A Poem that Rhymes!

Poets are not academics (though some are) or highly educated men and women (though they may be), but most of them are ordinary everyday people with the desire to express something fun or meaningful or turbulent or painful or joyful and so on and so on (you choose).

Many are computer nerds, taxi drivers, hamburger flippers at McDonald's, cleaning men and women, students, drug addicts, police officers, shoe sales people, firemen, some doctors (yes it happens), teachers (okay, that may be obvious), presidents (you never know). Anyway, my point is--is there a point? Not sure. There is no rule or regulation as to who can and should write poetry--or anything else for that matter.

That brings me to a poem of my own. Nothing serious, just a fun play with words. So, please don't take it seriously. It really isn't meant to be taken seriously.

Here we go, a silly poem that rhymes--well somewhat:

A Poem that Rhymes 

On the deck in front of my room

at Cambria Pines Lodge

a little after noon

I’m tempted to snooze

but my undone work

wraps around my neck like a noose.

It is so tight

I want to fight

but then I see the light

and throw pen and paper out of sight.

I’d rather go for a walk

I don’t need to talk

or sing like a lark.

I sigh and admit

that this sounds like shit

but write I must

even if nothing

comes out of it.

There’s nothing to say

that hasn’t already been said

I’ve nothing to say

at the end of the day.

Oh, the freedom of silence

around me and in my mind

so I gaze at the highland

in the distance and pray

and so it’s okay

that I’ve nothing to say.

Amen.

Dreaming and Research - Central Coast of California

One of my favorite types of research for my novels is traveling to different places where my characters live and work. This time, I spent a few days in one of my favorite spots in California, namely in Cambria at the Cambria Pines Lodge. Since the fictitious Segantino family lives in the wine region of the Central Coast in California, the Paso Robles area was on my itinerary as well. And last but not least, I checked out the California Polytechnic State University or Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo. This is the place where Julietta Santucci, a major character in The Wine Lover's Daughter series, studies architecture and environmental design.

Here are a few pictures of my vacation/research in beautiful San Luis Obispo county.

Cambria Pines Lodge, Cambria

Cambria Pines Lodge is situated on a hill above the town of Cambria and is a charming lodge with beautiful gardens, the perfect place to dream and write.

A very special kind of flower bed

 A garden with organically grown herbs and vegetables they use for cooking is also part of the landscape.

View from my room

A couple of miles north of Cambria is a famous elephant seal spot. These amazing animals come here year after year to breed, raise their young, and relax between their long and arduous migrations in the Pacific Ocean. Every season has its own kind of spectacle. In September, the young males are jousting playfully, preparing for the serious and often bloody fights for dominance and their chosen females.

Of course, a visit to the famous wine region around Paso Robles, the imaginary home of the Segantino family, is mandatory!

Next stop is San Luis Obispo, where I took a brief walk through the Cal Poly campus, a well-known technical and agricultural university.

Another important spot that plays a role in my next novel is the Benedictine monastery in San Luis Obispo, but time ran out and I had to postpone this for another visit. There is always a reason to come back to this beautiful area of California.

Surprise Find - New "old" Poems

I was browsing through my Writing directory and came across a folder I totally forgot about, called Poems 2000. These are poems I wrote around the year 2000 and after reading a few, I decided to review them and perhaps use them in a new poetry volume.

Here is one of them. Not sure what made me write it--perhaps an old man sitting on a park bench or memories of my father? 

I hope you'll enjoy it!

The Old Man and his Memories

He always walks the same street

stops at the same coffee shop

sits at his favorite table

looking lonely and somewhat bored

Today is different; today his eyes

accentuated by the blue hat

are deep and longing

he scans the sky

as if he heard the spirits of lost friends

converse with one another

somewhere above the evening clouds

He’s holding a long-stemmed rose

a perfect bud of red with white tips

who knows which young girl

took pity on an old man

quite decently dressed

alone and possibly ill

the blotchy skin

one edge of his mouth drooping

and the hands unsteady

signs of a past stroke

Perhaps he’s thinking of that night

he walked along the beach

of the flecks of gold on the horizon

of his wife, long dead,

who used to love sunsets

of his married daughter who lives in France

and the grandchild, a girl with long dark hair,

who sends him letters in French

he barely understands but

delights in anyway

I don’t have it bad

he probably thinks

a place to live

a few friends

you can’t ask too much at my age

an occasional phone call from overseas

the usual invitation to come and visit

We’ll take you to Paris

didn’t you always want to go there?

No, not anymore, not without his wife

it would be too sad to always be reminded

how much she would have enjoyed it

more than he who’d really rather stay home

but he would have gone to please her

but now there is no reason anymore

His daughter and the family come to visit

once in a while for a few weeks

the young girls passing by the coffee shop

remind him of her; she used to have long hair

braided the French way

Tonight, perhaps, he’ll sort out

the old photos in the cardboard boxes

and stick them into albums

which he had been planning to do for a long time

only to abandon the task

feeling the life flow out of him and settle

in memories of past adventures

past loves

Sometimes, before falling asleep,

voices from within the bedroom walls

convince him that someone is still alive there

He’s smiling now

a slightly crooked smile

one corner of his mouth pointing upwards

the other one hanging down.