i sailed the world
in the course of my life
my dreams the wind
on which i glided
'cross waves
flecked with foam
past islands
rich with my imagining;
lands soft with silk
and glorious with gold
gifted with spices,
cakes, sweets untold
i knew the dreams
of which all men were made
sang the songs
the women taught me
and finally
i came to rest
as
a little boy
of my own imagining
setting sail
in
the mystery
of my own becoming self
Such a resonant post, Steven and the picture you share is wonderful. It brings back the endless summers of childhood and fuels an ache in my mind and memory that can only be described as longing.
ReplyDeleteHi Steven,for me this is like you are working on a raw diamond of your words,polishing it,reshaping it and than introducing it to the daylight and it is like a music for me.If I was a composer I would gladly made a music piece for it than send it over to Delwyn's so we can all watch sailing ships going their way.Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteThank you! :)
ALeks is right. This poem begs to be set to music.
ReplyDeletehello elisabeth - when i saw this painting i had no direct connection in terms of experiencing what the boy is doing but more of a sense of all that wa simplied in what he was doing. it resonated for me also. the words tumbled out in a sort of old-fashioned form, feeling something like the books i read as a child. i'm glad you experienced something of the same longing i did. steven
ReplyDeletealeks thanks for those kind and generous words. there are times when it would be nice, possibly even good, to sail away on the boats of our imagining. steven
ReplyDeletehello barry! if anyone would like to put those words to music, make their fortune and then donate the results into cancer research i'm in!!! cheers lad, steven
ReplyDeleteYour poem would be lovely to illustrate, using bold block letters for younger readers and for older eyes- the appeal covers the spectrum. There's another idea to make dollars for Cancer research.
ReplyDeleteI love this. Makes me feel good. Thanks so much for sharing it, Steven.
ReplyDeleteA poem full of innocence and hope.
ReplyDeletehappy little boy, may all little boys have a dream and boat to sail.
ReplyDeleteThe opening, the blossoming and blooming and fruiting (is that a word?) of life is ongoing, forever and ever. Thanks for this!
ReplyDeletelinda sue - i have a strong visual in my mind of that book. perhaps it's the book i've always wanted to write! my heart's pitter-pattering just wondering if this is it! steven
ReplyDeletehi boomer - i'm so glad it made you feel good. i really like it myself. funny how some posts just hum so well for us. steven
ReplyDeletehelen - you see the essence of my intentions so often!!! steven
ReplyDeletefriko - yes. when i was little i was known as a very happy little boy. "don't lose that laugh" was the advice the baker who worked next door wrote in my goodbye book to me when i left england. don't lose that laugh. i laugh a lot. i wonder if it's the laugh he knew? steven
ReplyDeletereya, fruiting's a word for sure!!! i'm glad you saw inside this and spent some time there. steven
ReplyDeletesimply splendid!
ReplyDeletelove this one...a little boy and his boat, ready to sail into his dreams...
ReplyDelete