Welcome to this week’s homage to the Conch Republic. The world didn’t come to an end, but this poem is complete. Feel free to check out Key West Couplets–Part One or Key West Couplets–Part Two if you missed them. Enjoy!
Key West is tanning at Smathers, Higgins, Fort Zack, and South Beach,
Snapping photos of butterflies and exotic birds out of reach,
Exploring Truman’s Little White House and tall banyon trees,
Dreaming of pirates at Mel Fisher Museum, another treasure of the keys.
Key West is mopeds, skateboards, tour trolleys, and Conch Cruisers,
Paddleboards, Sunset Key Ferry, pink taxis, and scooters.
Cruise ships, motorboats, houseboats, and sea planes buzzing by,
Luxury yachts and masted boats with their sails flying high.
Welcome to this week’s Margarita Moment, the second of a three-part homage to the Conch Republic–Key West. Feel free to check out Key West Couplets – Part One if you missed it.
Key West is Hogaritas, Ultimate Margaritas, Corona with limes,
Rum punch, Flying Monkeys’ frozen concoctions, our favorite red wines.
Happy Hour that begins each day ’round about noon,
Laidback island music, with a work-to-live motto and a steel drum tune.
Key West is James Audubon, Tennessee Williams, and Chesney,
Jimmy Buffett, Mel Fisher, McGillis, and Winfrey.
Cigars rolled by Cubans and beaches made from soft Bahamian sand,
Home of the Navy, Coast Guard, and factories where turtles were once canned.
Key West is upper, mid, and lower Duval,
Art boutiques, souvenir shops, and occasional vendor stall,
Piano bars, sports bars, and others with history or flare,
All ending at a cobblestone street that leads to a boardwalk and Mallory Square.
Key West is tanning at Smathers, Higgins, Fort Zack, and South Beach,
Snapping photos of butterflies, exploring the world of banyon trees, and birds out of reach…
Until next Monday, when we finish our poetic tour of Key West, here’s a song by one of my favorite American Idol artists, Phil Phillips, with his beautiful homage to someone special. Wherever you may be, may it be the place you make your home.
April is one of my favorite months. Spring is in full bloom, Long Island days seem slightly sunnier…and it’s poetry month. To put you in the poem frame of mind, here’s a haiku I wrote, just for you.
Poetry
Sensory snapshot in words
Lines, rhymes, alliteration, stanzas
Rhythm rolling off my tongue
When I’m in the mood for a little poetry pick-me-up but don’t have the energy left to write my own, I surf on poetry websites. The next poem is courtesy of www.OnlyPoems.com.:
Tropical Island
Palm trees sway
To the beat of the drums
As my plane lands
My Caribbean escape awaits
I dip my feet
Into the refreshing warm water
The ocean sweeps me away
To my personal paradise
Flashes of color
Shimmering scales
Crystal blue water
A blissful sight
The burning red sun
Battles the soft ocean breeze
My toes dig deeper into the sand
I don’t want to leave
The reef is a playground
To all curious creatures
And the seaweed rocks back and forth
To the rhythm of the water
But sunset comes
In shades of orange, yellow, and pink
As it settles to rest
Sinking beneath the ocean waves
by Peyton Alexis
Do you like poetry? Why or why not? If you like poetry, do you have any favorite poets or related websites you’d recommend?
P.S. – If you’re not into poetry, no worries. Next week’s post will be written in prose. 🙂
Twenty-four years ago today, I married my true love and best friend. But our love story began long before April 9, 1988.
At fifteen, I was tall, lanky, studious, and shy compared to most girls my age, yet eager to fit in despite lacking social graces. I survived adolescent crushes and ventured into dating. None of those boys, however, made me swoon like the heroes in my favorite novels. Night after night, I’d gaze into the starry darkness from my bedroom window, dreaming of the perfect romance.
The Michael Buble song, I Just Haven’t Met You Yet, reminds me of that yearning optimism I had as a teen.
I met my future husband autumn of ’83. He was a very confident, handsome guy with a great sense of humor, a potent combination as far as I was concerned. We hung in the same circles and kept bumping into each other, although I focused on my studies and dating guys I felt were more in my league. My future husband and I had a playful, friendly relationship, but it didn’t go any further than that.
Until months later, he stole a kiss. I began to suspect he was the one, but I didn’t want to believe it. At that point I had a love interest back home and figured he did too.
Sophomore year of college, he’d walk me home Saturday nights whenever my roommate wasn’t available. I began to share my accomplishments and sorrows with him. He offered emotional support after my breakup with a boy back home. We talked about our childhoods, our aspirations, our religious beliefs, just about everything. We’d become best friends.
Then he ruined everything by asking me out on a date. I had to refuse. What if things didn’t work out? Luckily for our love story, he wasn’t easily dissuaded. He brought me flowers. He asked me to a movie. He courted me.
And we lived happily ever after.
Well, not so fast. Our road to marriage was a bumpy one at times, both of us having grown into strong-minded, focused young adults, intent on making our way in the world while trying to figure out how to fit our lives together. The 2005 movie A Lot Like Love, starring Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet, reminds me a bit of our real-life romance:
As we’ve wound our ways through the years,
we’ve lived our marriage vows,
loving each other
for better for worse,
in good times and in bad,
through sickness and health.
Twenty seven years after our first date, we’re still best friends, and we’re still crazy in love with each other. Happy anniversary, sweetheart.