Res's Writing and Poetry: July 2017

Sunday, 23 July 2017

"My Memories Sing of Matala"

Sitting on a Matala beach in the velvet Cretan night

Smelling the dust of Africa if the wind came in just right.

Every day and every night those breakers pounded slow

Upon the ancient pavements that are sunken down below.

And hearing the music the Mermaid café played at night
And breakers reflecting back the dance floor’s festive lights.

To my right the sandstone cliff dotted with ancient caves

Lit bright by lamps and candles above those Old Aegean waves.

Oh how I wish some angel would come and take my hand

And lead me back through life’s rough track, to that magic Lotus Land

The Tavernas like a necklace round the neck of the bay
Where craggy Cretan shepherds came from the hills to play.
Hard and grizzled mountain men who’d stopped the Nazi steel
With a pretty student on each knee as he drank and shared his meal.

And on the Mermaid dance floor we danced the latest dance
Bought in by hitch- hiking hippies from London, Paris, France.
We had guys who dodged the draft that saved them from Vietnam
And deserters from the forces who’d be always on the lam!

Oh how I wish some angel would come and take my hand
And lead me back through life’s rough track, to that magic Lotus Land

We had tired British soldiers getting over the Borneo War
And pretty college students and some who broke the law.
We had misfits and the In-crowd and those who wanted love
Philosophers saints and poets and we fitted - hand in glove.

The daily bus from Iráklion came in about half past three
We’d go and meet new faces and sit ‘em down to tea.
We’d mostly gather early, cross the beach in the morning cool
Yogurt and strong Greek coffee, too hot after that as a rule.

Oh how I wish some angel would come and take my hand
And lead me back through life’s rough track, to that magic Lotus Land

Then as darkness fell upon us we’d emerge from our shady dens
And we’d eat and drink and love and laugh until the sun came up again!
It was the land of the Lotus Eaters and I stayed six months or more
But if I hadn’t left just when I did, I’d have been there for evermore!

My wounds were healing nicely, I’d found my smile again
So I hitch hiked back to London mostly in the rain!
And Saturdays on Portobello I’d scan the crowds to see
A friend I’d drunk Retsina with down by the Agean Sea.

Oh how I wish some angel would come and take my hand
And lead me back through life’s rough track, to that magic Lotus Land

Photo by kind permission of

Jebulon – Wikimedia Commons