winter Melbourne morning,
a cold wind coming in
from across the Bay
and blowing down the street,
past the Esplanade Cafe
with the smell of coffee
and warm air spilling out
from an open door.
I stop, look at the cake
and pastry display through
the window, the basket
of freshly baked croissants,
Danish pastries topped with
strawberries and apricots
and glazed with syrup.
A cloud of steam
from the espresso machine
adds a touch of the surreal.
Anticipation moistens my mouth
on the sight of French vanilla
slices plump with custard
and cream, muffins erupting
from their papery patties,
Portuguese tarts, thick slices
of carrot cake topped
with icing. I savor each
with an imaginative bite
and decide my treat…
then groan. I've left my wallet
at home.
( for Deb M )
They crawl in a line
along the esplanade
between beachfront mansions
and the bay's indifference,
windows down, elbows out,
hands tapping on doors in time
to the doof doof base
pulverizing air and eardrums
inside their metal sanctums
of pure testosterone.
Throbbing engines ease them
along the street, slow
and deliberate as if to give
pedestrians time to admire
and take in such potency.
An occasional pump
on the pedal sends a roar
rasping out of twin exhausts
and stutters a squeal
of tyres announcing to the locals
and all gathered, the "boys"
are here.
Marooned in another era,
they seem oblivious
to the derision flung at them
as they pass, misinterpreting
a smirk for an approving smile,
the shake of a head a gesture
of wonder rather than a judgment
on how silly they look.
Their egos blaze like the sun
reflected in polished chrome.
When satisfied
they've given onlookers their fill
of metallic ****, they hang a left,
plant their foot
and in a wake of tyre smoke
and deafening noise, rocket off
back to their own private planet,
time frozen somewhere
in the exhaust filled clouds
on the far side of their minds.
one calm, reposeful day, the wind chimes
played a rhapsody of serenity and peace.
each zephyr girdled by the ocean's air
layered the saltiness onto your skin.
a stroll on the esplanade rejuvenated
your dehydrated body and soul.
like a harbor for reflection, your mind
wandered about the limitless horizon,
swayed with the coconut trees'
branches and reached for the sun
against the silky, baby blue backdrop.
it was a perfect day to marvel at the world.
but, was the world enjoying it's view too?
in a contingent episode, nature showed
it's demeanor; it's fury ignited by infamy.
the unrestrained waters were beckoning,
tides were rising and waves caused
a raucous that solicited danger.
the quiet ambience was redacted,
chaos and madness in close vantage.
like that, life becomes at risk of desolation,
the untainted, crystalline sea waters that
created an idyll of a scene shifted to
a frame of terror and disturbance.
how absurd of nature to decoy a monster
from a then- tamed body of water.
a phenomenon of a tsunami
that can threatened the mere
spans of your homeland; an island,
a minute dot holding your little world.
you prayed that this day never comes.
A baby cries, the ferry toots;
A dog will not stop yapping.
A sparrow chirps, the traffic hums;
A flag is gently flapping.
A jogger’s footfalls pound the path;
A motorboat goes chugging.
A barge, though large, makes quiet splashes
With its tugboat tugging.
Bits of conversations drift;
A radio starts blasting.
Urban peace is something that
You cannot count on lasting.
Still, out on the esplanade,
In sunshine, all is pretty,
As here I sit and listen to
The soundtrack of the city.
Excitement filled the air as the calliope played
News spread the famed steamboat was near,
Its whimsical gingerbread trimmings displayed.
The whole town would rush to the esplanade
As the wildly anticipated boat pulled into pier,
Excitement filled the air as the calliope played.
If an overnighter, folks walked the promenade,
Marveling at its size and the exquisite exterior
Its whimsical gingerbread trimmings displayed.
I had heard one could go onboard, if one paid
Even get to see a riverboat show, a premiere.
Excitement filled the air as the calliope played.
What a difference Delta Queen’s arrival made!
Soon she would be decommissioned, the fear
Its whimsical gingerbread trimmings displayed.
I remember well how by the riverbank she lade
Like a fabulous ornate coffin lying upon the bier
Excitement filled the air as the calliope played
Its whimsical gingerbread trimmings displayed.
Written April 6, 2022
[The Delta Queen, a national treasure, has not
travelled the Ohio River on a regular schedule
since the 1970s.]
You are in your blue period -
turquoise swimsuit, buoyant in azure.
Behind your shoulder,
Brighton West Pier,
A snap taken at an amateurish angle,
you’re diving sideways into the waves,
the gaily painted structure
tumbling after you.
A day later, the pier burnt down.
Charred wooden bones,
black skeletal pilings stumped naked.
Vaudeville, lyceum, taproom, and arcade
once rocked beneath bunting and banners
now only wrecked rafters,
broken fingers grasping still at yesterday.
A hint of flames behind your image,
an esplanade crumbling
scorched waves.
It's the blue that saves you –
Your wide open blue eyes
your goofy blue bathing cap.
The photo is blistering,
it was a close thing,
nobody yelled fire when I took it.
~~~~~
The pier closed to the public in 1975 and fell into disrepair for decades,
However, on the 5th of February 2003 the historic U.K. Pier
was engulfed in flames.
Dont worry.
The world will never end.
Your love will cast no shadow.
Urges ripple over water.
A grave is hard and without messages.
The Family Bit, beyond measure.
Our bodies dice, shove, and cascade
While Rigor Mortis sells daiquiris
On the Esplanade.
Wishes do come true,
In the warmth and below the blue.
Tell me would you walk with me underneath the starlit sky,
Along the barron esplanade as the moonlight meets your eyes,
I'll hold your body close to mine,
Kiss your sweet lips gently,
And watch the ocean sparkle,
As we embrace tenderly.
Tell me in the meadows,
Where we lay amongst the corn,
Can I serenade you,
Until the light of dawn,
I'll sing you songs of Cupid's bow,
Whose arrows flew with love,
The moment that I saw you they were shot from high above.
I rowed from Cambridge where
my scull was slapped by the wake
of the long boats from MIT and Harvard
then dodged the hodgepodge of
tiny sloops in the lower basin
competing and sharing the venue
along the bank in my "own" space
I drifted
flags waving from the shore spoke of the night
the Esplanade was awash with revelers
so many flags moved and reflected
off the lazy waves and celebrated
to the hum of strings straining to tune
the Anthem was the birthday hymn
The Stars and Stripes Forever
wrestled with my recollections
of "Web- Footed Friends"
Until Longfellow's soul hovered - smiling
and Tchaikovsky's gift reverberated
shell and cannon echoed over the Charles
and through the city spires
in the brilliant sky colors danced with
each embellished percussion
candles for THE birthday and
wishes for peace was in the hearts
of all who shared
In Pennsylvania, there was snow
But back here in the city,
This Christmas isn’t white, but still,
The glowing sun looks pretty.
So we went out to take a walk
Along the dappled river,
The bracing air a pick-me-up
But not enough to shiver.
The pathway has been partly closed
For upgrades and repairing,
With April as the date to finish;
I have been despairing.
But suddenly, lo and behold!
One brand-new part’s completed
And to a lovely high-up
River stroll we’ve just been treated.
Though this is not my holiday,
It feels like I’ve been gifted
To have the esplanade returned,
My heart and mood uplifted.
You don't see what I do
You don't see what I do,
Just b'coz you don't want to...
The vibrant beauty of mind esplanade,
Jubilance afloat in pleasant breeze,
Emotions pristine simmered in aubade,
You don't see what I do,
pretend to be a mannequin..
While heart beats in absolute rhyme,
radiate rosy blush to red cheeks,
When passion could nurture no mime,
You don't see what I do,
altruistic if you be, I doubt..
Muffled sound of cold heartbeats,
sluggish blood dragging in veins and
Frigid perpetual stare on face fleets,
Is what you have become,
Insensitive and fancy-free.
Written May 12, 2017
For "Fancy- free poetry contest" by Julia ward
Hope was mistaken
The destiny is sure
By age all I had was taken
The quest hast always pure;
As isolated as the ruins of Babylon
Tunes I heard was immature-couldn’t dance
Whispered a voice give up not! Carry on
And all desired now in abundance,
Most times we need not what we need
And time only shall tell
Attain not what’s destined with greed
Alas! Humility is appreciated ..all is well;
Today is just yesterdays
Life not a dream we’ve come to stay
Real you yet on the way
O! to regret nothing-in my bed in peace I lay.
Find Me where the summer breeze is sighing.
There time floats me in its endless sea.
Engulfed am I - by sweet tranquility.
On a lofty esplanade, gulls flying
are trailing clouds through azure, wheeling free.
Sun flashes gold its grin! There you'll find me.
Written Jan. 17, 2017 for the Find Me at Six Contest of nette onclaud
With a gold sunset
Walking in the esplanade
The bare feet are touched
By the crystal clear spindrift
As a caress of her beau
3-10-2016
When you left
O beloved!
I renunciated all that I had.
My ego, My pride
My love, My self
I gave up all that belonged to me.
There is nothing in my life,
More valuable than your companionship.
No treasure can make me rich,
My real treasure is your smile
No prostitute can satisfy me,
My actual desire is your love.
My world is not enough,
And is abandoned by your essence
Me, and my introduction;
Is incomplete, without you.
Just wishing your come-back
In temples,
I bowed my head down
In mosques,
I bent on my knees
In churches,
I have spent my 'detached from you' life.....
Longing for you
Yes, living for you
O beloved!
I merged myself into you like a mad.
You are no more,infront of me
Escaped free from the prison of my eye-sight
I am thirsty, for just one glance of you.
Herein; sitting alone in esplanade and dew.
In the dawn,
I see you at mushriq (East)
In the evening,
Across the horizons
I gaze you at maghrib (West)
On the papers,
I keeps searching your name.
In my food,
I wishes to sense your taste.
These days are,
Tumultuous to live
When you left,
O beloved!
I am living alone and sad.
~ Amit Valmiki
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