As much as I love words – especially my own – I’ve never had a fondness for poetry. Yup, total philistine. But I recently ran across a poem by Rupert Brooke while sorting through some old files about Hawaii that I did, and do, like and thought I’d share. When I originally discovered the poem I was deep in the middle of a love affair with the islands, and the island’s boys; the prose touched something deep within my soul. Now, it’s more a tug of nostalgia . . . pleasant memories . . . the words still resonate within.

And you get a twofer. The art is thanks to Douglas Simonson, an artist I discovered around the same time. His work is displayed on his website; click over to his blog for an interesting display of the process: model photo to painting or sketch. And some real hot island boys.

http://www.douglassimonson.com

Waikiki

Warm perfumes like a breath from vine and tree
Drift down the darkness. Plangent, hidden from eyes
Somewhere an ukulele thrills and cries
And stabs with pain the night’s brown savagery.
And dark scents whisper; and dim waves creep to me,
Gleam like a woman’s hair, stretch out, and rise;
And new stars burn into the ancient skies,
Over the murmurous soft Hawaiian sea.

And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again,
And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known,
An empty tale, of idleness and pain,
Of two that loved — or did not love — and one
Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly,
A long while since, and by some other sea.

 

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