Anchors Aweigh: A poem for Portugal
Lisbon, Portugal was a very interesting city. The seafood was extremely fresh, and the sangria was even better. We headed out with no direction in mind, and wandered the streets. We stopped at a beautiful church and then an open-air market. From the market we noticed a castle up on the hill, and started in that direction. After a long hike, we finally made it. The spectacular view of the ocean was worth the hike alone. We stopped on the way back to try the famous custard filled pasty, and espresso, which was called “una bica.” To end the night, we went to a club, Urban Beach, and danced ‘til dawn. Although we only had one night, it was a great night.
Below is a poem I wrote with my friend about Portugal.
Our ship pulls out of Lisbon Bay, through crimson steepled skies,
And as I stand, I wave and sway, and say my last goodbyes.
We wandered through the cobbled streets, between the pastel walls,
To the history-steeped Pantheon, with patterned hallowed halls.
From golden dome we gazed abroad, across the red roofed sea,
To dream of fleets that changed the world, and shaped our history.
We braved the groaning, twisting tram, through blue-tiled, sunlit streets,
The locals smiled through open sills, below their windswept sheets.
The fresh-caught seafood stole my soul, with Sangria, rich and fun,
Una bica and Belém pastry please, to melt upon my tongue.
Enriched, but now upset to leave, a pain I cannot tell.
I look with hope to Spanish berth, a bitter sweet farewell.