Santorini Forms VII

Santorini Forms VII

the reason that I am alive
the reason that I am alive
for the tanned leg
of a blonde woman
propped against the wall
beneath the round sun
for the billowing sails
of a sleek schooner
at the mouth of the harbor
the iced coffee sipped through a straw
for the caress of sand
gazing at the watery deeps
turning so blue
descending into the deeps
with the fish
the tranquil fish
they calm the bottom of the ocean
fly above the seaweed hair
like slow birds
like blue birds
the reason that I am alive
because it is beautiful

the reason that I am alive by Boris Vian


Writer In The Sun by Donovan

The days of wine and roses are distant days for me.
I dream of the last and the next affair and of girls I’ll never see.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I’m blue,
The retired writer in the sun.
Tonight I trod in the starlight, I excused myself with a grin.
I ponder the moon in a silver spoon and the little one ‘live within.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun.
The magazine girl poses on my glossy paper aeroplane
Too many years I spent in the City playing with Mr. Loss and Gain.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I’m blue,
The retired writer in the sun.
I bathe in the sun of the morning, lemon circles swim in the tea
Fishing for time with a wishing line and throwing it back in the sea.
And here I sit, the retired writer in the sun,
The retired writer in the sun and I’m blue,
The retired writer in the sun

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