and don't forget your irony tablets

T )O(

-----Original Message-----
From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On
Behalf Of arthur seeley
Sent: 19 February 2003 13:08
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: New Sub:Ship Makkit at Patutiva


Taken with 10ml of hyperbole every morning??
----- Original Message -----
From: "alderoak" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Wednesday, February 19, 2003 1:00 PM
Subject: Re: New Sub:Ship Makkit at Patutiva


> You mean proton-pump inhibitors? nah.
> Doing some personal research (n=1) on the new asthma guidelines - hence
> dawdling at home rather than writing inscrutable poems on FP10s.
>
> Prescription
>
> Oxymoron        20mg od (28)
>
> Terri )O(
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On
> Behalf Of arthur seeley
> Sent: 19 February 2003 12:58
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Re: New Sub:Ship Makkit at Patutiva
>
>
> Flatterer. How are things,Terri. Need any advice on PPI's?? Arthur.
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "alderoak" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Wednesday, February 19, 2003 12:48 PM
> Subject: Re: New Sub:Ship Makkit at Patutiva
>
>
> > I remember this - though it seems richer on re-reading. For an old bald
> man
> > with no mistress, you have a sensuous turn of phrase, your Majesty.
> >
> > Terri )O(
> >
> > -----Original Message-----
> > From: The Pennine Poetry Works [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On
> > Behalf Of arthur seeley
> > Sent: 19 February 2003 09:37
> > To: [log in to unmask]
> > Subject: New Sub:Ship Makkit at Patutiva
> >
> >
> > Colin's 'Market' has encouraged me to blow the dust off an old poem.
> >
> >                        Ship Makkit at Patutiva
> >
> >            Tilleys hiss in moth-drummed globes of light,
> > kumaras glow like rubies, couched in grass,
> > drinking nuts piled, brown and plump as Polynesian breasts,
> > tapioca,  starlight-white, snows on glossy leaves,
> > fists of bananas bunch on blushing mangoes;
> > char-grilled pink-cheeked job fish, rich seams of meat,
> > arrayed for viewing in the hot and yammering market,
> > close to the jetty and the sleek lagoon.
> >
> >              Black hands, swift as spiders, fiddle and arrange,
> > leaf-waft  intrusive flies away from translucent melon
> > and oozing plush-fleshed paw-paws ranged over
> > treasured calico, chequered and chintzed and willow-pattern blue.
> > Eyes, bright with betel, dart and compare,
> > secret whispers fix prices, gossip, story and snigger
> > behind the black fans of hand and leaf
> > and always the anxious harking for a distant greeting
> > down the long warm slumbers of the night.
> >
> > The swaying sentinel, palm-perched at perilous height,
> > tears the night with his shrill cry," Uminao! Hem cam noa ia!"
> > and a sigh settles on the market, like a lover on his bride.
> >                  The hush explodes with shouts and squeals of laughter
> > from the hip-wriggling pikininis' bare-arsed jig,
> > the wafting leaves increase in speed as the night bulges
> > with the whale-wide, low-watt-light-swung, rust-scabbed,
> > tyre-swagged, hulk of the Islands' ferry,
> > as it sidles and nudges, with lumbering grace,
> > into the web of a dripping puzzle of ropes to mate with the jetty.
> >
> > Deep pound of diesel mutes to a murmur and the sides clank down.
> > Light and people spill into the mill of the market,
> > silhouettes till lamps define them and then they  melt into the crowd.
> >                     Diesel, sweat, paraffin, trodden earth
> > and slapping sea thicken the air.
> > I sit with friends on long logs beside the stalls
> > apart from this press of strangers.
> >                    We chat and smoke the black tabac in resinous clouds;
> > spit betel-blood to roll in the dust,
> > watch the women at their toilsome tasks of trade,
> > play-act the constant hunt for change, parcel fish in banana leaf,
> > bundle the kasava and nali nuts, sift and twist the powdered shell.
> >
> > The bull-blare of horn informs
> >                                                 and the Uminoa departs.
> >
> >
> > We watch her leave, thinning down the moon -path, fading, gone,
> > then fold the fragments, shake and close the cloths with loving care,
> > scold heedless, past-it pikininis with sharp words and long sticks.
> > Lamps disperse, float up the hill and will-o-the wisp along the shore;
> > canoes down-doppler in fast farewells;
> > cash is counted, tucked and put to hoard.
> > All over the village lights burn a while, then dowse,
> > one last raucous peal of laughter, a dog responds with indignation,
> > then, slowly, silence and the moon folds Patutiva into sleep.
> >
> >
> >                                               Arthur W Seeley
> >
> > Notes. Patutiva is a stopping place for the inter -island ferry of the
> > Solomon Islands.
> > Ship makkit is a weekly market held to catch the passing trade of the
> Ferry
> > which always arrives at night.
> > Uminao is the name of the old ship that is the ferry.The name might
> > translate as 'All of us'
> > 'Uminao hem cam nao ia ' is Pidjin for 'The Uminao is here!'