Arthur, I really admire those who can write long
poems like this one.  Parts of the language work
better for me than others.  I find 'salad green'
perhaps a little strained and tired.  'Folded in
fancy' is brilliant as is 'cities of ice sliding
through silent seas'  I think 'I heard' (stanza 4)
would work better than 'I have heard' and wonder if
the ending might be:
    My atlas is closed now-
    on the bottom shelf...
I can remember spending hours with my atlas as a child
though my imaginings were not nearly so vivid as
yours.  Thanks for the read. cheers, cara


-- Arthur <[log in to unmask]> wrote: >
> When I was salad green,
>
> knee high to a bookcase,
>
> long winter evenings I lay,
>
> legs crooked, chin cupped,
>
> folded in fancy
>
> beside the great oven of our bakery,
>
>  thence, I circumnavigated
>
>  this bright blue globe
>
> on the magic carpet
>
> of my Atlas and Gazette.
>
>
>
> With daring fingers I picked a careful path
>
> through Hindu Kush
>
> where daylong shadows loomed
>
> and echoes upon echoes flew
>
> from grim parapets resounding.
>
>
>
> I stood, fearless,
>
> on the walls of Ulan Bator
>
> as winds from the long plains
>
> plucked at my padded tunic;
>
> heard the distant rolling thunder
>
> of the great Khan's hordes
>
> marauding westwards.
>
>
>
> I have heard the wolf gales howl
>
> over Novaya Zemlya's shores
>
> where cities of ice slide through silent seas
>
> and the lone seal barks.
>
>
>
> Samarkand and its road of gold.
>
> Astrakhan, Petra, Panama, Tiero del Fuego
>
> slid under my fingers
>
> as I roamed with the winds and currents.
>
>
>
> In quinquiremes I sailed
>
> past the Dodecanese, Minoan Crete, the Peloponese,
> Cyclades,
>
> Ithaca!
>
>
>
> Stood in clamorous sweltering souks and smelled
>
> the spicy breezes of Zanzibar
>
> as blue-black shining slaves
>
> acquired their chains.
>
>
>
> I have staggered, under beating sun,
>
>  the golden sands of Gobi
>
> and heard
>
> the camels cough and slobber in the dark
>
> or listened to the midnight moans of singing sands.
>
>
>
> Slogged, in my slippers,
>
> over lands white and blue with eternal ice
>
> that cracked and splintered in perpetual night.
>
>
>
> Tundra, Steppe, Pampas,
>
> Prairie, Desert, Equatorial Forests dim,
>
> were my domain
>
> while winter beat its rain-run wings
>
> against my windows.
>
> Himalayan avalanches roared
>
> as coke in the belly of the oven
>
> glowed, paled to ash and shifted.
>
>
>
> Later I accepted
>
> more modest contours
>
> for my life;
>
> imagination tied to earth
>
> bounded by proscriptions of  reality;
>
> fettered by family and fidelity.
>
> My land was coloured then
>
> an even and undemanding brown.
>
>
>
> Fate winked and smiled.
>
> Since when, I've wound my way
>
> twice round this planet home;
>
> slept under crackling desert stars
>
> and known the chill kiss
>
> of the Saharan night;
>
> seen the marlin leap, the turtle scull,
>
> dolphins shepherd tuna for the kill,
>
> under an umbrella of raucous frigates,
>
> black and broken in the murderous light;
>
> winged over reefs
>
> where seas were unbelievable blues;
>
> watched flying fish flitter over tropical waves
>
> as phospherent wakes unfurled abaft;
>
> been woken by the parrots' storming;
>
> the wild dog's bemoaning of the moon;
>
> heard the express train roar
>
> over the thick canopy of bush
>
> as rods of rain pelted
>
> leaf and bloom;
>
> watched petals fall on forest pools
>
> as the huge moon galleoned the night;
>
> all my oven-coddled dreams come true
>
> and yet I have come home.
>
>
>
> Home.
>
> The sodden peaty reek of moors;
>
> wind off the tops, a whetted blade;
>
=== message truncated ===


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