A Poem Should Be (6)

Understood internationally 

Like a Chinese fortune 
Cookie that says 

It’s all Greek to me. 




NB: Hopefully, this poem should need no gloss, but as we're dealing with languages here--and very difficult ones at that--I'd just like to add that when a Greek comes up against something written or said that he/she does not understand, the phrase used is "It's all Chinese to me."

If It Grins, Bear It

Like a candle 
Lit gap 

Toothed, marrow-hollowed 
Pumpkin weaned of the mother 
Patch plotting dastardly deeds

Against its seed, 
Keep smiling. 

Never a Question of Black and White

“As you make your bed, so must you lie in it.” 
--Greek proverb 


Mist but snow clearly

Blanketed the world 
And we thought our thoughts clean 

White sheets covering what 
We mistakenly thought was right. 

Poets That Dance Revived

I want to thank Annie Wyndham for her latest blog entry; I’m grateful she took the time to not only say some nice things about my poetry but also to write some of her own in the process. Annie spent some time in Northern Greece quite a few years back and she retains an avid interest in anything Greek—especially the music—so it was doubly satisfying to see her include a rare (but nothing-to-rave-about) video of a not-so-successful “whirling-dervish-of-a-poet” tripping the not-so-light fantastic to the rhythms of a classic rembetiko song! My turn to say in the language that’s still close to her heart— “Ευχαριστώ, Αννούλα, για την αγάπη σου”. 

Wannabe Junction

cross 

(road leading to/ 
away from) 

crowded interior 

where out 
side be 
comes in 

(place to be)

Discriminating Tastes in DC

See the unsavory pol trying to hide 
His habit of pigging out on pheasant 
Under glass instead of tripe—still 
Under the circumstances, one has to agree 
One cannot be too conservative; you see 
The down-and-out still have this nose 
For bullshit that’s downright cruel 
And can smell when someone’s stuffing 
His craw on pâté de foie gras while serving 
The chawbacons back on the farm 
Liberal helpings of hogwash and gruel. 

Domestic Violence

chop


another 

dark 

wood 


pile 

a 

stack 


of 

smoke 

soon 

to 

be 


dis 

appearing 


up 

the 

home 


land’s 

char 

red 


chimneys.