2018 Travels ~ A Poem a Day for 40 Days

Jul. 29, 2018

Wrinkled faces greet one another,
A flash of recognition
Greek smiles light up
Eyes are as the stars above.

Ancient tree arches over the platia,
A trunk 15 men could surround,
Dancers step and kick,
White napkin leads the way

Clarinet weaves notes together
Byzantine tonic hums...
Bouzouki undulates
And the basal beat brings fever

Jul. 29, 2018

Shadow box cut out
Tiny aloe sits alone
Blossoms blow beyond

Mountainside torrents
Sweep suddenly through the hills
Droplets cling to vines

Misty rainfall past
Cicada’s voice rasps anew
Rooster calls his hens

Clouds tumble across
A sky still filled with moisture
Dry earth sighs relief

Quiet village wakes
Cool air welcomes busy tasks
Lazy sleep is done.

Jul. 24, 2018

Clouds pass by
Covering the sky in ash grey;
Matching my mood,
As my brow furrows
In worry and fear

Our peace was disturbed ~
Or rather, we awoke from an ideal,
Where we thought we were safer
Than the rest of the world,
But this is an illusion.

There is weeping at home
And weeping abroad,
Precious life taken from us...
Grief and guilt wash over me,
Ashes everywhere.

It hasn’t always been like this..,
Or has it?

Jul. 24, 2018

Stealing Joy

Ah, how fragile the psyche is,
For one that routinely steals
The joy of others
Is in the most fear
Of having their own joy stolen.

How the one
who can always comment
Is left speechless
When no response
to them is given,

And those who appear
The most confident
Are really the ones
Who need the most
Validation and approval.

Jul. 22, 2018

I know not where I am
Not in the sense of being lost,
But of being intoxicated...
By a man

He holds me not as though I’ll break,
No... more as though I’ll be separated from him;
But in this moment,
There’s nowhere else I’d long to be

He’s unafraid, of anything -
Of what you’ll care, of what you say.
While others from their shadows run,
His blood’s to be admired.

This depth to which I love him
Is not superficial,
Though handsome indeed,
His character is what speaks to me.

His green eyes look into mine
With volumes to say,
Yet nothing is spoken;
His touch lights me on fire.

Hot air sweeps over us
Through the shutters,
Crickets sing their evensong,
And I slip and fall, more deeply than before.

I used to dream of a Greek man,
He was the one who’d save me;
Now here I am, wrapped in his arms,
Greece herself epitomized.