And there is poetry. Poetry is putting words in an emotionally mobilized way to better express our secret deep feelings, fantasies, and life that usually we do not dare to or is nor practical to express in every day life. There are some rules to follow. Such as a sonnet 4 lines, 4 lines, etc.…
There is a secret hunger, nostalgia in almost all westerners to visit Greece. A wish to have at least a once in a lifetime pilgrimage, a Haj. Perhaps is in our education, in the roots of our beliefs, traditions, an in our language-dotted with Greek words- which fire our imagination and shape our early fantasies,…
In an unmasterable world, Searching for certainty, Doubts hunt the platoons of rehearsals. In the thought, Rehearsals chase the doubts in a circle, Servant of algorithms, Life is reduced, The scheduling of rituals, exact sequencings; Illusions of master; Routines of bees, Humanity departs, The center holds with iron bars of ceremonies, Symbolic caricatures of order,…
It has happened so long ago, its remembrance ought not have claim to it. Yet, the moment still visits me often in times of solitude or at night. Its memory still has an unaltered freshness and immediacy and gladness as then of years back. I was still in my town back then in the…
I have become the fancied father of hundreds of men, And for a fee, I have offered certainty, To the bewildered, in a world of more-or less ness and ambiguity, More often; I was set as the point man, For half-forgotten, hurts and the focus of fantasies half-realized. I was showered with reawakened rancors and…
He jumped the fences of our Tribe’s heart from the start. and there he stayed the years. -A faithful chronicler of our happenings and unfolding- His white body a moving shimmering Igloo. in the northern light. Yesterday, as the allotment for his kind came up, He died in his sleep, dreaming of the Tundra. Now his…
Oh why, why, why I can’t sleep at night? I can’t stop thinking how you brought the laughter and then the cry Oh is this love? the steering inside? the long hours at night? the moments of the kiss! The longing thirst for the next sight? I felt your love was perfect so were you…
Did I request, thee Maker, from my clay To mold Me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me…? three lines from Milton ‘s “Paradise Lost” bellow what he left out, Did, thee Maker, bestow Reason upon the clay? Demanding Me, unreasoning faithful slave? Demanding glory, As being Maker does not satisfy only?
At night I stare at the abyss of the sky: The myriads of the quivering stars, like multicolored opals, are Beckoning me. With them, I stare at the Eternity. All So far away, the fingers of my imagination cannot reach. For millions their image: echoes of themselves, Eons after their Valhallas. The enormity of my…
A man as he is playing a violin, An Oriole chirping, A Lassie as she is dancing; The harmony of the world! A woman as she is giving birth, A doe as she is running, The almond tree as it is blooming in January; The strength! Two young ones as they are making love, A…
Chroniclers of the Soul 