Still Waters

excerpt

you’d been drinking.”
“No one noticed – except Cam, of course. I was so embarrassed.
And he felt terrible.” Tyne put her elbows on the kitchen table and
covered her face with her hands.
Moe grunted. “Serves him right for asking a personal question.”
“But he had a right to know.” Tyne lifted her head and regarded
her roommate seriously. “After all, he asked me to dinner and I accepted.
Whenever he’d done that before, I’d refused point blank.”
“Well, it proves one thing,” Moe said as she spread jam on a slice of
toast, “you haven’t got Morley out of your system.”
“I’ve tried, God knows. In fact, as I sat in that lovely place with
Cam last night, I told myself I was over Morley completely.”
“Yeah, sure.” Moe motioned with her head towards the gas range.
“Coffee’s getting cold.”
Tyne sighed and got to her feet. “He’s never even called to see how
I am or … or anything.”
“Look, kiddo, I know how you must feel, and I’m sorry. I liked
Morley and I wish you two could have worked things out.” Moe
stabbed the air with her toast. “But, from what I hear, these mixed
religion things just don’t work. Better you find that out now than
after you’re married and fighting over whether the kids are going to
attend Sunday School or catechism classes.”
Tyne popped two slices of bread into the decrepit toaster. “I suppose
you’re right. Oh, Moe, why is life so difficult? I’ve known Morley
for years, and I liked him as a friend. Why did we have to fall in
love? He should be marrying someone from his own faith, and I …
well, I ….”
“Should at least be going steady with that good Catholic boy, Dr.
Cam Tournquist. You do like him, don’t you, kiddo?”
Tyne allowed herself a brief smile as she stirred cream into her coffee.
“It would be very hard not to like him. He’s a real gentleman, and
fun to be with. But … help! That stupid toaster again.” She slapped
the offending appliance on the side to make the blackened toast pop
up. “I don’t have time for this,” she said angrily as she tossed the
burnt pieces into the garbage.
With tears close, she grabbed her coffee and headed for her bedroom.
“That settles it. We’re going to get a new toaster. And I’m going
to get a new boyfriend!”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

Ken Kirkby : Warrior Painter

Painter’s Ode
I’ve sung the song of colors, murmured the painter’s
lips, I’ve sung pastels and ochre, the chiaroscuro and
the oblique, the mesmerising and the delightful, tools and
armoury opposite the gross, the tip of my brush eternity.
Arrows can’t pierce my heart, bad words can’t blacken
my aura nor evil sight can blemish my innocence.
I’ve sung. Diaphanous I’ve stayed, people’s tongues
can’t spoil me and in the hands of gross I am but a bad
loot. Chirps of birds I’ve painted, women’s skin I’ve
touched, on humble table food I’ve enjoyed, my brush’s
wealth reverently laid unto the feet of the Eternal.
Nothing of me remains but the softest mist over
the void until I shall return, a raindrop, to moist roots
of grain, to enter a man’s sperm, to will my rebirth.
Your eyes stop at the turn of the road though mine
see far in my past, further into my future: one fruit,
one flower, a newborn to the next virgin who will
bear me.
~ Manolis Aligizakis

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562902

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CB8W4CG

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

Night
Life is a night without a dawn
Tired lovers walk in
midnight streets
and the window shutters drip
the retained pain
the teary eyed, stooping moon
lands onto the roofs
the fragrant sorrow of the roses
will follow its own path.
Our lamp stands silent
pale and mysterious
the door of my house opened
as if the corpse will come out.
The bed scolds their joy
and they think it creaks
they don’t understand
the bed foresees the future deaths
sad songs lament in taverns
during the starry night
that was to be infused in love
played by barrel organs.
Sweet memories
poured in glasses await
random events will recant their parts
and people will listen
cemetery of daily deaths
the park shivers
when the dead stirs
to lean onto the grass and rest

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763459

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562951

Red in Black

Wonder
I opened my arms
hugged her tightly
I felt the fire
of her body
attraction of two that turned
into a conflagration
that burnt my essence
which reality?
Ι asked
the one in my dream
or the one that vanished
when Ι opened my eyes?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771713208

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562962

The Circle

excerpt

Their attorney got the green light from the family to take the offer.
Now it’s just a matter of the attorneys putting the documents together and
getting the signatures in order.”
“When do you move in, buddy?” Talal asks.
“We have a closing date, the fifteenth of October. I pay on that day and we
can move in any time after that. I see us moving in toward the end of October, or
earlier. We still need to get a few more things, as it is a bigger place and needs
more furniture to fill it. This week sometime I’ll ask the agent for the keys. We
need to go in a couple of times to see the apartment in more detail and see the
configuration of the place so we know what to buy.”
“Well, you won’t have much of a problem when it comes to finding new
things for the apartment; you have a good helper in that department,” Talal
points to Jennifer.
They all laugh in agreement with Talal.
Hakim takes a cup from the cupboard and pours himself a coffee; then sits
next to Emily and asks, “How are you?”
“I’m good.”
He notices that Jennifer’s mom has the sweetest eyes he has ever seen in a
woman; now he understands why a man like Talal, who loves to play around
with a lot of women, is so attracted to Emily.
“I’d like you to know that if there is anything, anything you need, please give
me the honor of helping you.”
Emily turns and looks with amazement at this young Iraqi man, who knows
how to treat a person in the most refined and polite way. Jennifer is a very lucky
girl to have him. Emily feels there is nothing this man will not do when it comes
to pleasing.
She gives him her happiest smile and says, “Thank you. I’ll remember that,
sweet Hakim; I’ll remember that, I promise.”
He smiles and puts his arm around her shoulders, “Always remember that I
can help you in a lot more ways than one.”
“I’ll remember that, as well, Hakim. Thank you for your kind words.”
Talal, who hasn’t missed any of their exchange, says with a light laugh, “That’s
my buddy. By the way, when are we going car shopping?”
“Soon, very soon!” Hakim laughs as well.
The time comes for them to make their way to the funeral home for the
service and Emily goes upstairs to finish getting ready.
Jennifer takes Hakim to the side and asks, “What was that all about?”
“What?”
“My mother, you asking her if she needs anything and all that.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume V

Forgeries
How do people still walk, he says, how do they still
talk? The teeth fall off, the hair. Nails turn inward. Pockets
get holes from old useless coins. What points does the poem
invent? Stones upon stones, grass around the graves,
the chimney, leaves, words. You hit the windowpane with
your nail, you hear the sound. the other man can’t hear it.
newspapers killed people. The headless mannequin wears
a new black coat. In the tailor’s shop “Left, or right?” the
tailor asks; he insists: “Depending on the side the testicles
are, he says, one makes a suitable pair of pants” The straw
mannequin, vaguely amiable, agrees with a movement
of his invisible head.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763726

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562980

Unfulfilled

The Wall
You were born
One month
Before
The Fall of the Berlin Wall
Nine months later
My birthday
Indicated
I was made
For you, albeit
We met each other way too late
Now hopeless, weak, hurt,
I can tell
Walking along a wall – cold, dark
The wall in your heart
Never fell

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763688

Jazz with Ella

excerpt

kitchen, sat him at the plain wooden table, and brought out an unlabelled bottle of clear liquid and two glasses. “Na dne, to the bottom,” he shouted, tossing back the fiery substance and watching while Paul did the same. “To Vera’s comrade! What’s your name again, lad?”
To Russians, the word “Paul” in English sounded much like the Russian word for sex, pol. He wanted to divest himself of this name ever since he had noticed Russian speakers smothering a giggle when he was introduced.
Vera cut in quickly. “It’s Pavel in Russian, Papa. He speaks good Russian, don’t you think? He learned it from a bourgeois—a Count.”
“You don’t mind that Vera brought me here?” Paul asked.
“Of course not. Welcome, Pavel,” the older man repeated, but a nervous flicker appeared in his eyes and he addressed Vera next. “He comes from the riverboat excursion of foreigners, you say?”
Vera repeated the whole story of the meeting, including the part about sitting with the political commissar (which was some kind of honour or some kind of punishment, Paul wasn’t sure which) and receiving permission to visit her father’s farm for her time off the following day. She went to some length to describe the passenger lounge, the drinks, the snacks, the western clothing, and the unsmiling cruise director. She excluded the part about the liaison in the boathouse. Paul was surprised that she had noticed so much. His memory of the day involved only her.
“Welcome, Pavel,” Fyodor repeated to Paul, then added, “Won’t you be missed?” And in an aside in a loud whisper to Vera, “It is forbidden to have visitors without permits. Keep him out of sight.”
“My friend Ted knew I was leaving the boat,” Paul said quickly. “They won’t miss me.” It was a lie but justified, he felt.
The evening passed quickly in conversation. Fyodor, mellowed by alcohol, relaxed once more and shuffled outside to tend to the chickens. Vera arranged a makeshift bed for Paul on a narrow window seat by the stove.
“I sleep up there,” she said demurely, pointing at a steep staircase that led to a dark upper floor. “Papa sleeps there,” and she pointed at a bed in the corner. “I’ll get you some water for washing.”
“Do you want me to come up there and tuck you in?” he asked grinning.
She looked uncertain. “What is this ‘tuck you in?’”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Marginal

Vision
Anywhere I turn my eyes
I see the struggle and I listen to
the groan of my homeland
anywhere I turn I observe
dry imitations unnatural,
sorrowful caricatures and
inhumane mimicry
anywhere I turn my attention
I listen to bitter words and sighs
entelechy is absent from
bodies that tremble in front of
the mind’s worst anguish
and I see frightened people
among the statues and the nettles
where they grope to find
the absent initiation of life
I hear the constant grumble
of my people rising from
the gleaming ancient beauty
that now is mixed with
embarrassment of these brave
men now adorned with
Armani suits and two sips of life
in the neighbourhood pub.
Anywhere I turn I see cheapness
and debauchery the statues see too
and groan in disbelief as the ancient
sun laments the life passing
in front of the imitation of Hermes
who sheds tears of desperation
at high noon, the hour shadows
vanish and the heavy load
of the consumer infiltrates
into the soul of my homeland
this is the time of the miasma
the dawn refuses to look at
or take part in the conspiracy
anywhere I turn my eyes
I see puppets and servants
of a system that buys them out
for the luxury of the little joy
they supposed to need and for which
they remain slaves forever

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771715987

https://draft2digital.com/book/3747032

Savages and Beasts

excerpt

But how when the ones we trust to uphold the holy of the
holies sin the way street people do?
“Before the white man came to this land,” his father continued
his thoughts, “these people were as happy as they could
be in their world, their environment, lifestyle, beliefs, nature; the
day the white man arrived with their beliefs, prisons, arms, with
their censors and jailors, guards and merchants, the free world
ideals, these savages were looked as enemies and their way of
life was an obstacle in the white man’s survival next to them in
their lands, so the free people, the Anglos, started aiming, from
that very first day, at how they could change these savages into
their kind of savages, their kin, and the rest is history. And the
results of this drama, this tragedy better yet, are described in
these diary entries.”
Nothing could be said that could console Anton tonight,
nothing his father could add, nothing that his mother could offer
him, nothing could make him feel better than those two melancholy
eyes he loved but how could he find them now, at this time?
Perhaps Mary was resting now in her room before she would go
to sleep. How he would love to be next to her, in her bed, hugging
her delicate body, listening to her soft words, touching her wavy
hair, kissing her soft lips. Nothing of that was in tonight’s cards.
Anton didn’t even feel going to Molly’s for his usual coffee and
cheesecake.
Dylan was buried in the School cemetery as unceremoniously
as possible and with just a few of the children attending;
the priests made sure to bring the older kids only, so about thirty
boys and thirty girls stood in rows of three, like new soldiers on
their first line of defence. Father Jerome said a few words then
the errorless undertakers did their job under the watchful eye of
the Lord and the soft rustle of the tree leaves …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602