1967 -    31 followers
No degrees, no pedigree, no special honors. Greek-German-American part-time scribbler and over-thinker.


Co-creator of the largest repository of Villanelle poems on planet Earth:
http://TheVillanelle.blogspot.com
No degrees, no pedigree, no special honors. Greek-German-American part-time scribbler and over-thinker.


Co-creator of the largest repository of Villanelle poems on planet Earth:
http://TheVillanelle.blogspot.com

our wedding album
shoved into my hands
her memories
wiped off the shelves
to start a new collection



(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Tanka

open skies
love birds fly off
on the mind
empty tree branch
where we sat under



(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Tanka

old mother
bent over
the grave
seems closer
this year



(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Tanka

I wondered once while still a curious child
of who I was before I was, because
I listened to those people on T.V.
speak wondrously of who they were before.
They'd found a way to cause remembrance,
under hypnosis, where by regressing
back and farther past their very birth,
and nine months farther back beyond the meet
of sperm and egg, and years more farther back,
they could describe the people that they were.
I wondered who I was before I was,
until one day I read a certain news,
a scientific study done to see
the people who some people truly were.
One hundred people hypnotized did see
their lives before the lives which they now lived.
And forty-eight were Abraham Lincoln.
I closed the newspaper and took a walk,
and never more subscribed to idle talk.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Blank Verse

She often seems confused, and pauses midway
through a task, unsure which way to go,
and drops her task to move on to another.
With hurting feet and tunnel vision, hearing
muffled, voices staticky and loud,
confusion is a sea she cannot swim.
She is an hourglass, her memory,
slow falling through the hole, and all her days
are passing through a chasm out of reach.
The old one slowly turning back to child,
needs mothering from children till she's born.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Blank Verse

She strolled along the narrow pathway through
the park.  Her soft skirt flitting  in the breeze,
her long legs smooth and pampered, sandaled feet
took mellow steps under the Springtime sun.

She caught the eye of Fred, who from his book
rose up bespectacled and drank the scene
of one young beauty carried by the breeze,
and thanked the Lord for all His wondrous things.

She noticed that he noticed and she sneered,
disdainfully and crushed him with the lids
of scornful eyes that closed upon his face,
and cursed the womb that birthed this pervert live.

She caught the eye of Tom, whose magazine
dropped to the bench from fingers preening hair,
his lion's gaze devouring this gazelle,
and she took notice of his notice there.

She threw back hair and turned to meet his gaze
with sideways glance, a wink, and half pursed lips,
amazed a stroll from bench to bench could find
a pervert and a stud so side by side.

Both men came to the park to sit and read,
and read indeed, then both, like men, did do
what men so do, and neither differed there,
yet one was deemed a pervert, one a stud.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Blank verse

The congressman from Mars whose many gaffes
Led to his drop in ratings at the poll,
And whose awful decisions marred his role,
Had found his explanation drowned in laughs.

And following his footsteps and his paths
The congressman from Venus bared his soul,
Explained why his career has borne its toll,
By drawing on his skin some stats and graphs.

Because I'm green, the Martian dared to tell
Constituents, that's why I'm hated so!
Because I'm purple, the Venusian cried

Unto an Earth whose races blended well
To shades of black, and who have learned to know
That gaffes behind a color can not hide.

(C)2014, Christos Rigakos

Italian (Petrarchan) Sonnet
 
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