Vacance Poems - Poems about Vacance

What is it to see the soil of home again? A welcome, snow-struck and a return To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn. We converse in broken tongues to men We know, hooked on holiday language Comprised of wandering hand signs. Collect the car and pay parking fines, Drive through towns and over a bridge Until we reach the Western gateway. Oh when will we...

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Water licks your feet Far cry from the beating sun Desert sand to sea...

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The English weather: Rainclouds follow us from home There is no escape....

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Precipitation: Culminates in a washout Stuffed camels get soaked...

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An azure ocean Displaced by mighty blackness The horizon dies...

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The Med between us The gusts make me think of you Storms... it’s just like home....

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Gathering grey clouds Whip crack of frothing thunder Is this Africa?...

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Gracious smiles, a waiter waiting. The service: quite nice actually. The drinks cool and food sating My average appetite factually; Who knew they had coca cola here In the middle of the desert... odd Isn’t it? I ordered water and beer And here arrives our saviour, god And leader, dressed in a brown Shirt despite the pre-mentioned Heat. He never wears a frown, Even at rush...

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Gargling, a gargoyle’s groan gulps From the bilingual blackness of TV, A clockwork advertisement pulps Knowledge into your worn mind free Of charge. Nothing but gobbledegook Everywhere, an insistent humming bee And you just volunteered for the hook. You can’t understand it, but still can see That it’s appealing. Someone wants it. We now return you to your film with Mr T, But subtitled. There’s...

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Boiling, baking and blazing, Other synonyms for heat. My camel is happily dazing, He was not a restful seat. Poolside I’ll later be lazing, Resting my sunburnt feet. Air conditioning is amazing, ...

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Arabic labelling on bottles of water, Room overlooking bricks and mortar, Men want tips for being your porter, Getting to food is a pitiless slaughter. Piles of olives and eggs sit just right, In bowls coloured an abyss of white, Odd cuisine makes a peculiar sight, This is the date I’ll be having tonight. Cold meat and ham sit on your plate, Plenty queues;...

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Shuffling sandstone, infinite shimmering coloured pots, TV remotes lie in tandem with jeans, shiny toy robots Act as magnets to the unwary tourist, conspicuous in Their presence, shorts and cameras, humid hair in knots. Spices of hues in their hundreds to make you salivate, Groaning shack tables of suspicious sunglasses sate Your appetite for purchases, the sun beats down on The market,...

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Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend The steel point of eyes bore into my neck My opponent leaves...

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Burning, white heat coursing across flesh A honky no longer Leafy flecks marbling skin like wire mesh Relax and grow stronger Silence attacked by Dolly Parton’s CDs A boiling furnace Darts competitions bring you to your knees The sun only burns us The water is contrastingly icicle cool At night the sunshine abates Trapped voluntarily here by the pool Package holidays are great!...

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Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival, I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches ...

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