I can't stand Willy wet-leg,
can't stand him at any price.
He's resigned, and when you hit him
he lets you hit him twice.
(D H Lawrence)
Cape Horn
Withering finger
leading eyes
to the globe's
southern pivot
Mountains, coffee,
tangos and beef
finally drown in
un-named waters
Atlantic and Pacific
disputing boundaries
Perpetual pugilism oblivious
of collateral damage
No room for future here
overcrowded with history
albatross, petrel
and cormorant
squeeze between
Magellan, Darwin
and six centuries
of shipwrecks.
(wrm)
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3 comments:
On an Artic Roll.
Water glace, lemon sorbet,
The ice cream dream
Of flavours galore,
So temptingly m o r e -ish;
From pastachio, cookie dough,
Tutti and frutti
With ripples and swirls,
Sauces and toppings,
In cornets or cones
To munch without stopping,
Flake staked as meltdown begins.
There's pavlova, Vienetta,
Just one more Cornetto,
The exotic bombe
And the knickerbocker glory;
But the unique member
Of this chilling story,
Covered in meringue,
And cooked in the oven,
The amazing, delicious,conundrum confection,
A hot ice cream, the dessert of perfection,
The Baked Alaska.
j
Cape horn always appear to be somewhere that should be viewed exclusively from the land if you are a human.
There must be some poem to be written with Ben and Jerry's flavour names (Rocky road etc etc)
Tierra del Fuego.
Unwrought raw nature,
Crude and untempered,
Sonorous storms, furious and wild.
Bleak, rugged landscape,
Inhospitable made friendly,
Ice sculpted topography,glacially styled.
At the tip of the continent,
The end of the nation,
Who but the boldest would venture here,
The tourist, adventurer,
Round the world sailor,
Braves the foggy wet weather that endures all year.
Lit by the magnetic aurora australis,
Enjoying the extravagance of the southern lights,
A dazzling display of superluminescence,
The end of the world show,night after night.
j
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