A poem by Michael Dom

          A dinghy ride by starlight

There is an echo even now. Awakening

From haunted dreams, late in the night

A memory of a dinghy ride by starlight:

The noise of the motor reverberating

Off the coast, above the rushing waves,

Cold and damp from sea spray and rain:

Phosphorescent glittering streams in

Our passing wake arise from unknown

Depths as we skim their salty matrix:

Dark ragged hills like a rip in the fabric

Of a jet black sky and the ghostly white

Foam of the relentless Solomon Sea:

A shoreline strewn with the debris of

That unending war: A warning to steer

Clear off, but to keep a parallel course:

Speak not of crows for I have seen them

In a mist shrouded morning at Rabaraba

Where they held their nodding congress.

And Champion’s surprise at finding me

There upon his arrival was worth a

Hundred voyages into Anuki Country.

Michael Dom

Bubia Station, 04:31AM 21/01/2012

Of this poem Russell Soaba said:

Michael,

A good poem indeed. Deeply intriguing as the Anuki Country itself,
mysterious, yet ever close to the safety and comfort of the shoreline!

Qualities that good poems are always made of are to be found here.

Only a slight query, though. Last stanza. And Champion's surprise at
finding me... should Champion be singular or plural? If singular,
would suggest, "And a Champion's surprise..." If plural, then suggest
it read as "And Champions' surprise..." with the apostrophe coming
after the "s".

Thanks, Mike. I like the poem.

                                                                               

In response Michael said:

Thanks for that Russell. I'm glad I conveyed the sense of that experience. It was truly mysterious.

Champion Ando was the name of my traveling partner, whom I was supposed to meet at Alotau. When I arrived there around ten o' clock he had already left early in the morning. I took a bus from Masurina Lodge, went down to town asked the locals for a highway truck, got on and made my way around the coast to a dinghy place on the north coast (I can't recall the name, starts with 'N'). That's where my dinghy ride began.

Until that time I had never been to Milne Bay in my life. Champion had no idea where I was, and everyone else thought that I was still in Port Moresby.

You can imagine his surprise when he comes to shore at Rabaraba at six o' clock the next morning, to be greeted by myself, standing on the shore waving to him. He thought for sure I was a ghost (or bewitched). He had some difficulty speaking for a little bit, when I asked him what had taken him so long to get there. It will make a good short story some day.

Do let me know if you wish to critique the whole collection or if you will give an assessment based on my other works which you have read in the past.

Michael

                                                                       

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