Inspired by the poet Billy Collins, Martin's poems share experiences from walking in Iceland, exploring exciting European Cities, Bhutan and Nepal in 1978, when it was relatively free of tourism.
Inspired by the poet Billy Collins, Martin's poems share experiences from walking in Iceland, exploring exciting European Cities, Bhutan and Nepal in 1978, when it was relatively free of tourism.
Episode 32 Traveling Memories
I love Billy Collins travel poems because he evokes delightful feelings and then hits you with a shocking surprise. Here are a few lines to illustrate from Istanbul about his visit to a Turkish bath house:
…..but it was not until he sudsed me
behing my ears and between my toes
that I felt myself filling with gratitude ….
…and I gave general thanks that I was lying
facedown in a warm puddle of soap
and not in a warm puddle of blood
in some corner of this incomprehensible city.
Thanks Billy for inspiring me, so here come my poems
ICELAND
Its a cold windy day reminding me of Iceland
walking from hut to hut
following the rushing river
uphill to its glacial source
alongside countless waterfalls and rainbows.
Through emerald green plateaus
across the black and white field
of volcanic sand and dirty ice.
Across the glacier to the volcano’s cone
sulfurous steam exploding under my boots
as i reach for the hot multicolored rocks:
shades of orange, red, yellow and purple
warming my fingers through my gloves.
After 5 days and nights coming down,
to the unpronounceable town,
slipping into the geothermal waters,
the community pool and hot tubs
cooking people like lobsters.
Then trapped in Reykjavik by Sandy
its a perfect time,
a wild music festival enlivens,
heavy metal on stage,
poets on street corners,
folk music from balconies.
If only they wouldn’t eat those beautiful puffins,
I would love these Icelanders.
BHUTAN
Flying into Paro almost touching the steep mountains,
The holy Himalayas of Bhutan
releasing snow to bless the world,
flowing through praying water wheels.
Every day the snowy peaks change,
Sunrise silver to sunset golden glows
as gross national happiness grows.
They celebrate the king’s birthday
stick dancing gracefully hopping
at just the right moment,
avoiding bruised or broken ankles
as the sticks click and crack together.
Sleeping at 10,000 feet
in our cozy little tents,
woken by a silent knock
and a cup of hot chai.
On top of the world
in pure clean air
better than a luxury hotel,
Where this pristine world
is protected by Buddha’s mantras,
preserves cultural traditions,
men in knee socks and tartan kilts,
and painted wooden penises
on the corners of every home.
You won’t find those in Scotland!
REMEMBERING YOUNGER YEARS
Towns were lively and exciting for us,
the colorful, noisy streets of Bombay,
the amazing architecture of Gaudi
and food in Barcelona,
The passionate Fada singing,
tapas and Duro valley wines in Lisbon.
The early morning smells of fresh croissants
and soft ripe brie in the markets of Paris,
The rolling hills and inviting ploughmans pub lunches
in Bath.
Then there is the adventure and quietness
of our expeditions away from towns and cities.
Our first honeymoon to Gangotri
and the source of the Ganges.
hanging on over the swinging rope bridge,
treading gingerly along the loose rock trail
hoping not to slide down,
to the river hundreds of feet below.
We were young and stronger then,
Happy to huddle together in a pilgrim’s hut.
Now we can explore uninhabited sub antarctic islands
cruising in a French ship with National Geographic,
driving through the waves of the roaring forties
while being served exquisite french pastries
and Marlborough sauvignon blanc.
Getting older brings wisdom and comfort.
NEPAL 1978
I walk alone
down colorful crowded narrow streets
dodging bikes, animals and people
As I walk to Boudha Stupa
past shops with hanging marigold garlands
butchers with hanging red goat meat
and goat heads staring at me.
Past gloriously carved doors
opening to inner courtyards.
There it is, the golden and white stupa,
painted eyes looking out over us,
multicolored strings of flags fluttering
flowing down to the four corners,
Walls holding prayer wheels spinning
as devotees amble along reaching out.
Om Mane Padme Hum.
Wondering into a Tanka workshop
artists taking months to meticulously
paint scenes from the Buddha’s life.
Strolling into the trekking office
getting my permit and a hand drawn map
the trails from Pokhara to Annapurna.
Six hours on the creaky bus,
I am ready to trek.
Not knowing where I will sleep or eat.
Each evening I find a family
in a small hut in a mountain hamlet
welcoming me with open hearts,
sharing food and a space to sleep.
Connecting to the earth
and these delightful people.
communicating without words,
I feel so grateful
I could have this beautiful, simple experience
of Nepal.
Before the crowds of tourists came
to invade them.
Some short explanations:
Nepal - tourism was just starting in 1978 with a few thousand visitors a year. Recently over 1 million visitors a year have been coming into Nepal.many to climb Annapurna and Everest.
Bhutan - in the 15th century Lama Kunley, an eccentric maverick Tibetan saint brought Buddhism to Bhutan. He was known for his philandering ways and the phallus became a symbol to ward off evil spirits and to invoke the fertility gods.
©martinstrasmore2021