POEM St. Helena Isle

An emerald set in bronze
I'm told
they call this Isle of St. Helena
the bizarre rocks along her coast
are daunting to the eye,
and well hidden is the green, green land
that makes its` viewers sigh.


The grass is so much greener
than the eye can comprehend,
so green, in fact so lush
that one, in retrospect,
must surely wonder, if
some artist stopped and painted it
with some gigantic brush.


And who painted all the birds I've seen ?
Fairy terns in snowy white
cardinals in carmine
and the cadmium canary,
who'll sing his joyful song
to all, so stop and listen
if you can tarry for a while.


What about the mynah bird
so busy all day long
chanting, chatting to his comrades
or stealing scraps of food
left in chip bags, or on tables
he`s my favorite
he`s a star.


The flowers I have seen here
wild ginger, pots of gold,
frangipani, bougainvillia, ladies petticoats and all,
are but a fraction
of the beauties I did see.
There is even one called Dogwood,
an endemic plant is he.


And the fruits that I have eaten
Paw-paw, mango,
Sweet-potato, yams and chau-chau too,
and the purple granadilla
that really is a treat,
I even had some toungies
from the prickly prickly-pear.


But though I went to Man and Horse
no horses did I see
Horse Pasture sad belies its` name
and it`s been said to me
that the only horse that still remains on Saint Helena Isle
is the old one down at Deadwood
a poor, forgotten, lonely soul.


The rugged face of Sandy Bay
did set my soul a'fire.
Burnished red and gold and violet
against the cool atlantic blue,
she's majestic,
she's magnificent,
too princely to be true.

Her crags
diffused by passing shadows
thrown by the warm caressing sun
and the subtly changing hues of light,
that mingle with the mind,
turn into giant living sculptures
of the Giacometti kind.


And the sunsets of the island
just take my breath away.
And the sky,  pollution-free and dark
so full of stars at night.
And the sea
so crystal-clear, so royal-blue
All that belongs to me.

Yes, I'm enslaved,
my heart is lost
to this Isle of St. Helena
spewn from the sea so long ago
by some colossal urge
within the earth,
within the womb of nature, and of life.

The fires of that genesis
burn in my spirit still
I am a proud and grateful child that I was born of it.
And now that I've returned to see
this land that nurtured me,
I say Thankyou God
for letting me be me.



linsi-art@bluewin.ch