I’m riding on Victoria
like Ferdinand Magellan;
I’ve got this strange conception
that Carnegie’s my melon.
I’m tickling the ivory;
I’m keying like a felon.
Sure, I’m a tad inflated,
but I ain’t no Janet Yellen.
I wasn’t trained classically;
not buying what they’re selling.
But I can blow the doors right off,
get lit like Mount St. Helen.
And if the crowd won’t get real loud,
no worries; I’ll be gelling.
I’ll spit some seed to pick up speed
and crank and grind and peel some rind
on my trusty watermelon.
————-
for the A Watermelon Fantasy Ride Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
written on 06/28/2022
Categories:
ferdinand magellan, silly,
Form: Rhyme
Eureka - a love song Tanka series
~ art by Edward Burne-Jones ~
It's a fair question:
as you smile that smile, you ask
how much I love you…
"You are constant as the sun
...and I am Copernicus"
As you close your eyes,
you ask how far I'd travel
to show I love you:
"Love, you are the seven seas
...I'm Ferdinand Magellan"
"Why do you tell me
I'm the apple of your eye?"
you wonder out loud.
I say, "You are gravity
…and I am Isaac Newton"
You furrow your brow
asking why I pursue you.
"It's simple", I say,
"you're 24 karat gold
…and I am Howard Carter"
You crinkle your nose,
"Why do you never give up?"
you ask me coyly.
I say, "You are a light bulb
… and I'm Thomas Edison"
You get somber and
ask if loving you is such
a good idea
to which I say "Eureka!"
… for I am Archimedes
written 29 Jan 2022
Categories:
ferdinand magellan, love,
Form: Tanka
Ood
Is this sound
From not too far afield
Like mist
Between late dusk and early moonrise
Past quarter of six.
You might not know
It is something unforeseen:
Even as I collect the bad habits
I bear not to keep
Through my sobs, it is that screams.
Strange this is,
Of what I cannot name in the things I hear:
Noise of metals against metals, oft-rhymed sighs
And battle cries, each false note of guns and gongs I overheard: these be not
It.
Is it your footsteps
Of where seek?
Or the reek of its absence
Onto this shore of a bloodbath,
That, set my pulse to skip
Abeat?
Could it be my sweatdrops
Like hoofbeats
Pattering this tin shield
Time of the same?
Or, is it just my heart
Thumps against my ribcage
Which is almost,
But not quite, sharp enough to hurt
Whose beats howl
Nothing but your name?
Author's Note:
*gong - a large bronze disk, of Asian origin, having an upturned rim, that produces a
vibrant, hollow tone when struck, usually with a stick or hammer that has a padded head.
P.S The poem is inspired by the Battle of Maktan in 1521
between the Spanish conqueror: Ferdinand Magellan and the fierce Datu of Maktan:
Lapu Lapu.
Categories:
ferdinand magellan, love
Form: Free verse