Antigua Guatemala

Another travel poem written while I was in Guatemala.

 

Antigua Guatemala

El Fuego
El Fuego

Where full moons shine on cobblestones
And sunshine bleaches Mayan bones
Volcanos stand so strong and tall
And often Fuego makes a call
With smoky signals from his crown,
Or, is that a Vulcan frown?
To let all those way down below
See his force and let them know
Just how temporary life can be
While he stands tall for all to see?
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAntigua, where bougainvillea flowers
And Jacarandas send purple showers
Where Mayans walk with grace and sway
Bearing baskets on heads all day,
Where churches fell so long ago
From Hades quakes so far below,
The ruins stand in memory
Reminders for all here to see
That any day or night or year
It could repeat and end right here,OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Antigua could become Pompeii
With no-one left to clearly say
What really happened in this town
When lava flowed the whole way down,
But meanwhile, midst techtonic plates
People live, still tempting fate,
Mayans walk on cobblestones
And sunshine bleaches their old bones.

Helene Jermolajew 2014 ©

My Ithaca

 

Hi all, it’s been a while since I posted my last travel story, life got in the way a little. Today I decided I’ve missed my writing so much and it will be a little while yet before I can post the next story. So…….to fill in the gap I’m going to post some of my travel poems instead. I wrote this first one while in Antigua Guatemala. I read C P Cevafy’s Ithaca. That wonderful poem struck a chord in me and I simply had to write one of my own. I wrote a few poems during my travels, all of them will be in my soon to be published (I hope) poetry collection. I hope you enjoy this temporary change of style.

 

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My Ithaca

(Inspired by the poem ‘Ithaca’ C P Cevafy)

My Ithaca, wherever she may be,
Distant or close
In time and space,
Beauteous or humble
With a shining face
She waits,
As I travel
From birth through death
And back to birth,
From place to place,
My Ithaca waits.

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My Ithaca waits
As I conquer gods of fear
And devils of depths,
Learn from every step,
Wipe away tears wept,
She waits
As I heal
Through sadness and joy,
Through friendships
Old and new,
Through travels
To distant ports
And mountains,
Along smooth paths and cobblestones,
My Ithaca waits
At my journeys end,
Wherever she may be.

Helene Jermolajew
Monday 6 January 2014
La Antigua

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