Presenting Vazambam's Name Day Celebration Poetry Giveaway Contest!

It’s a time of gifts and as there is no Saint Nick over here in charge of distributing them (we have our own Saint Basil who does this job quite nicely on January 1^st) and since yours truly is named after him, I’ve decided to spread some cheer in the midst of all this dire talk of impending Hellenic bankruptcy. Here’s the deal (please don’t beware of Greeks bearing gifts)—I’m going to give away two autographed copies of my first book Sentences (only 300 copies were published) to the first two people who can answer the following question:

What was my first girlfriend’s name?

Hint (but not much of one): It’s not of Greek origin.

All entrants can enter only one name and they cannot enter more than once; if by the end of the contest (12.00 midnight December 31^st, Greek time) there are no winners (or only one), the names of the remaining participants will be put into a Mexican straw hat (idea courtesy of William Michaelian) and on the evening of January 1^st, 2012, the soberest guest at my name day party will be asked to draw the first two (or one) names out of the hat. A photograph commemorating the occasion will be taken and duly published on my blog together with the names of the lucky, soon-to-be well-heeled winners, as a signed copy of Sentences is now selling online at over $35 (just think of all the things you could buy for that very special person if it were 1950 and you were six years old).

Please send your guesses to vzambam3@otenet.gr together with your snail mail addresses—good luck (unless you’re psychic or have a pint-sized sphinx in your pocket, you’re going to need it)!

UPDATE: 12/23/11. Hey, guess what--I don't expect anyone to guess the right answer--all you have to do is send in any crazy name to enter. So let's send in those entries!

Haiku Wednesday

My thanks to the indefatigable Don Wentworth for publishing one of my favorites, together with a fine one by Roberta Beary. 

Offering

At last, the long-awaited cleansing downpour, 

Tomorrow, a promise of more—even now 

As I write this, I can see the ancient silver- 

Green trees with their branches extended. 

Crow's Foot

edge 

         of the meadow, the small 

tracks 

                there, 

a stream 

                beginning 

to branch. 


(Opening poem from Sentences, 1976)

Finally, A Clear-cut Definition

Beauty?  

I ain’t stumped but

Don’t tell this old logger

It’s in the eyes

Of the beholder—

I can’t see

No forest or no trees.

Drunk Again

What can a poor lush do 

When pouring out his heart 

To the wine-dark sea 

But hold—steady as she goes— 

His foul breath in. 

Stroke of Genius

When the myopic philosophy prof asked her

What she thought she was doing 

Wasting her time 

Doodling during a pop quiz, I bet 

He never thought she’d shoot back 

With a bull’s eye can’t you see 

I’m thinking.