Tuesday, April 7, 2015

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.

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