Written in Cuba – Number 2

(Contined from page 16)
 
It is closed
Today is not Thurs to Mon
There is a grand piano
As tourists are allowed to do anything
I lift the lid
My jaw drops open
There are no keys

I lift the lid
This time there are keys
My hands form a chord
I play
There is no sound
I look inside
I see
A tangle of unattached wires
And
A cardboard box

The Grave of José Marti
I am reduced to tears
By the Poet of the Revolution

A place in the sun
A bowl of flowers
A white rose

Caressed by the flag
Sleep well
In your pentagon of bronze

Greetings from another poet
Salud José

Rum Poem
Bacardi factory
Only half hear the guide
I'm writing a poem
For my friend José
I'm not really into rum
And not much rum is into me

Birthplace
I've just returned from a pilgrimage
I've seen where the birth took place
One day it didn't exist
The next day it did
Or maybe it was slower
More painful
But now I am pleased to say
Trova Santiaguera
And Salsa
Are doing well

Leaning On A Lamppost
A profile was drawn of me
Of me as I was 20 years ago
I never knew I looked like that
Well I've never seen myself from that direction

I could have made a fortune
Doing George Formby impersonations
Sideways on of course

Writing
I knew I'd be inspired by Cuba
But I haven't stopped writing
Maybe
The God of Poets
Comes from round here

Acclimatisation
I'm getting used to the weather
To the heat
To the humidity
I'm getting used to walking through pea soup
Does that mean
I'm changing into a pea

Cross Over
This afternoon the stars increase by two
But only for this afternoon
Our oven is pretty good
But this one is magnificent
Though
I wish I could
Turn the regulo down

There are compensations
The best pizza
Drinks of crushed fruit
And micro ice
Afternoon rain
And complete with strings
And keys
A piano

Going Down
Santiago sunset
Sculptures in ice
The shape of things just been
Always changing
Always the same
The shutter slams down
The chisel and mallet
Are put away for another day

Joke ?
Q:  What is often found inside Wales
There are four legs and many tales

A:  A couple of storytellers from Cardiff

Lethargy
I could write of
Boring dancers
An out of tune singer
Who I prey will trip over the mic lead
Of People who have to think
Before they write their sex in their passport
But why bother

The Man With No Nickname
There is this guy in our group
Whose nickname in Spanish is
" "
In English his nickname is is
"H"
But in Spanish it is
" "

Birth Of A Beverage
They tied the Indian to a post
Were about to light the fire
When the priest stopped the proceedings
He made the sign of the cross
And asked if there was any last wish

The proud head lifted
And the Indian spoke
"Man could I do with a cold beer"

Care
It's nice sometimes to be alone
Here at Nispero
Surrounded by water
Surrounded by music
Eating slivers of
Giant radish and melon
Listening to a captive bird
Trying in vain to shake itself free
The sun leans down

It is so beautiful
It is so polluted
We carefully put our rubbish in a bucket
They carefully throw it overboard

Intruder
Naked she lies sleeping
Her curved body
Defined by the whiteness of the sheet
Dreams begin to twist and turn
Writhing into
Nightmares

A well dressed woman
Bangles silenced
Glides through the unlocked door
A predator

She misses or ignores the sleeper
Who wakes herself with a scream
Covering her awake not-awake body
She tries to rise from the bed
Her legs will not move

By the time the nightmare is over
The room is empty

Power Cut
Between high noon and sunset
Comes the rain
Copper cumulus
Vapour towers
Threatening
The rain thuds down
Angry macho rain
Penetrating the compliant earth
Galloping horsemen in the sky
Lights flashing

I sit at a table
In total blackness
Trying to find my mouth
With a forkful of cold beans
I hope I am unsuccessful

Jazz
After walking Daniel like
Through a furnace
We arrive at a cool walled garden
A band is rehearsing
They play one jazz number
Then back to salsa
I play congas and timbales with them
Great
But I pray for some more jazz
I am becoming salsafied
The Independent Lift
I admire independence
People who can think for themselves
People who don't follow the crowd
I admire independence
Even in a lift

I get in at floor one
And press the button for four
The lift grins and goes down
I've tried various combinations of buttons
The lift always goes down first

I can't win but
At least I've got A New Proverb
"You have to go down to go up"

Clean
I am the cleanest man
In the world
Up at 7
Wash
Swim
Shower
Afternoon
Wash
Swim
Shower
Let me put it another way.....
Actually I can't just now
Must dash
Time for a wash

Crossing
Across the road
There is heaven
Crossing the road is hell
Across the road
There are batidos;
Liquidised fruit with dried milk
And minute ice crystals which
Disappear as soon as
They are recognised

Across the road
There are helados and fruit
In a quiet spacious empty bar

Crossing the road
They offer you friendship
Even their bodies
For a few dollars

San Pedro de la Roca del Morro
I flop in an old wood chair
Gaze through a wooden barred window
At stone steps leading up to the cannon
Pirates came here - almost
Henry Morgan
They never took this place
High above the
Mar Caribe

Now it has been taken...
By the tourists
Even the shades of buccaneers
Arrive in a coach
Before crossing the drawbridge
And walking through the walls

Crabs cower in the towers
To avoid capture
By the new pirates
Babbling voices
Keelhaul the silence
Clicking cameras
Drown out the surf

I escape for a while
Frank Morgan
Pirate extrodinaire
The scourge of Spain
(Or at least the Spanish language)
I escape for a while with Henry's help
To this prison
But too soon
I am recaptured
And made to walk the plank
Back to the bus
 
Better Than Euros
I have thought of
A new currency
Fruit

There are some advantages e.g.
Money would grow on trees
And disadvantages-
It could be messy
Getting the fruit from dispensing machines

A sample transaction might be;
"2 pound of spuds pleases"
"Right, that will be 4 apples"
"Sorry, I've only got a melon"
"That's OK, I can split that,
But you'll have to take the change
In apricots"
 
Birth Of a Beer
After burning Hatuey
They put his ashes in an empty bottle
And forgot about it

Seasons changed
The bottle filled with rain water
The water evaporated
The bottled filled again

Years slid slowly by
Then one day
A thirsty hombre
Finding the bottle
Put it to his lips
"Ah" he said
"Is good"

Castle Visit
Santiago de Cuba
Here today
And
Gone to Morro

Lift Of Dreams
I fell asleep in a lift once
And dreamt I was going to heaven
I noticed a gold plated plaque on the wall
It read 'Made by G Od and Son Devon'

There was Peter and all the disciples
Of that I am more or less certain
Luke was putting a new pair of wings on
Quite discreetly behind a silk curtain

Pete blessed me then took off his halo
Which he hung on a heavenly hook
I was just about to ask him why
But he gave me a very strange look

He had on a white saintly nightie
The label said 'John Lewis Store'
He tried to come over and bless me again
But his nightie got caught in the door

In one corner they started a rock group
It was made up of heavenly stars
St Peter played on a fishing rod bass
The disciples played 12 string guitars

We soon reached the end of our journey
For heaven I just couldn't wait
They all entered
And I thought T'd follow
But the last bugger in shut the gate

Holes In the Wall
Three of us
Got a cab to Moncada Barracks
July 26th and all that
Same photos as Havana
But the bullet holes in the wall
are different
Walked back through the mean streets of Santiago
Saw a group of black boys playing basketball
Thought of 'Suddenly Last Summer'
And walked a bit faster
Arrived at Las Americas
Feeling very brave

Coffees
There are three types of Cuban coffee
Fuerte
Normal
And
Homeopathic