Because of the holiday the Lourve was closed.
Mary was impressed with the French pastry
that tasted just as good as it looked.
Horrible coffee, good chocolate & delicious thick soups.
Beautiful clothes with prohibitive prices.
We boarded the Albert Express for Switzerland
with a bottle of wine and a big bag of pastries.
Take me back to Paris, I can’t stand the fresh air and healthy people of Switzerland
Arrived in Lucerne with time to enjoy the fountains in all the squares —
they were boarded up a couple days later.
Delicious cheese fondue, murals painted on the old houses,
a quaint town for William Tell, with his bow and barefooted boy.
A Train from The Alps to Venice.
Train to Florence, Hotel Majestic,
whole city is an art Gallery.
Michelangelo square, mosaic jewelry, leather goods.
Flores Hotel in Rome, Vatican, Parthenon.
St. Paul without the walls, St. Peters in chains,
Nightclub tour of the city, Old Appian way,
Capuchin Church with all the bones...
Let me tell you of a journey- from The Parthenon to Paris
in the springtime - of which real year, no one knew
Riding on an ostrich guided by a gilded leather bridle
traveling back roads dressed in mysterious disguises
using signals only ostrich riders do.
The endurance of the ostrich was as equally surprising as
the smoothness of its gallop on the road.
It needed very little in the way of daily edibles
while the softness of its feathers made a very comfy saddle.
Now an ostrich made an eerie sight in swaying fields of daffodils.
Its three-pronged feet so admirable for climbing alpine hills.
It handled every mountain as well as any Hannibal
with eyes adept to guide a sleepy rider while he slept.
The gallop into Paris was singularly memorable –
No wildly cheering crowds of proud Parisians-no-one knew-
No showers of cherry blossoms sprinkled from the Eiffel Tower
in praise or celebration of this epic ostrich rider.
What evidence is there, then? What memory endures
Perhaps a photograph or witness tells the tale
If the novelty is forgotten and the mists of time have passed
Could fields of daffodils remember or perhaps the Cherry blossoms?
as i began to understand Virginia Woolf
her voice from a room of her own
i realized i was upon a mountain
she had exposed the molehill it was
the dirt soon revealed a tunnel
entering it opened a new horizon
where i finally fully grasped the world
surrounding Jane Austen
in that moment the mist upon the horizon
disappeared and i could finally grasp
her words between the lines
denied a seat upon the Parthenon
forbidden attending The School of Athens
she displays the truth about her gender
that soft restraint we find in mother
its wisdom resplendent
in that hardened fist of reality
covered in a glove of soft lamb
we forgive ignorance
or become yet another in the mirror
who denies the freedom the world
breathes in every breath
the child's first cry
should echo, i am born free
deserving a room of my own
all warrant the miracle life is
nascent in the gratitude within
OKC 6/22
Athenians were losing to the Persians led by Xerxes one.
but Athena came along, and spoiled that militant’s fun.
she helped the Greeks defeat them, and they ran away.
goddess of wisdom, justice, and war simply does not play.
she enhanced the wisdom, skill and courage of every soldier.
her practical knowledge and fairness is unselfish and pure.
born from Zeus’s head, with her owl power animal at her side.
enthuses Athenians who built Parthenon with her statue inside.
You can travel to the pyramids.
Or Tutankhamen’s tomb.
Gaze upon the Parthenon.
In Athens, I presume.
Eat your lunch on Jungfraujoch.
Or Paris, for a start.
But nothing stirs the senses
Like journeys of the heart.
Mediterranean Salad
As I gaze upon the picture hanging on the wall
of the Parthenon on Mount Olympus of long ago,
where history was made and mythology took root
(and phalanxes of hoplites conquered the known world)
while the gods ruled from the mountaintop,
and bellowed obscenities from their mouths
and threw down lightning bolts upon the shepherds
and their flocks, non-stop, and I thought,
it must have been a relief to feel the breeze off the sea
and to sit down and eat in peace
a Mediterranean salad with succulent sardines.
Krishna has an ink effect in our greater supplication, these days!
How come?
From when?
For quite a few days! Since I returned from Bangladesh.
It seems quite a hazard!
Are you in truce with your landlady?
That is another epic ! An enormous one !
Attuned harmony, cryptocurrency in scripted Java, and Architectural Parthenon, ding dong, in ping pong
And I simply pondered
Which trash can served the son
In serving chores for "Tapati" , the grandiose mentor?
O, Fix yourself, just look at you!
You are just an advertised face of Sandalina Sandal soap , these days!
Have you ever washed your holy month of Sha'ban,
of days bygone?
Or a pure "Miswak?"
How far are you? In your own mirror?
Till the recorded reels are disposed,
to the fullest extent!
An unknown rural tune is surmising in only fluke news
A floating trochaic, in enormous hypes!
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tapati
2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sha%27ban
3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miswak
It is as warm as a flame
here in Tennessee embark
we listened to the Titans game
on a trip to Centennial Park
We saw quite a few belay stance
such as M&M people
painted on haystacks
vandalism or legal
We beheld some geese
and also duck
people walking dogs on their leash
and squirrels running amuck
There's a replica of the Parthenon
there also
a giant statue of Athena Babylon
wall so
Then we stopped at the pet store
and got our cats some treats
after that we went home indoor
twas our daily feats
*Go Titans!
I was standing there,
In the middle of his room
I was looking for a pen,
I needed to take down a number.
A tidy, clean room ;
A beautiful sticky on the page of a diary.
“Unspoken love is something
Very hard to deal at times
It simply touches you somewhere,
Shakes you to the core
And leaves an unfinished page behind;
An open-ended perception.”
From the window of the room,
I saw those beautiful, white, floating clouds
Those white clouds were moving swiftly,
Those diffused horses of my imagination!
I closed my eyes to bid those swift clouds farewell
As they have to reach the temple of Parthenon, one day.
That day, I will write a letter to Athena, the virgin, to greet those clouds!
The harvest specter
of Artemis levitates
in midnight sky
beyond a temple's frail bones.
Her aura imbues the marrow
as haunted zephyrs breathe imperial runes
culled from quarries
in the scintillating saffron
emblazoning Apollo's halcyon.
Atop graveyards of heroes
pillars weep dry pebbles to Aegean eminence,
from Alexander's subjugated Persians
to Agamemnon’s trickery
on the plains of Troy.
When marble shadows lengthen
and drift in her shifting light
the moon goddess
stills all whispers
as she mourns the spectacle of bravura
retreating to dust.
6/20/18
To sip sickly sweet cardamom
tea with cinnamon and honey
And eat cakes by the Parthenon
where the whole blue world is sunny
Not a single sweet iced daydream
not some drug induced affection
Can warm me like your mild sunbeams
and your smothering perfection
The potions that I, earthly, know
create happiness so it seems
But no gilded high nor base low
can match you in my fevered dreams
I snatch at the shiniest toys
I can't stop my sickly impulse
Of all the injectible joys
Your love is what spikes my pulse
I married marble, that ancient stone.
I married stories, of long ago.
I married the muses, and all of Troy,
Helen and that war.
The Odyssey and all Homer’s songs.
The Acropolis, and the Parthenon,
All these things,
And so much more,
Came with my wedding ring, I now wear.
Just a simple band of gold,
Brought with it,
An olive branch of old,
For my children to recognize,
As their ancient heritage, a culture of stone.
All I ask is for them to,
Feel the marble within their veins.
As they now go about their modern lives.
This I pray as I sit,
Meditating on my favored, Christian image,
The Blessed Kiss,
I believe that balance of spirit will come one day.
Inspired by my Greek married life, as Rose Raikos. New and different from my childhood of a daughter of Jack(R.I.P.1984) and Mary Bibby.
maybe see the deepest valley in the ocean
or Mars
maybe see the Lincoln and Vietnam Memorial
or Tibet
maybe see the oldest living tree on the planet
or the Parthenon
maybe see Bethlehem and the Wailing Wall
or a volcano
maybe see distant relatives I've never known
or yesterday...
or you again
maybe see both of you again, before I die
before I die again...
3/18/13
Tim Ryerson
Nette Onclaud's 'Wanderlust' contest
Enduring Symbol
Athenian Monument
Is The Parthenon
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/places.php
Plato's Solilique
So we join the protest of the war
with six others by the hardware store
we carry signs and cars honk us
wave at angry others who jeer us,
we find democracy, gasping, alive
lifting a stone off something that died..
It was poetry of the suburban streets
read to the unwashed.. SUVs
I am unwashed, unheardof, unashamd
unnoticed, unprepared, unaimed,
a bottle hits Patrick full throttle
It was neither half full nor half empty.
He is Plato on the steps
of the Parthenon, debating
the course of the republic
with the cars, interchanging
and the roman troops,
over the Tiber, congregating..
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