Twas on a distant continent

A fragrant lily land

Of sweet and tumbling coconuts

Aground on salty sand

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Our young wayfaring heroine

Set off to meet her fate

To find a deeper meaning

Leave behind her urban mates

 

Back pack filled with sentiments

That only one this age

Would think to bring on such a trip 

And drag from stage to stage

 

A keepsake from her childhood

Harmonica in G

Mythology By Campbell

A ribboned diary

 

The flight was bottom dollar

All She could afford

“Twas in another lifetime”

When people smoked onboard

 

And grazing over hazy smog

The plane made plain descent

The air was thick as pork trotters

The tiny room was bent

 

 

But morning comes to all who wait

Behold the starfruit cart

A train was paid for second class

She hoped it would depart

 

And when the rattling grew quiet and 

Journey's end made clear

She stretched her neck and passed on sales

Of crackling and warm beer

 

On tiptoes she did wend her way

Through fetid streets of smog

Past bowls of eels and skinless ducks

And flies and boney dogs

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And every day she heard herself

Repeat the mantra clear

No thank you, No I don’t need those

Till she began to fear

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Not fear for loss of bag or shoes

Or fear of falling in

The Lavatory which overflowed

Or fear of cultural sin

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But fear that saying no all day

Would corrugate her soul

That she of modest notes and coins

Appeared a well of gold

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Her No became much less polite

The children were relentless

The men she tried to step around

The quest for peace was pointless

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And so one morning at the dawn

When mosque let out its crow

She packed her things with careful haste

Declared it time to go

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The next bus south to quiet lakes

It took more than a day

The hairpin bends round clifftop edge

A fever all the way

 

But lo the fever passed at last

And weary she did wake

She looked down from the mountain edge

To blue volcanic Lakes

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A day or two she slept and slept

 Regained her human skin

Then wandered down unto the Lakes

And put her toes there in………

 

The mountains dripped like sandcastles

Around the water’s edge

She spied a little wooden boat

Asleep on grassy ledge

 

Excuse me, Could I take the boat

The caretaker took pause

He looked at her then at the Boat

Considering her cause

 

You can take it just a little

Don’t go out too long

This canoe is not a good one

Currents can be strong

 

I’ll take it thank you kindly

Woke the tiny boat

Dragged it to shore

Set the thing afloat

 

The sun shone down like childhood

Not a whisper in the air

She rowed it out into the lake

Not a soul was there

 

The Mountains seemed to cast a spell

She felt them pull her near

She kept no track of time or pace

The lake was aqua clear

 

Hmm little boat you’re not so bad

You work just fine I think

And so she stopped and turned her round

And then began to sing

 

She sang out to the mountains

She sang out to the shore

Then lay down in the little boat

And sang and sang some more

 

The sun shone down the wind was soft

The Lake was timeless still

She drifted there in perfect peace

No call for thought or will

 

And when at last she broke the spell

And rose to turn her home

She felt the wind upon her cheek

And little specks of foam

 

 

The sky had shed its summer coat

And thrown on winter grey

The lake was rippling churning peaks

The sun now dipped away

 

Oh well I’ll get the boat in fast

No need to be alarmed

She dropped the oar in picked a tune

Lets see if she’ll be charmed

 

The little boat seemed smaller now

Her temperament was altered

She wouldn’t go towards the shore

Like frightened beast she faltered

 

And every time the oar went in

She just spun in a ring

Sideways backward round and round

Not forward for anything

 

The fishing boats from distant plots

Charged swiftly for the shore

The rain began to spit, she thought

Have I trespassed a law?

 

The mountains seem so angry now

The Lake won’t let me go

The boat goes round like rabid cat

My arms are aching so

 

And in her heart she felt a fear

That rose up to her eyes

If you don’t get this boat back in

Its possible you’ll die

 

No one knows you’re out here

Or really cares no doubt

Just a silly tourist girl

Who took boat way out

 

And fear then turned to anger

I’m not a silly girl

You drew me out here mountain spell

This Lake and boat as well

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I’ll not be made a fool of

We had an understanding

Now spit me out you beastly lake

And throw me on the landing

 

And so where singing once had been

Now cursing all about

You Bloody Mother Fucker

You better spit me out

 

And fought it all the way she did

Pulling with the oar

Swearing till her lips were blue

Crawling to the shore

 

And when the wet bedraggled girl

At last put feet to sand

The caretaker just shook his head

Did you not understand?

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The rain upon the bungalow

The candle by the door

Ok Mountains , Ok Lake

Lets call this one a draw.

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