Nostalgia #poetry #poem

I’m nostalgic for Catalunya:
iron-red earth and the Serrat 
and Els Cingles de Berti,
Tagament,
Vic, Tarragona,
Barcelona, always and
the Costa Brava or Costa Daurada:
of course I’m nostalgic for
Catalunya. 

I’m nostalgic for the South
of Spain 
where warm Saharan winds blow
and the mountains are
like dragon-backs:
where life is Andaluz-ly led
among the orange groves
the scent of my nostalgia. 

I’m nostalgic for London in the rain
so different to the South of Spain:
Coram’s Fields where children’s 
shouts of joy remember 
foundlings. The South Bank,
Greenwich and the Old East End
where the chain-clad flower seller cries
true London.

I’m nostalgic for the Lake District
where beauty can almost be held
in the palm of your hand:
this is your playground 
where earth unfolds to heaven
Romanticism’s cradle
poets’ nursery.

I’m nostalgic for all of these places
but here I write 
from the wild, ravenous lushness of
May in Slovenia. And so I realise
wherever I may find myself
I’ll always find
nostalgia and a life
forever steeped
and walked in beauty.

 © Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved

Sharing with earthweal

Posting for the 69th Open Link Weekend. I’ve been having a lot of attacks of nostalgia recently. And I realised it’s only possible to have nostalgia for the places you leave behind. If I ever leave Slovenia, I will no doubt be nostalgic for my time here.

This poem was inspired by the writings of Sanaa Rizvi, whose poetry collection Moon Bath I read and reviewed this week. I have not tried to match her style but rather capture something of the wistful mood of her writing.