Blighted Silent Majority

The blasted 

 

Limbs of our fifty-year-old 

Judas tree give ample 

Silent testimony that 

Perhaps we have not 

Said enough of what continues 

 

To ail us, though each Spring, 

From a withered flaking 

Trunk, keep shooting 

Violent bursts of regenerating, 

Violet-red blood that speaks 

 

Volumes. 

 

 

 

Key To Her Heart

In your hands, 

Heartless one, where 

 

She placed it last, 

Will be the last place 

 

You look. 

 

 

 

 

Almost Niksen* In The Boondocks Of The Southern Peloponnese

--for Ans and Peter, outstanding Dutch experts

in the field of observing Mother Nature 

 

I’m not counting but I suppose 

There are many other more 

Fruitful things to do 

 

With one’s precious 

Time than to sit 

In a director’s 

 

Chair facing the warm 

Winter sun, slowly peeling 

And then eating 

 

One of the too numerous 

To count oranges freshly 

Picked from the garden 

 

Of the Milk and Honey House, 

Then spitting out 

The seeds one-by-one, 

 

Watching them bounce 

Off the stone 

Patio till they come 

 

To rest in the grass 

Under the green 

Limbs of a benevolent, 

 

Bountiful Mother. 

 

 

 

* https://time.com/5622094/what-is-niksen/

 

Haiku: Singular Sense Of Solitude

You want to impart— 

Dispense with it with the wind

 

Parting lonesome pines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bully For Us, Old Chap!

 

Little man, as 

It looks like 

 

You have so little 

To say, don’t you dare

 

Take up all my precious 

Time saying it— 

 

I’m next in line, 

By the way. 

 

 

 

End Of The Line, Mister

 

And for your own good, stop 

All that hollering—you’ll know 

 

When the poem can’t take any more 

Of your meddling when it breaks 

 

You down for good. 

 

 

 

Synesthetic Passion

Dearest Valentines, 

 

Imagine it all 

Going up in smoke, 

 

Could you still smell 

The burning 

 

Ecstasy of vocables 

Crying out? 

 

 

 

Aubade: Old Timers' Rustic Love Song

Between sheets soft 

And warm 

 

Woolen blankets 

In the dead of winter, 

 

And below 

Zero temperatures, 

 

To slowly come alive 

Before the light comforting morning 

 

Rustling of sheep bells while 

Waiting for the woman you love 

 

Nuzzled against you

To wake and join you, 

 

Coupled in awe before all 

That has come about 

 

Between the two of you— 

And still is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Memorium: Passing Hallmark Card Mandate

"Old soldiers never die, they simply fade away"

 

Lest we forget— 

For as long as we can 

 

Live and breathe, 

Let the death of each 

 

Cherished friend breed 

A remembrance 

 

That never dies. 

 

 

 

Fledgling Pegasus, Sans Horse Sense

 

Foolish Houyhnhnm foal, 

Your approach to poesy is nothing 

But a parody of it, full of cantering 

Pitfalls and oh so maddening 

To the heightened soul— 

 

Why ruffle the feathers 

Of such simple-minded 

Yahoos like us who have trouble 

Enough as it is, getting off

The ground, yet yearning to

 

Soar. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Him Who First Floated The Idea Of Negative Capability

 

When you think 

You can’t 

 

Swim 

 

Enough to write 

Your name 

 

In water. 

 

 

 

 

 

Coign Of Vantage In The Air

Call it a quirk 

Of fate if you will, 

 

But it’s not 

 

A coincidence 

The shiny coin you keep 

 

Flipping always ends up 

On its edge. 

 

 

 

 

On The Brink: Vertigo As Poetic Metaphor

 

Metaphorically speaking, he 

Mistakenly looks to be 

Three sheets to the wind— 

Apparently a victim of his own 

Bluff but by all appearances 

Only momentarily 

 

Carried away by his dizzying 

Success, this rock-solid 

Astronomically gifted 

Over-the-moon poet

Might soon be seen tottering 

On the tips of his toes 

Like a drunk danseur, 

Before flying head-over- 

Heels οver the edge 

 

Of the nearest sobering, 

Down-to-earth cliff. 

 

 

 

Fifteen Poems

Mark Young, the editor of the very fine Australian poetry magazine Otoliths was kind enough to include 15 of my poems in the latest issue of the magazine, for which I thank him. Here is the link to the poems and while you're there, please copy/paste the link and take the time to read the rest of the contributions to the issue. 

 https://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2023/01/vassilis-zambaras.html