Noel Negele- Two Poems

A Summer Poem I Wrote Before Heading For The Beach Bar.

At the beach today

I noticed a woman nearing obesity

lying on a deck chair 

she was smearing oil 

all over the wrinkled extents 

of her body

to get a tan

besides the first feeling of disgust

that I naturally felt

looking at her oiled palms

diving in the doubles of her belly

I also wondered

the ways nature

has programmed us

to be so comfortably unconscious 

about the inevidability and totality

of our end

and live life

as we live it

this reverential repetition 

of all things

like the the process of tanning

because that middle aged woman

like so many

has done that and will continue to do that

for a long time

I kept looking at that woman

feeling peculiar inside

and confused

like I so often feel

the look on her face

serious and focused

with the upper lip

coating the bottom lip

the movements of her hands

slow and rhythmic--

as if the whole process was

a sacred ritual to her

as I was watching her

I imagined her lying on many

deck chairs and beds and other surfaces

in the duration of her life

younger, older, old

in different landscapes

some times alone

most times with friends or family

I imagined her skin

from youthfully velvet

to mature and age 

with the passing of time

while tanning

and whitening

successively with the seasons

and finally hanging

and decomposing

in the pit of a large pot hole

under a piece of ciment 

in a rectangle shape

on which 

the most useless information will be carved

like her name

and her birth date 

and death date

nothing trully valuable

or capable to remind a stranger 

that she was once something living

with experiences, preferences and ego

the name is a cold thing

and the dates are shere numbers

useful only to our little appointments

this middle aged woman

would become a memory

and the minds in which she would reside as such

would also become memories themselves

all finally photographs

old enough

for no one to care to look at us

so lets not take all this

too seriously.

I Love You

The words turn back towards the mouth

as one more lonesome sunrise 

climbs over another

the sky is a crumbling foliage

the buildings smile while crying

and all the people are vampires

and all the people are vampires

and you remember her

the way she walked in and out of you

like sunlight penetrating clouds

unchained and unspoiled by misery

as you both tried to create a love that would go on

even after you'd both stumble and get flattened under time

but you failed somewhere along the way

and the lover's face became a memory

that lost all feeling sooner than you expected

in the end you're left 

shaving in the morning

wondering about

how many chances

are there left 

for you.