I’ve never been to Sicily, and yet
it’s always felt a part of me. Who knows?
Another life, another alphabet?
Alongside Archimedes, jotting prose
in Agrigentum I, with each vignette,
imbibing wine, as bitter as regret,
harangued the hellene farmers, stoning crows.
That Greek me – did I tend (as now) to get
frustrated when my verse was ‘on the nose’,
all too transparently in Homer’s debt?
But Italy’s a credible coquette,
more winning in her ways than we suppose.
Like Rhapsody in Blue’s smooth clarinet,
she captures us. We victims, in love’s throes,
admire her steely claws, as black as jet.
Written October 11, 2022
Categories:
hellene, poetry,
Form: Quintain (Sicilian)
Dragged to the rafters, noose at the ready
There she stands the enchanted witch lady
Guilty of laughing and dancing and singing
Hanging for the crime of extended living
Tied at the wrist, cutting twine digging in
Shoulders back and breast open, ever the hostess
Serving and smiling she gives you her wine
Cellars empty now, its recession time
Bound to the stake and the firewood’s in place
Head held high, sparkling eyes of the sea
Reflecting warmth and indescribable light
The battle to conform deemed the wrong fight
Her fate decided by politicians
While she collects wild greens and cleans fishes
The world likes to see her all broken and done
She sips her coffee and soaks up the sun
Categories:
hellene, passion, people, places, uplifting,
Form: Free verse
A white city here lies –
a trace of centuries gone.
An old man Heraclitus
awoke freely at dawn.
At the bank of the sea
was a heavenly drop.
In the valley at hills
became ripened its crop.
Great sons of Artemis –
so her wrath to go down –
offered gifts to their miss –
a bleeding girl.
King of all – Alexander
built around a great wall.
Trajan fountain over there
made water fall.
To the Brothel itself,
from the Heracles Gate,
marched a Hellene himself
not afraid of gods` hate.
From far regions away,
from other lots,
brought St. John a God’s word
in the temple of gods.
Marble white shining on,
carcass, pieces and bits.
There is quite Odeon –
its descendants fame is.
Categories:
hellene, history
Form: Rhyme