Born in Montréal, Canada in the first half of the last century, R.A.Lucas began having poetry published in the early 1970s. His short stories and poetry have been published in Canada, England, the United States, India, Australia and Norway.
A too thin village stray
on its back
displays delicate ribs
rolls in powdered
sun-bleached dust
outside an almost empty
tapas bar.
I return to my notebook
of unfinished lines and
the vino blanco
too sweet for me
but loved by a fly
just inside the rim
of a thick, short glass.
The waiter adjusts his teeth
rushes from behind the bar
to chase the dog away.
Walking in Algeciras
Too young to carry a gun
a soldier in a loose brown
uniform
ignores the sun
whistles
some favourite song
watches
tanned legs as
townswomen march quickly
to the bullring.
I came up behind him
and his song faltered
quit then continued
weaker now
with less intention
some notes flat
and shallow
my smile unreturned
by a frightened
soldier
on another too hot
Spanish afternoon.
Before Taking the Ferry to Tangier
Facing south from the roof
above the square corner turret
of Castellar de la Frontera
I could feel Morocco’s warmth
feather touch my skin
heat the ancient stones the dust the day
I was sure I could smell the sand
the dry scent of long discarded fantasies
left as offerings against
a constant and always
crucifying sun
below me individual trees
an abandoned orchard
struggles to survive
once green leaves browning
on another too hot afternoon
while on the distant horizon
snow-capped Atlas mountains
suggested a less fierce planet
so I went back to my
troublesome poems
Between the words I kept
hearing music, guitar, her voice
Joni Mitchell singing
The wind is in
from Africa
I wanted to catch the ferry to Tangier
lose myself in the Medina souk
but I walked back down the hill
the road winding like a
too long unedited story
each step toward the coast and
so many unfinished pages
still waiting.
Poetry in this post: © Ralph Lucas
Published with the permission of Ralph Lucas