I will meet your flight at Madrid airport,
just like any other international airport,
best forgotten.
But on the morrow, when you are rested,
and rejuvenated with a glass of red, fruity Rioja,
we can visit thto see the masterpieces of Goya
And Velazquez,
while industrial smog hangs over the smouldering city.
It is May
so we will travel south and west to Jerez,
The home of fine sherry
And the horse fair.
Immaculately attired in grey habits,
Stern-faced senoritas astride burnished
High stepping horses, relax into decorous smiles
As they see our tourist cameras.
But as tourists we won`t be allowed into the finer resturants.
We won`t be suitably dressed to mingle with the aristocracy
Of Jerez during the horse fair.
East to Andalucian Malaga, the home of gipsys
and birthplace of Picasso.
Leaving the high-rise jungle
travel just an hour up into the white Moorish villages
I used to call home.
The old men still call me Paco.
I am honoured to be so remembered.
We will savour the rough local Muscatell.
Then Pepe`s goats used to awaken me with their
tinkling bells,
Now the noisy clamour of a jack-hammer
demolishing the last row of cottages
to erect the latest illegal high-rise
will be our morning call.
While in the town-hall
officials will be stuffing their brief-cases
to depart hurridly
once their tenure of office is over.
We are close to Granada
That ancient Moorish grandeur of the Alhambra Palace
with its fountained gardens
And elaborate, intricate carved decor.
Great tiled and collonaded chambers, with high vaulted roofs,
cool in summer heat.
When sunset fires the turreted walls
you will hear the first strains of a guitar
Across a velvet night, stringing out with winking stars.
The guitarist will strike a few tentative chords
While the Flamenco singer will concentrate,
his face wrought with anguish
as he suddenly bursts into a great volume of sound.
Unscripted, unwritted, just straight from the heart,
never to be repeated.
Souds born from far south desert oasis,
And the high Atlas mountains of Morocco.
If you want the tourist inspired Flamenco
watch those narrow-arsed, tight trousered, finger clicking men
stamping their Cuban heels in stacatto rhythm
while Carmen twirls, clacking her castanets
and showing a glimpse of prevocative calf.
Carmen, who peforms thrice nightly in between washing the dishes
in the cafe estaurant.
Sorry there`s no time for Seville, Cordoba or Barcelona,
Your flight leaves tomorrow.
Author notes
That`s true. A small coachload of us Europeans were not permitted entry to a Jerez restaurant for lunch. Not to lose business, the establishment served us all in a room on our own!
Spain is so busy trying to catch up to the 21st. century that it is danger of losing a lot of its finer features.
So much art is prostituted for the benefit of the tourist industry. Tourism itself a necessary evil. Over development has been a feature of the last 20 years, leading to concrete jungles and galloping property prices, and of course the rampant corruption that goes hand in hand with it.
A contest entry
- Take Me There Part IV: Spain (Any Time Period) 900 Points! by Everwind Rising.
900 points, ended August 26, 2007, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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thank you for sharing your considerable talent, dear poet! this poem is so very fine! shows work and dedication to your art.
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Perhaps you had an unfortunate visit to Spain. I seriously suggest you do it without using a package tour company. Madrid is a lovely city!
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The descriptions make me feel I was there, too.
Concrete jungles loose their romance of nature no matter where they spring, but one thinks of the slower pace that once lent its beauty to such places as Spain. Of course, there were the abject poor to be considered, too. One wonders what it would be like to see the art from more than a tourist's perspective.
What a shame is the demolition of the cottages, but that is the price of progress, we're told.
Perhaps this is the reason you choose Donegal?
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I really liked this piece. I felt as if I was given an insider's view by several of the details given. The images I found fascinating as they came at me in a flurry of activity. I like the way you brought out some of the loss in the face of progress yet left it to the reader to read the emotion into it all.
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A very well-worded and fascinating glimpse of the changing face of Spain. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this.
Bill
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A very interesting poem, in subject matter, ideas and use of words. I enjoyed it very much.
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Oh,what an interesting travel log of adventure you've woven in these provocative illuminations of Spain. Being privey to the knowledge of this author having lived there.Enriches the value of his words.This piece takes you there in it's descriptivness quite well.Excellent writing.
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