My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: Bay Area

Lost In Campbell-poem

I remember walking home one day
I got lost
tangled in suburbia.
Houses, driveways, warm cement sidewalks,
sunny blue skies.
I’d walk this path before many times
from elementary school and back;
frightened.
“I must have taken a wrong turn.”
My eyes water
I still dream about it.
walking through familiar streets and alleyways.
The irony of being lost in my hometown
yet at the same time
coming home.

Verdant & Sublime-poem

After the rain
my Bay Area
hills are sublime,

verdant and
emerald green,

Brings Julie Andrew’s
rendition of the
Hills Are Alive With
The Sound Of Music

meaning after
four years of
frightening drought.

Thank you pregnant clouds—
you restored
the picturesque
green hills
I lovingly remember
as an impressionable child.

Salty Eyes

20130803-111930.jpg

Ever wonder what it’s
like to be a sailor?

I’ve met a few
in my days,
men who live for the
great blue yonder.

Men, who’s legs
feel squeamish
and landlocked
when on solid ground.

The ocean for them
is the greener
side of the pastures.

They’re always talking
about their boats
as if
they were forlorned
mistresses.

Their candy shops
are marine and boat
stores, where they stop
to buy little
trinkets for their
loved one.

Men who know
each marina by
name, up and down
the coast line.

They even know
the secret ones
further up the bay
and their
associated
watering holes.

Places where they
can recount
with the liked minded,
their ocean adventures,

their lost marriages,
or that epic sea voyage
they’ve been diligently
planing, over
a pint of beer or two.

Men who know the history
behind grog. Who know the
dangers of a white squall.

Men who can look at the skies
and can tell if its going to rain,
who can tell you its going to be
smooth sailing.

Men who can read the stars
and navigate them like
Joshua Slocum and others
who have tamed the ocean’s
gates.

When you meet a real sailor
you’ll feel the love of the
Ocean in their salty eyes.

Altamont Pass

20130709-153959.jpg

On our road trip
we pass the
Altamont,

Straight up hill
the engine chugs
along.

This route leads
to the Bay
going Westward.

And the
Valley
going towards
the East.

It’s a landmark
that as a child
I still recall,

the giant
windmills
standing
oh so tall.

White markers
that harness the
wind;

some are
ferociously spinning
while
some stand
quietly
still.

They’re sandwiched
in between the
yellow ochre earth
of the rolling
California hills;

and the
infinite
cerulean blue
of the cloudless
Western skies.

When I spot them
I’m happy inside,

whether they’re
turning or not,

it makes no
difference to
me.

As they’re
like sentries;

that guard
my childhood
memories.

Sunlight On The Bay

20130504-154248.jpg

Daylight cock marks bright-
Sun rays brake forward towards the Bay
Like yesterday,
light gave the day-feeling.
Shimmering through fragrant eucalyptus trees,
lining the Royal Road.
Exquisite brightness chases the darkness back
saying, “its my turn to give life on the bay- its meaning.”