Bohemian Bahamian
I Am a Bohemian Bahamian
Upon these islands kissed by endless blue,
Where cobalt meets the bright and emerald hue,
I trace the footsteps of a wilder dream,
Where nothing is as rigid as it seems.
I am a wanderer of the spirit's shore,
A soul unbound, forever asking more,
A child of salt and sun, of truth and sand—
I am a Bohemian Bahamian.
My roots run deep in rich coppice and pine,
Where ancient rhythms pulse within the vine,
Where bush tea brews a quiet, healing grace,
And time forgets its hurried, frantic pace.
I wear no uniform of corporate gray;
My spirit shifts with what the trade winds say.
I take the barefoot path, the untried road,
And cast aside the heavy, modern load.
Beneath the shade of poinciana trees,
I catch the whispers of the roaming breeze.
A canvas waits upon the coral stone,
To paint the vibrant truths I’ve come to own.
I mix the turquoise of the shallow bank
With sun-bleached driftwood pulled from where it sank,
And stroke by stroke, with wild and daring hand,
I map the hidden kingdom of this land.
The city streets may prize their structured lines,
Their polished marble and their neon signs,
But give me Nassau’s alleyways of old,
Where rusted roofs reflect the morning gold,
Where laughter echoes down the market square,
And sweet pine-scented warmth fills up the air.
We dance to Goombay’s unapologetic beat,
With syncopated drums beneath our feet.
I am a seeker of the hidden cove,
Where seagrapes canopy the secret grove.
I seek no title and I crave no crown,
Nor care what standards fashion sets in town.
My wealth is measured not in stocks and bonds,
But in the freedom of the woodland fronds,
The opal flash of parrotfish at play,
The sun’s slow sinking in a crimson bay.
With every shell that whispers of the deep,
I keep the secrets that the waters keep.
The conch-shell horn announces day is done,
And bids farewell to yet another sun.
I wrap my spirit in the island night,
Bathed in a galaxy of silver light,
Where stars are closer and the dark is grand—
I am a Bohemian Bahamian.
So let the world build empires in the haze,
And rush through automated, clockwork days.
I’ll stay right here where gentle currents roll,
A free-spirited harbor for the soul.
Unbound by dogma, unaligned with creed,
I follow only what my heart decreed:
A native of ocean, art, and sand—
A true Bohemian Bahamian.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
