Date: 5th of August, 2025
Location: Madeira, Portugal
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Poem:
I desperately tried to write poetically,
Something, anything.
Observing my words,
It was apparent poetry had left me
With ease,
And no need for it to be extracted achingly.
I listened to the echoes of the ocean in rockwalls,
Mumbling two words of Portuguese to
A leathered man on cobbled stone
Surrounded by zucchini flowers
And fresh figs, whitened with stretch marks.
All day I wished for the sun to stay longer
And in those wishes
I found poetry.
It didn’t need to be written,
Simply it was lived.
