THE POET AND THE BOTTLE GREEN
High noon and springtime when no man cast a shadow
The gull high above and the worm in the cove
Wind blowing the dragons flying over the village
I stood at the cliff overlooking the stones
The destination of currents in the salted air
There on the black rocks below the ledge
Sat the young man from Swansea who was talked about
Fire red locks the aura surrounded him
Pen in the right hand, bottle in the left
Black Mountain wool, the fabric of his cloak
Raised in the language of the ancient kings
And whispering the tune of Myfanwy
In time as the bottle was emptied and dry
The pages as full as the ocean before him
The young poet sat staring at the border of home
To the sound of the infinite thunder of waves
It was then I foresaw what was to occur
The parchment rolled and into the flask
Re-corked and kissed with a solemn salute
This athlete of words gave a mighty heave
As if a log he was tossing forth
While the pipes were lamenting a loving loss
Now both disappeared, the boy and the bottle
Into time and space their trajectory led them
The poet into hearts and history dwelled
The bottle a mysterious carrier of dreams
To this day I am haunted by the lot of this treasure
Does it float on the surface between the worlds?
Does it lie on the floor of the echoing sea?
Was it rescued by a young lass strolling barefoot in the sand
And read through her tears broken hearted and forlorn
Not realizing the source of such energy released?
I share with you this story, anonymous no longer
As true as the book you now cradle in your arms
That the Son of the Sea gave back to the water
The secret of the poet and the bottle green
MA SALAMA SITTO
now as I sit in the middle of the courtyard
glass and concrete raining from the sky
the ground beneath my body rumbling violently
smoke and fire burning everywhere
my neighbours running blindly through the street
fathers screaming, mothers’ endless wailing
blackened bodies lifeless on the corner
others blown apart among the rubble
this is not the dream that I could wake from
this is really happening before my eyes
I tried to stand, to walk, to run for shelter
but my thoughts could not convince my legs to move
I could not recall the impact or the inferno
but my heart was telling me I was still alive
Sitto, Sitto, please wake up
she lay face down in a pool of blood
her shoes were scattered across the road
what could I possibly have known
or understood beyond the fear and pain
the softness of the hand that once held mine
now turned to stone, broken, cold as ice
this beauty that had taught me how to kneel
and pray for Allah’s perfect peace
this voice that sang so softly as I slept
and lit the votive candle at my bed
from the north in Tripoli she travelled
to meet the boy to whom she offered grace
I remember the days before the blood and hunger
before the sound of rockets filled the air
when days were filled with dandelions and flat bread
tonight I have no home, no food, no family
before tomorrow’s sun, I surely will be dead
El Vaquero
el vaquero held hands with a long haired latina
she said "gracias" when she was finished
singing of love in a soaring soprano
her feet bore the miles she had travelled
through streets of punishment and devocion a la libertad
yes, they were one for a moment in history
under the moon on its well-worn path
they smiled and opened their mouths
with her fingers she dipped the cornbread in butter
her dress was black silk with roses of sienna
he tasted the desert on her neck where her earring dangled
she sang - "padre nuestro que estas en los cielos"
as he reached up to pick a raven from the sky
now filled with lightning and cleansing rain
"the beauty of time is that it has no master"
she whispered, as he ran his finger across her lips
the wind was a vehicle to carry them there
there - where they listened to the entrance bells of heaven
there - where life formed in the womb of the universe
there - where el spiritu santo has no end
there - in an instant of clarity eternal
Here Lies Beating a Heart of Stone
here lies beating a heart of stone
cast in the image of one awake
whose breath is the waters of a flowing river
the small and the great on the banks observing
one who demands not and neither seeks
the shimmer of a pebble delicately mined
then forsaken aimlessly from the steps overlooking
and there it will sleep for a lifetime or two
as time rejoices and replenishes its stream
this wheel that turns, this honour imagined
on every star in countless galaxies
the courage required to live in silence
to acquire distance and detachment
now as the universe contracts and expands
the urge to speak, to sing, to scream
revelations that we are ignited and burning
and this heart is a furnace that welcomes visitation
unable to deny or diminish or destroy
a journey so short as to be measured
by one who casts a gaze into clear water
to find a stone shining in the sediment below
oh sweet chemistry animated
spirit fertilized in this garden of flesh
at once a seed that has taken its root
invisibility bearing fruit, yes but the print upon a surface
remains undetected for a thousand years
now identified as the wanderer who walked this bridge
and offered the evidence of such existence
beneath an overgrown path, nourished and green
lies a document formed on a day of remembrance
by a presence alive regardless of passages
precious metal forged in the heat of one passion
that brings us together alone and divine
we are here, we are now, and we wait for no one
and nothing will stop us as we pour forth our love
this sensation is our vehicle, we are the visitor
and smooth is the silk upon which we merge
true is the urgency and the comfort we share
in the freedom that binds these hopeless endeavours
that this too must pass, and yet live forever
Joe Kidd is a working, award winning, poet/songwriter from Detroit. In 2020, The Invisible Waterhole, a collection of spiritual and sensual verse was published and awarded by the Michigan Governor's Office and the United States House of Representatives. Joe is the current Beat Poet Laureate for the State of Michigan 2022-2024, and Official Poet of the Government of Birland North Africa. He holds an Honorary Doctorate from International Union Peace Federation. With partner Sheila Burke he has toured Europe, North America, & Caribbean Islands, featured in international anthologies, magazines, websites, festivals with personal appearances in 33 states and 14 countries. Joe is a member of National & International Beat Poet Foundation, 100 Thousand Poets For Change, Society of Classical Poets, Michigan Rock & Roll Legends Hall Of Fame, much more.
Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Joe-Kidd/e/B089QYDXSM
Face Book Page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063704010587
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