Fa – the name of the Green Dragon

A Place for the Odd Musings of an Expat Bristolian

Stories in Rhyme No.31 – Wanderlust

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Stories in Rhyme No. 31 – Wanderlust
I had a nagging urge that told me I must write
And so, sitting at my keyboard I began to type.
At first the words came slowly Then gradually not at all
My mind it would not function, nothing to recall.
A thought then came to me, it was an awful shock
I had been stricken with this thing, they call it writer’s block.
This was not the first time, it had happened oft before
And so, I searched my memory for a quick and simply cure.
I began to think of old times, the days of distant past.
Days upon the high seas spent before the mast.
From Angola round the cape to a place called Zanzibar
With rum culls and Lascars and one, one-legged Tar
But now those days are done, no more do I quest
To view a new horizon from a place they call the nest
A garden plot is my place now, it’s where I ply my sport
Planting seeds I gathered up from many foreign ports
I have not seen every seed, there are many still unknown
But those taken and to my plot consigned were well and truly sown.
Did they grow to manhood or plant maturity?
Not always, but it was a wonder just to see
God’s miracle emerging from the soil
Green shoots searching sunshine, with just a modicum of toil.
Ampalaya, a bitter gourd has a taste to be acquired
A vegetable so good to eat, of which I’ve never tired.
And then Kamote, comes purple and it’s sweet
The original potato another tasty treat
With a glass of wine at hand, it’s good to reminisce
]and write down pleasant memories so the grand kids will not miss
Reading of adventure and so learn firsthand the truth
What grandpa was up to in the days of his youth.
And therein lies the use (perhaps) of stories told in rhyme
Many years from now will they stand the test of time
And become the stuff of legend or forgotten and then lost.
Or worse, consigned to boxes, (as I have done) to be buried in a loft.
What fun it is to find them, to blow off gathered dust
And relive forgotten moments and days of wanderlust.

Author: Cethru Cellophane

I have reached the regrettable realization that I may have squandered my life. I did a quick count recently and figured that I have visited about 66 countries, and lived for more than 3 years in 3 of them. During this time I completed 14 corporate moves (relocations) and have changed my address more than 23 times. I should have settled on a profession that would have kept me in one place with no packing and unpacking. When I think of the time I have spent bundling my life into and out of boxes. Ah well, it's all water under the bridge. But I am grateful for the experience. At the end of the day I will be able to say with a certain authority, "been there, done that". A note about this site’s Header Image The Header image for this site is of the Smith Avenue High Bridge. The bridge was built in 1889 and carries Minnesota State Highway 149 across its span of 2770 feet, 160 feet above the mighty Mississippi River. The picture was taken from the river looking to the north-east and downtown Saint Paul. The bridge is about 1040 miles from New Orleans. One of the reasons I like this view is that I come from a city which has a spectacular bridge. It’s the Clifton Suspension Bridge http://www.ikbrunel.org.uk/clifton-suspension-bridge which spans the Avon Gorge and the River Avon in Bristol, U.K. It’s about 1350 feet long and stands 245 feet above the river below. Sadly it has claimed the lives of more than 400 people who have committed suicide by jumping from the bridge. As a side note, not all attempts were successful. two small girls thrown off the bridge by their deranged father survived the fall when they were fished from the river by the crew of a passing pilot boat. The bridge was opened in 1864 and was designed by the 24 year old architect, Isambard Kingdom brunel. It took 35 years to complete.

2 thoughts on “Stories in Rhyme No.31 – Wanderlust

  1. I am walking beside you in this new land of memory making, ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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