A hearty welcome to Kristine Ong Muslim, who comes to us from The Philippines. Besides holding a degree in chemical engineering, she has also published more than six hundred stories and poems in over four hundred magazines. More information here.
new old kid on the blog, with an occasional old or new poem written off the old writer's block
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Grassroots Movement
Though the slithering
Forked tongued snake
Neither hears nor speaks,
Aside from hissing at any
Clear and present danger,
If we keep our eyes
On the tall, swaying grass
Through which it moves
Effortlessly, it will tell us as much
About maneuvering left and right
As any cold-blooded,
Deaf-mute politician.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Three Languages, Two Triptychs, One Translator
Recently Linked: Joseph Mulligan (U.S. poet, narrator, translator and essayist) has published some English and Greek poetry of mine introduced and translated into Spanish by my good friend Mario Domínguez Parra. The original English and Greek versions are also included and can be read on Joseph’s very fine blog
The Smelting Process. Muchas gracias, ευχαριστώ, and thank you to them both.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Left and Right, Before and After, or The Americanization of Vazambam
Some of you may have noticed the old kid on the block blog header has been replaced with a new kid-–or at least a new picture of the old kid (or maybe that should be an old but newer picture of the old kid). Whatever the case may be, the difference between the two pictures is striking: Within the short—as in the length of my frame—time span of a little more than a year, yours truly was transformed from a wretched-looking, raggedy Greek village urchin into a clean-cut, wholesome-looking, small-town American first grader ready for his first-ever school picture. As evidence of having made the transition with as few scars as possible, a copy of the first-grade picture was mailed by my parents to relatives in the old country so that they too could see how quickly I had turned into a proper American.
NB: If you look carefully, you can still see the scar on my forehead left there by a stone wall that collapsed on me as I was trying to climb it before leaving for America; incidentally, that village wall disappeared many years ago but the scar it left is still visible.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
My, Don't We Look Tasty
Imagine a crow eyeing you
Over what used to be
The green, green grass of home.
Don’t look now but
Now you know why
There’s nothing green about
This old
Old bird.
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