Palma de Mallorca inspires another poem by John Coyne (Ethiopia)
Ken and John, "at my age, couldn't get past" "The woman in the hotel pool" would require cataracts removed to…
More than twice the size of my small island of Minorca is the island of Majorca or Mallorca, the largest island in the Balearic Islands archipelago that also includes Ibiza and Formentera. I have been to all of them, and you should travel there as well. Here’s a poem that came out of one of my visits to the big island.
Palma Mallorca
Palma De Mallorca
The woman in the hotel pool
swam in steady lengths,
mindless of the Mediterranean,
the yellow sun on harbor walls,
the dance of docked white yachts.
Mindless as well of my gin and tonic,
or Robert Graves, buried
in the thick crust of Deya.
Her blond hair combed
the turquoise water.
Beyond the high tips of palm trees,
Palma de Mallorca rushed by,
while she kept pace in her wet world.
Swimmers know nothing
but their breath,
the pull of muscles,
and coolness of flesh.
She did not know us,
watching her slight body,
tan limbs framed in red.
I moved my drink
with the care given antiques,
wanting to hold
the yellowness of light
caught in my glass,
wanting to hold this last image
of the island and the sea.
But she rose from the water
with a rush,
spraying the terrace deck,
the sunset in the Paseo Maritimo,
this tourist postcard of Spain.
Aloha. Hooray. Another shot across the bow of poetry ship. Ed
Smooth and relaxing as your gin & tonic. I was right there swimming alongside, then couldn’t keep up and returned to the poet and another sip.
at my age, I couldn’t get past the gin and tonic…. Delightful poem! thx. Ken
Ken and John,
“at my age, couldn’t get past”
“The woman in the hotel pool”
would require cataracts removed
to distinguish “Her blond hair combed”
from the whitecaps swelling in the blue,
would beg a few more gin tonics
to fancy “her slight body, tan limbs
framed in red.” But you tapped
the sunset of my mind, long stilled,
with “this tourist postcard of Spain.”