Long Chekhov Poems

It isn’t the voice of Aristotle, Plato, Shakespeare or Anton Chekhov riding down red square. It isn’t the voice of Adolf Hitler rumbling underground or Dwight D. Eisenhower building construction in the town.

It is not...

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I am not the famous one. But my pain was equal to his.
He became Chekhov. I became Alfie.
The meanness of the streets that spawned us made him a literary oak, while I became the hollow...

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Prince in nawab's costumes
Shouted in the dark Proscenium,
-Who's there, bequeath thousand gold coins
among the poorest citizen of my domain
Did anyone find those words?
breath-Stop flare, somebody sneeze somewhere
a cat under any seat in this empty auditorium
couple...

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Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other" 
Anton Chekhov

After a hectic stressful day
Some time for ourselves every day
Doing...

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They chew gums in compacted face,
Cheek-bones lining made-up skin;
They belong to the golden race,
Of foaming coke and shriveled gin.

They stare at you like you were a slave,
All through your seven lives;
They do know how to...

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"Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other"
 ~ Anton Chekhov

She brightens the skies with her twinkling eyes
As they...

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"Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other"

Anton Chekhov

A doctor, a poet and a singer,
he was all three talents...

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"If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired." -- Anton Chekhov


Chekhov declared that it's clearly imperative
That a gun given billing must...

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"Medicine is my lawful wife, and literature is my mistress. When I get fed up with one, I spend the night with the other"
Anton Chekhov

~~~~~~~~~

Medicine, an in-pouring
Literature, poetry, our outpouring 
In tandem setting into motion, vibration
Epitomising...

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Don’t tell me the moon is shining;
show me the glint of light on broken glass.

Anton Chekhov

the thunderclap
   of breaking pane,
  frightening.
splintered shards -
     remains
of jagged lightning.
those tears I...

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