Billy Shiel runs boat trips
On sunny northern days
Towards the Longstone Lighthouse
A pinnacle of the waves
Past two hundred thousand sea birds
A rare sight to behold
Sometimes even a seal or two
Come close if feeling bold
But it's the lighthouse Billy loves the most
The edge of land and sea
If only he didn't have bills to pay
Longstone is where he wants to be
A tourist named Joe from Dundee
Got lost by the bright sunny sea;
He bellowed, “Where is my map?”
Searching, he fell in a trap;
He yelled: “These trips aren`t fun for me.”
cheese croissant and café au lait
at a cobblestone street bakery
on boulevard du Montparnasse
soaking in the sun and the vibes
of a parisian sunday morning
AP: 1st place 2025
Cranes drop on water
Lodge and lull for a buffet
Bathe awhile and fly.
My city is a tourist spot
People come from all over
It’s also the home for Scad college
Which has pushed the price
Of renting a house or
An apartment sky high
They do what’s best
For tourism and Scad
The bus stops were removed
From downtown which made it
Harder for the people who
Live here, longer walks in between
Stops, or the bus not going
In their direction, what about the
Taxpayers who depend on public trans
As I sit still in the still vehicle looking at the water hole with sure expectation, once through binoculars and again with normal gaze, there was sudden movement as a herd of deer approached the water hole. So far masked in dry reeds, a spotted tawny live-spring sprung to action. Even before I could shift my gaze from normal to binocular and back to normal again, a young deer hung in the cheetah’s panting mouth. As she carried away her food to her waiting family, the herd bent down as one, to graze proper. Wild Day’s business, but the tourist noise didn’t die down. Ashamed at barging in, I felt more sad than being excited. Something dawned on me at that moment, I decided not to be a tourist again.
a death to feed some
hunting to live to raise own
before brash lenses
Chancery lane at 5 o’clock
Towards the Strand I go
It’s a tourist kind of walk
I do not pretend to know
Every building that looks great
Winter air is damp and soft
Passed the wig shop, by the gate
Of the Ede and Ravenscroft
Stopped to see familiar faces
But there are no more
Sellers changed in many places
That I’ve known before
On the Strand Cross Keys are gone
Popped in Cheshire Cheese
And I nearly said hello
Same as always, please..
Seems like no one cares to know
How time shifts through time
Filed and saved as picture show
For some tourists eye.
Tradewinds strummed the cocoa nutter's palm fingers
the sun crept down to its packed trunk
overburdened routes tangled tunnels underground
the sun snuck below through the subtropic shaft
a sunny chamber secrets rays gaping droplets
friendly fronds fingering the sun's gaps as palms' breadth widen
cavernous collapses as sunlight escapes
shadows were the only victims that were claimed
the noontime sun dims over paradise
solar eclipse is a harbinger
light dims life ominously
the betrayed-winds cease
palms fronds dangling
eclipse ends the sun's suspend
eve befriends supine palms read
groves of palms with their trunks all packed
air express vents
Ghost
Gothic
Eidolon,
Sovereign king
Tears begin flowing.
Byzantine abandoned.
The cloaked statue sits and waits.
The tourist lifts her head and sighs.
Phantom’s pain she feels his suffering.
Hand on her forehead nods from side to side.
Labyrinthine journey stirs stark madness.
Intruders’ rash and reckless taunting
Grey-sky midst morning mystifies.
Glowing - white - apparition
Clicks, flashes, from tourists.
Take focus of the
Timeless undead
Cloaked statue
Haunting
Ghost
Good Friday poem..Squeezing hearts into Banana Pie
Glide,glide through the shackles and your nightmares
Who promises a promiser
All that is an art of compromise, is a sorry wine
Liquid pearl mask of possession
A heart which gives life,and another takes it away
Laughing at all the waste and then our streets
Nothing left to do but tease the fans with lion roars and
hopeful ladies in hot pants
There is always more pieces of a puzzle
A heart that shares seeds many others
To share a chorus but keep it honest
And the wind will be fair
And devoid of your instinctive trouble
Tourists in new shoes
Looking for the blues of news
Every one a David Bailey
Selfie mad and share me crazy
Man and woman dog and
Have , you , scratched that selfie itch?
As the morning comes
thoughts begin to wonder
how to live like a tourist could
walk the beach to see the sunrise
have fresh fruit and banana pancakes
for dinner, eat shrimp with a shot of tequila
take my photo next to the heart stature
go shopping at the local market
take a nap in the afternoon
dance under the stars
go back to sleep
When I awake again
I feel like a tropical tourist
stretch against my silky sheets
smell the sweetness of a gardenia
see gauze curtains flutter in warm breeze
hear the doves coo and a woodpecker chatter
arise to find fresh squeezed orange juice
at the small thatched roof restaurant
where musicians play love songs
as vendors come to your table
with trinkets and jewelry
With delighted eyes
I stroll back through town
say hello to friendly merchants
buy a blue straw hat to shade my eyes
talk to a green and purple parrot in a store
then sample some fresh roasted nuts
as I near the street where I live
my mind is fully freshened
and a smile blossoms
Sh! This is a secret place in a mystical magical forest.
Has she ever been discovered by others? I hope not.
I dare not ask, not ready to alert the other tourists.
This would spoil my private sanctuary. I decide to swim nude.
Not realizing everyone else sleeps in for another hour.
A cheating tourist in Rosarito
buys senoritas their drinks incognito
But his wife's on to the lies
and his silly disguise
so now declares their marriage finito!
1/30/22
Watched the tourist families
As they strolled and shopped and sipped.
Without their masks, you might have thought
That Covid had been whipped.
They skated on the ice and bought
Hot chocolate and raclettes.
If germs were floating in the air
They didn’t feel their threats.
Yet all of my anxiety
Of Omicron infection,
Despite my jabs and distancing
And masks for my protection
Was not apparent, outwardly,
On anyone I saw.
I wish, like them, I could command
My worry to withdraw.
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