Travel Poetry – 2

Travel poem number 2 about Istanbul.

Returning from drinking a sage tea in a cafe near some tombs I get off the tram;

the cars screech to a halt at the red light as I dodge by the man selling dancing mutant zebras.

People are buying clothes from a pile on the pavement as a salesman calls out the prices.

The humidity is high.

A stallholder presses fresh orange juice and the restaurant is still open;

men are sitting on wooden chairs on the pavement chatting as the traffic zooms by on the flyover.

Cats miaow and hiss over a discarded kebap and a dolmus is waiting to travel to a distant suburb.

The tour operator still wants me to go to Georgia tomorrow.

It is nearly midnight in Aksaray in Istanbul

 

Travel Poetry – 1

I have decided to try a new genre called Travel Poetry – I hope you like it.

Small squads of tourists heading to the palace in Kadriorg Park, each with a different photo to take,

It is a mini-Versailles according to the locals.

The President’s pink house is there for all to see

cyclists,

sunbathers,

walkers,

chatterers on seats,

duck watchers,

beautiful blondes dressed in black without a hair out of place even in the breeze, sitting at cafes drinking lattes and being seen.

Trams dropping off tourists who ask is this the right place?

Lawns,

trees,

pathways,

shade and,

bright, bright sunlight illuminating the other half of my bench.

People asking is he writing about us?

No.

Fountains playing that same endless game,

gardens reflecting in ponds, and

parents pushing strollers

This is Kadriorg Park.

 

Word hoards: masterpieces of concrete poetry – in pictures

Poets such as Ian Hamilton Finlay and Augusto de Campos have shaken words out of standard verse structure and rearranged them in striking, enigmatic new forms. Here are some of the teasing, amusing and vivid results

Let’s go to … Swansea

Dylan Thomas’s birthplace is celebrating its native poet with the first annual Dylan Day on 14 May. We look at attractions poetry-related and not, plus where to eat, sleep and, of course, raise a glass to the great man