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Gene Williamson

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Around the World in Eighty Lines
by Gene Williamson → (All Poetry by Gene Williamson)
   Rated "G" by the Author.
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I would have written this shorter but
eighty lines take eighty lines.


Not so many summers ago,
wading through the Jersey wetlands,
I inquire of my orange cat,
the one I call by an assumed name,
if she remembers the time in Mesopotamia
when abstracted by a bronze maiden
of mythic origin I fell into the Tigris.
More intent on scrutinizing
a great blue heron stalk a sparrow hawk,
the cat ignores me,
a slight to which I am accustomed.

Rambling thoughts
had conveyed me to the ancient land of Ur
in my quest for fabled Enkidu,
the wild man created by the gods
and companion to Gilgamesh in slaying
the Bull of Heaven,
dispatched to earth by the Babylonian goddess Ishtar
to punish Gilgamesh for two-timing her.

Had it not been for the Tigris incident,
the fault of which lay in scotch quoth the cat,
I would have unearthed the wild man,
rather than limp away in ignominy to join
a nomadic caravan across the Persian sands,
stop to share a jug of wine with Omar the tentmaker,
stagger to Mongolia’s plateau and hang a right
around the Siberian Badlands to the Bering Straits,
where a band of primeval bandits seize my credit
cards, set me adrift on a balsa raft
which pursues the stars through the China Sea,
leaps the Great Barrier Reef,
outraces a Tasmanian tidal wave,
drifts north teasing the Chilean coast,
crashes near the Andean foothills.

There astride an unforgiving llama,
I learn to sing for my dinner in Quechua,
ride the beast to the Mexicali border,
slide on my belly under barbs of tangled wire,
roam aimlessly the Texas range,
watch the deer frolic with the antelope,
and the only discouraging word I hear is mine
as I pause in the sweat of el nino night
to blaspheme the uncloudy skies,
whoop, holler, squall, and caterwaul,
join the legendary StormSpinner
in an off-color rain dance around the Alamo.

Guided by the moon to a shrine near the gulf,
I read erotic poetry to a voodoo goddess
who massages my soul with a wink
from her purple peacock throne
as I kneel upon a necromantic Zen rug
in a lace garden of pink sagebrush.

In the glow of her mystic seashell,
I dog-paddle across Galveston Bay,
thumb a ride east in a dusty pickup truck
loaded with shattered dreams,
make a pit stop in the Queen City,
write on the walls.

Greeted on a warm afternoon breeze
by the scent of Jersey pine
and hint of swamp grass at low tide,
I reach my home strapped to the back
of a Harley FXD.

At nightfall I buy a gallon of aromatic balm,
two-week supply of prehistoric Scotch,
match my neighbor drink for drink
until she tucks me into bed.

As day slips in through the window blinds
I watch my orange cat snare
a chunky swamp swallow
with a bright rufus cap and rusty wings,
which she guts, stuffs, and mounts
on the red kitchen wall beneath
a personally autographed death mask
of Persian prophet Zoroaster who swears
he saw me pushed into the Tigris River
by a resurrected Sumerian in a designer tunic,
and he asks me by special request
to please call the orange cat
by her sacred name Kitty.
 
 

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 Reviews of "Around the World in Eighty Lines"
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on October 8, 2008
"prehistoric Scotch"
God bless your peotic mind/heart/soul/body/ . ..
80 proof of the finest words. ..
surely.
nessa

Reviewed on October 1, 2008
very creative versing Gene, seems you're having fun too

Reviewed by Regis Auffray
Reviewed on September 29, 2008
My kids love cats. I do as well but I don't want any hairs on my carpet. Thank you. Love and peace,

Regis

Reviewed on September 25, 2008
Gene,

Cats is cats, and they have a certain ... cattitude. LOL And when an orange cat requests to be called Kitty, who am I to argue? LOL

You take us around the world in 80 fantastic lines of history, humor and Harleys! Well done, my friend, my new favorite of yours.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

Reviewed by David Hightower
Reviewed on September 25, 2008
Gene - Enjoyed the journey, not only around the world but around time and imagination too. I laughed out loud at the completed circle and the revelation at the end:

of Persian prophet Zoroaster who swears
he saw me pushed into the Tigris River
by a resurrected Sumerian in a designer tunic,
and he asks me by special request
to please call the orange cat
by her sacred name Kitty.

- David

Reviewed by Chantilly Lace (Reader)
Reviewed on September 23, 2008
Oh my,this is wonderful sweet Gene ..I just love how you write sweetie..please never stop OK...keep smiling and stay safe and well...Hugsssssss,much love too you...xoxo

Reviewed by Rose Rideout
Reviewed on September 23, 2008
Gene, I hope you don't mind followers as we are still with you on this journey. Thank you for sharing.

Newfie Hugs, Rose

Reviewed by E T Waldron
Reviewed on September 22, 2008
Bravo! I haven't enjoyed a journey more in I don't
know how long!This is better than the movie;-)
methinks the den has inspired your muse to take a
fantasy trip,and your poetic skills,and geographic
knowledge,lore,and more, have given us a gift! Thank you!

luv,
et

Reviewed by Charlie
Reviewed on September 22, 2008
I went screeeeching across the world with you-- loved the Quechuan song! I know two words in that language: manta (that means town--or city, and it's a suffix--attached at the end of anyword to make it into a town) and chuma (a word that means plain--strait--take your cocoa chuma means with no sugar, cream, or whipped cream...bland!)

I'll take your poem chuma--it's delicious that way! The whole concoction is a marvelous poetrymanta for all to explore and find a home in. Marevelous! Encore! Encore! --Charlie

Reviewed by Jon Willey
Reviewed on September 22, 2008
there is a covert conspiracy here -- I sense it well -- you have cleverly and entertainingly educated us in historical fact, lore and so much more -- the Queen City and I are best friends -- I have spent many and many more weeks in her boudoir -- transferring the knowledge of the latest speak for the greatest career tweak -- I have supped in her culinary venues -- I have plied the tarmac of her race venues in very fast racing machines -- just this past June again -- and remember the ancient Persian proverb that states, "trust in Allah, but tie your camel" -- Jules V would be proud of what you have written here -- thanks, this was a blast -- JMW

Reviewed by Richard Cederberg
Reviewed on September 22, 2008
These mental voyages that you take are intriguing and entertaining. your sense of humor and verve here are reflective of the gift that continually simmers in you.

"I read erotic poetry to a voodoo goddess
who massages my soul with a wink"

This one killed me! (-:

in fraternity ...
richard

Reviewed by Kate Burnside
Reviewed on September 22, 2008
... it's a cat-thing. The cult of the kitty. Love the uniqueness of this wonderful tour, Gene. Forget Indianna Jones... Bruckheimer or Spielberg where are you?! I want the film.... Only Nick Cage will do... OK, guess Angelina Jolie will have to be in there somewhere as well... but EdK can supply the cat. Now I AM getting carried away, but what do you expect with such a magical carpet ride?! :)) xx

Reviewed by Dawn Anderson
Reviewed on September 21, 2008
Your imagination never ceases to amaze me, Gene. This is one incredible and imaginative write!

Reviewed by John Flanagan
Reviewed on September 21, 2008
Stylish, erudite, charming, comprehensive, a lifetime's learning and exploration creatively expressed...where the deer and the antelope play and no discouraging words are heard...home home on...you have me singing and rejoicing, Gene, at the many breaths of fresh air this is.
At your best here!
John

Reviewed by Axilea MU
Reviewed on September 21, 2008
The title is irresistible and so is the poem.
Colorful, entertaining and extremely creative.

Axilea

Reviewed by Myrna Badgerow
Reviewed on September 21, 2008
This was great! Eighty lines you say? Awesome!

Myrna


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