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Dewey Fleetwood Poem
Masalembo
2016 © Fleetwood
Blue-green ocean tipped with whitecaps rolling toward the shore
Plane is humming with the pilot talking about life and your ride is there parked on the hill for easy starting next to the palm oil trees and oxen plowing the field with an old worn wood plow
The faded leather bag with delta memories is loaded to the jeep on a hill, the pilot is the driver and talks about this being a Japanese air base during the war, jeep looks good for thirty-five years hot sun is glaring down, the people stare
Intrepid, the vessel, is as faded as the bag and stands waiting, wanting to please her new chief as he walks the long pier to his home for twelve months or so, plane is humming and wiggles his wings as he passes over, you wave into the hot glaring sun
Captain greets you with a smile, dressed in khaki and a baseball cap that says captain, asking about mail and if you want a gin and tonic, for the mosquitos you know, first coolness you have felt since leaving Surabaya, what about another
Days are long and greasy and sweaty as you check out home, she’s purring like a kitten and ready for the sea swells and the crying sky and storms that lurk around the islands, you watch the brown bodies glisten as they throw nets catching the small fish
You walk the pier to the store you can buy beer and fresh coconut candy and something served on a coconut leaf that is extra hot and spicy, beer is as cold as the water well, the kids touch your hair and ears and tattoos and compare their skin next to yours
Duty calls and you sail to Surabaya for the crates and oil and helicopter fuel in barrels for the rigs, you spend the night in air con heaven with steaks and wines and big eyed girls telling you their family buffalo died, drinks are strong, you miss the island
You try to remember everything you will need back on the island, oranges and apples and cookies for the kids, Tanqueray and tonic, for the mosquitos you know ice cream and a box of chocolates for the old woman who gets the beer from the well
Work is done and we nestle back into our spot alongside the pier, shared the gifts with the kids and others, they are happy but want more, now it’s back to coconuts and bananas, I’m learning to throw the net for the small fish, the teachers laugh a lot
I’m diving everyday enjoying the mysteries of the sea, brain corals and rays hiding in the sand, small sea critters nibbling at my feet, the Captain leaves his room and walks the pier free at last from his demons, I venture farther out into deeper water
Having coffee on the bridge deck gazing out to sea when I notice a shadow, maybe a ray, maybe an old oil drum, maybe an old pirate chest, the pulse quickens as I ask the old Chinese deckhand to go with me in the twelve foot work boat
We get over the shadow and I can see it’s a plane, I dive down and it’s just a hulk that has been salvaged of everything removable over the years, an old Japanese warplane with memories as it lays there waiting for me to add to my memories
Over gin and tonics, for the mosquitoes you know the Captain starts talking about life, about his life of privilege, his kids and his wife they had a happy home with good schools and vacations and private yachts, his factory doing good
His son starts having trouble cannot seem to get along, complaints come from the schools, there is friction in his home he spends his money happily to buy his son some time and then the death of a vagrant man and his son has to pay for the crime
The son goes to prison but the Captain still has faith until the son does murder again, the family spend all their money to keep one of them alive but tensions rise and words are said and the factory cannot survive
So now he’s a working man, his vacation is his home he tells me he has envy for the life I have known, a life I spent rambling ‘round the oceans of this old world, doing good and doing bad, while searching for that pearl
Copyright © Dewey Fleetwood | Year Posted 2017
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Dewey Fleetwood Poem
Love is Life…
Love is more than a feeling, more than a warmth in the heart, more than a smile, or a touch, or a whisper
Love is on the bow of a heaving ship while sailing to shore, the smell of the salt air and tang of the sea spray, the music in your mind as the lights of the distant shore flicker with coming possibilities
Love is the porpoise swimming in front of the ship as he guides you, the mermaid you imagine in your dreams, the seagull following behind waiting for a scrap of your affection, the moon breaking through on a stormy night
Love is when the anchor holds and the taxi boat makes way towards the nearest dock, the smells of cooking and people you have never met before, the sounds of a foreign land, freedom for a short while
Love is that first shot of whiskey chased with a cold beer, the night folks so glad to see you, the band playing Hotel California, the girls smiling and flashing those eyes
Love is life.
Copyright © Dewey Fleetwood | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Dewey Fleetwood Poem
Fisherman’s cap stained and tattered from days of a different time Smelling the sights and sounds of a sometimes troubled mind, neon lights swirling and music softly plays
it’s Monday night, open mic, and the relic is here to stay
Long haired lassies with songs of love and sorrow, talking about their dreams and their vision of tomorrow, that special person that makes them feel that warming deep inside, that makes them cry on those lonely nights when they share their souls of love to the swirling neon lights
The folkie with his Martin, tuned to an open chord, dressed in jeans and flannel singing ‘bout the wars, of history past, and of possible things to come, of revolution at the wrong end of a gun pale by comparison to the swirling neon lights
The blues man with his snappy hat and guitar stained by man, is doing his best to understand those songs he loves the most; the songs of a troubled time, of whiskey and women and death and prison without the swirling neon lights
The relic takes the stage singing songs of before, songs about used to be, and memories and more, songs about the good times and the lines on his face, songs about the perfect love and how it got replaced, songs about foreign lands and ships and stormy seas, just him and his Tele and the teardrop reflecting the swirling neon lights
Copyright © Dewey Fleetwood | Year Posted 2017
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