Cruise Diary

Cruise Diary

   By Teak Kilmer

 

This is the first poem I ever wrote (Nov. 1996) - beyond greeting cards.  A friend had given me “Writing Down the Bones” years earlier. On this Royal Caribbean cruise, I started reading it; began a poetic diary; read this part of same at the amateur competition; was stunned at the degree of positive audience response and sold fourteen copies @ $15.  The first person offered me $100 for a copy: I told him that was too much as I would offer it for less to others.  He stuffed $50 into my shirt pocket and said that he would not pay me any less.  He then offered to support my wife and me on his dude ranch, so that I could focus just on poetry writing.  My wife didn’t want to leave Minnesota because her family is here which I supported, but I sure missed a chance.

 

 

Of snorkeling I’ll begin this cruising journalese

with fish in coats of many colors and personalities

floating in the water to the rhythm of the earth

as my soul is gently nurtured into moments of rebirth:

the ultimate massage, a reminder of the womb

with visions psychedelic ‘gainst corals bright as noon

 

Neither Solomon nor models are arrayed like some of these

Don’t you wish your life more natural? this palate seems to tease

 

If my wife were not now prodding me to partake of midday fare

hunger wouldn’t have thought of me, but today we are a pair;

while standing in discussion about heading back that way

comes leaping out the water a great Spotted Eagle Ray!

thus the pausing’s providential, so we let lunch have her way

yet my yearning for our origins is the greater hunger of this day

 

Then winds do churn the currents grand till all that’s seen is cloud of sand;

Rains explode and the dash is set.  Why are we running?  We’re already wet!

 

But to the tender we go ... to ship to return …

brave folks in the ocean but small drops cause concern

hundreds below decks but not one on the ledge.

We’re crammed but we’re laughing at those on the edge

for the waves, they are drenching and calling by name

those in the “best” seats; as the ocean takes aim.

while preparing for napping by reading a book        

The ship’s hobby horsing, so I go out to look

but Cuba with its lights on first snares my attention

and soon I recall the storm’s my intention

so I move around to port side ‘tween midships and the bow

till I am directly over the main event of here and now

 

The rise of the ship meets the fall of the prow

The kersplash that results is proof of the row

but a lovers’ quarrel is what I would call it …

mother nature would worsen if the ship it would maul it.

 

We’re safe though beleaguered;  my wife’s stomach attests

Dramamine  from our steward  will give it a rest

My duty is clear ─ both dinners are mine

JoAnne keeps me company but only I dine

so tonight I will miss the midnight buffet                                                                                                     rather back to the cabin; with words I will play

 

Next morning ─  I   to the test-tube-shower go

You just soap the walls;   it’s easier, you know

You spin around twice and, voila,   you are done

but do not bend over or your self image is scum:

First your buns then your brains will crash into the wall

Next your knees  are colliding  as you finish your fall

You’re scrunched in a squat you may never get out of

and you pray for escape Houdini’d be proud of