Algarvia

A Poem by Neville

My recent visit to the Algarve prompted by an invitation to present at a conference was the first time I had been back there for more years than I care to remember and it brought back so many memories

Algarvia

It was somewhere between

Villa Paradaria

and the Taberna Tres Dukes

that I somehow

lost count of the number

of stockings

and sun-bleached torn ribbon

all strung out in rows

both above and across the old

narrow streets

that which make up

The Fisherman’s quarter

just off Ferragudo ..

Yes there, where the sidewalks

are still liberally strewn

with discarded oyster shells,

pieces of roughly hewn cork

and fishing nets drying

against the sides of these small

upturned

and seemingly resting,

blue and white sailboats

the locals here, are all known for ..

And, where in those

moments occasionally lost when

nothing else matters

between my strong black coffee

and medronho shots ..

I have, now and then, been known

to worry and wonder ..

Do the resident ghosts here each

still cast their shadows all be it

now ever so lightly ..

Because I swear, I caught sight of

her earlier ..

In a roadside café

with a Portuguese sailor

where they were picking over

the bones of grilled fresh sardinhas

and sipping green wine

from an old earthenware cup,

which the locals all call Vinho Verde ..

So yes, my dear friend,

it is shamefully true, I must now

confess, it was indeed there

where I last mouthed her name ..

© 2022 Neville

My Review

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Featured Review

Chris Shaw

Feeling and sensing the ambience of this place and the fisherman's quarter, revisited after many years. So you saw a ghost of a former lover and I'm not sure that she was a good thing to see.

It is shamefully true, I must
now confess

I am left pondering here and wondering what happened. I am not getting good vibes about this romance.

An intriguing write Neville. Loved the mystery.

Chris