Saragossa Poems | Examples

our hero has arrived

OUR Hero Has ARRIVED
When we were children playing in the street
we had our hero,  usually a rugged actor
perhaps it was Gary Cooper. He had to be tall
walk with a swagger 
To be able to do things like flying a plane, drive 
a car, horseback riding a must 
There was Mars, a planet we spoke of mainly
because it sounded warrior-like
We knew Mars was the planet our hero would
go to Mars sorting out the people, there would
be a shot out, he won easily despite a bullet hit
his sheriff shield  
When landed back on earth, spend time with
us teaching us how to tame a wild horse 
what do you know? 
among us here and now, let me present our
here of yore was not fantasy, Elon Musk!
He lives or dreams, a hero who can do anything
a beautiful mother who doesn't shout at him
for not eating porridge and sardines
He lives our dreams, and best of all, he is going 
to Mars and slay the dragon   
Elon Musk is a living example that dreams 
can become real, lamentable, it took too long
 most of my contemporaries have gone to Valhalla
 or for those who became sailors on 
the island of Saragossa

Seafarers Paradise

seafarers’ paradise

seven men drowned 
when a ship sank under gigantic waves
seven weeks later 
they appeared on the Island of Saragossa
where singing shanty is forbidden

but seaweed is served in 7 variations
by a female ship cook, the only woman
who had been welcomed
as mess-maid was not proper sailors

as for the dead they are soaking wet
it is what keep then going, and lives in caves
lit up by electric eel and blue sea stars
the carpenter has added shelves. 

strict ranks are observed, the skippers have
the biggest cave, in a smaller cave, the chief steward
drink whisky from a flask that fills itself up
insist he is an officer, is in conflict with everyone.

since the island is timeless, no one knows or care
whether it is forenoon or afternoon
they listen to the cook’s bell, especially if curry is served
when it is summer, they swim with dolphins.

Inert Tarn

An inert tarn


In the pond of pleasant memories, a duckling paddled
like an unwanted thought of a spring wedding in Brussel.
Flat stones skipped on the pond in the night, quacked 
refused to spit out half-chewed toothpicks forgotten.
Expel the duck and send it abroad to the Saragossa Sea
to a shadowy barren island in the stream
where the monster Amnesia lives; you must be warned
keep away if the ogre gets hold of you, it will not eat
the unwanted, but also the memory of those you loved.

Home Ward Thoughts

Homeward Thoughts

When I see the white jet stream of an air carrier
high up on the blue sky that wholly cloud,
like a grazing flock of sheep
I think of the country up North, I left so many years ago
was I right leaving?
A question that remains unanswered.
A chasm of time has gone like the mist of Saragossa Sea,
mysterious and frightening.
A land that only exists in my mind,
should I go there, I would be in dreams I was young
and life had many promises.
That was before death ravaged us and took those I loved.
No, I think I will be in Portugal a little longer.

Horizons

Horizons 

I sit on the verandah look at the sea no ships in today
open view until the horizon after that, on the other side
there are new limits 
I have seen many horizons, some of them are blue or green
but have in common stopping me from seeing what is beyond
What if I met a horizon that had no new horizons?
A blank nothingness that has no dreams.
I look behind me and see an island before the fog sets
obscuring its coastline.
It is getting cold on the verandah, suddenly it becomes
the loneliest place on earth, breaking my spirit.
The island I saw on my endless quest is called Saragossa 
I steer my ship there to meet friends long since departed
they will tell me what I need to know, the unsaid.

The Sea Ghosts

The sea ghosts

The first time I went to sea as a mess-boy, it was on an old ship.
It took two days to find my seaman's legs and take a look at my surrounding.
The crew didn´t look real like they were shadows caught up in a war
that was not of their choosing. 
When ships were torpedoed and the sea was afire.
Drowning seamen slowly sinking in a circle like a macabre dance of death. 
There was something of the night about them I could not fathom.
The war lasted for many years when peace came, the seamen had lost all contact with families and friends.
When this voyage was over, they would get paid, find lodging near the harbour drink beer at ease with tarts and thieves until the money ran out.
Then a new job, one voyage at a time.
I wanted to but could not be one of them; life interests me. 
The sailors had found something I could not emulate, their peace of mind
was shrouded in the mist a yearning for Saragossa.

Enticement

Enticement

The girl in the bar that had floors made of stranded schooners
came and sat by us
Many sailors had drowned in her eyes.
On the way to the Saragossa Sea, their blood
ran down cracks on the floor,
Dripped into the sea below the colour of crimson.
Looked into her eyes an evil goddess with green eyes
I followed her to a room in the back
She laughed when she caught me.

The Mist Makes You See Far

The mist makes you see far.

 Driving home, it was late after a clinic visit
the mist hung heavy over the valley that looked like a different landscape.
I might as well drive in Bhutan, a place where mad royals live.
At the dinner table, the prince excused himself, returned with a machine gun
and shot them all, a truly Shakespearian moment.
The prince was declared mentally unfit sent to a secure place
but since he was now a king, he can walk around and be free of relatives, sits in the throne-room 
wears a crown and nothing can be done about it.
The French got rid of their royals but not totally some of them still walk around calling themselves 
duke or baron, but politicians occupy their splendid castles.
I saw them, the royals of yore moving about in the mist, reminded me
of the ghosts on the island of Saragossa where blind old tars are forever trying to escape back to 
the sea where they once were the princelings of the oceans.

Speculation

Speculation 

What is the best time to die? 
A beautiful summer’s day 
or in the winter when it rains.
There is an untimely satisfaction 
that mourners - if there is any-
will be wet and die of the flu.
Sitting in the antechamber
discussing where we are going.
My plan is clear its Saragossa
where the dream of life continues,
because our conciseness was
a flash of light in the darkness.

A Thistle

Odd man out
 He cuts a lonely figure
Only he isn’t.
Avoided learning the language where he lives
To avoid tittle-tattle.
He is a failed poet too.
Rancorous and silent
But does smile and say thank you a thousand times
As is the norm in this country.
He wishes he could eat as much as he wanted to
But is constricted by diabetes
And a wonky heart.
He is often cranky.
Waits to set sail to the Saragossa island
He sends poems to a publisher, who answer but want money
He has published a few books
Which makes him feel like a fraud
His last wish is to be accepted by someone who will publish him
Not telling him he is terrific than asking for cash.
He finds facebook too nice
Likes the twitter where the truth is often spoken
And no one reads his work.

When Old Sailors Slipp Anchor

When old sailors go 

A seaman sees death as an ocean of tranquillity
 no storm will upset his raft he can safely sleep
Through the ages of time, fish can swim, whales
Blow a rainbow fine, and sharks can kill seals
It does not bother him; the course is set
For the Island of Saragossa where his friends wait
to say: halloo old man, remember us?
And they will help him make his raft into
a beach hut where there is always sunset and
the whisky bottle never gets empty.
He sighs, home from the sea at last.

Alfred On An Island

Alfred on an Island

I got a phone call a rusty voice said he was Alfred,
But you are dead!
I know, I know the voice told like it meant nothing 
I`m at the Saragossa Island you said to me about it is nice
Here but a bit damp and foggy, hence my rusty voice.
a lifeboat that drifted ashore had a ship to shore radio
that is how I`m able to talk to you now.
But how do you get along with rough sailors, and their
salty language, not too bad as you know I play the violin
and they sing shanties and do a jig, I miss the piano though
but it would only rust here and I can`t find a tuner.
I miss you, Alfred, of course, you do I thought how to be cultured
and in a way I`m your father, the real one abandoned you
The voice faded radio interference, but he said he missed too.
He had made my day he remembered me.

Friday the Thirteen

Friday the thirteen

Is the day when ancient sailors meet in silent jubilation
on the island of Saragossa, they walk to the island’s highest top
and when the fog lifts, can see strange ships out there
ships full of containers with no deck- room for a jig.
They hope none of the ships will run aground it will only attract attention.
settlers will come, build on their land and plant potatoes.
Where are the ancient sailors going to live? Inside walls or under tarpaulin,
soon the fog will descend obscure the island and leave them in peace.

The Mighty Fall

The Mighty Fall

I fell through the night under me I could see white crested waves
of the sea and there was little I could do to stop this freefall,
it took 3 minutes to reach the unforgiving surface of the vast ocean.
I screamed like a hurt animal and began sinking could not breathe,
fought and struggled to be free of this huge amount of water; and
there it was my heaven, the full moon pulling me upwards so I could
fly and dream among the stars.
First, I had to swim to the Saragossa and find the secret island always
 hidden in a miasma of the absolved, but I could not do it alone.
On my back floated my body anemone and incredibly beautiful.
The sea was a mirror now; I was held back by the sea as the moon
tried to possess me, both wanted me, and this filled me with
ecstatic happiness as the current helped me to reach Saragossa.

Temptation

The Temptation 

The girls in the bar that had floors made of
Stranded schooners timber came and sat by us
Many sailors had drowned here
On their way to Saragossa Sea their blood had
Run in the cracks on the floor 
Drip, onto the sea below the colour of crimson
I looked into her eyes an evil goddess with
Green eyes yet I followed her to the rooms at the back
And she laughed when she caught me.

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