There's Santa that came to Waikiki bay
On an outrigger canoe Christmas Day
He wore a grass hula skirt
And a large Aloha shirt
His course went astray he opted to play
12/19/22
A Funny Santa Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Tania Kitchin
3rd
He who rows on two rivers
Is drowning his wife in tears.
The memory of yesterday is
clanging,
Competing against the sweet
and bitter tastes of the present.
While sailing against the giant waves of life.
I persistently and firmly hang on,
allowing not myself to miss the
paddle's handle to avoid being
fallen and drowned together with
the rolling billows into the
waiting abyss and nothingness.
Once, the outrigger of the
sagging boat was torn apart by
this life's strong storm. But my
conviction to continue
combating the raging tomorrow
and the choice to endure the
nearing death of the past bring
fire to my heart to live another
day.
When the storm subsides, I shall
peacefully tread on the right
path toward Your lap.
I have a little shack near the water’s edge.
The surf beats its sound into my ears as I go to sleep.
The palm trees are there and the sand is white.
Village bamboo huts rim the bay farther away.
It costs nothing to put my outrigger into the water.
I fish and that is what I eat besides po’e and coconuts.
I’m turning gray now and the years have slipped away.
I try not to remember England and Cary Jean.
I’ve given all that up and I’ll never go back.
Go back to what?
She died and what’s left for me in that English fog?
Another days work scraping together a few more bob?
Today I’ll walk the sand and look for things washed up.
Maybe I’ll find something I can trade for with the natives.
Maybe I’ll just do nothing and rest some more in my hammock.
One day is much like the next.
Where the sea meets the sky,
Blue on blue.
White sails, slowly sliding by,
Azure hue.
Warm sands, intense, bright sun,
Calming you.
Beautiful island girl, scantily clad,
No taboo.
House made of grass and leaves,
And bamboo.
Waves of heat blurring the beach,
Outrigger canoe.
Shiny, silver grey dolphin rises,
Blowhole spew.
Hammock swaying in the balmy breeze,
Troubles few.
To the urban squalor and urban filth,
You bid adieu.
Tropical paradise and tropical peace,
Who needs a shoe?
(20 lines)
© Copyright 2012 J.A. Stevens
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