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Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
Our friends, they see your eyes in mine,
our special sideways glance,
I am your echo left behind,
and every often chance,
I catch them looking in my eyes,
discerning you from me,
when tears well up in their own eyes,
it's only me I see.

(C)2009, Christos Rigakos
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
ngiti mo sumunog sa puso ko
mata mo alipimin kaluluwa ko
kapag ikay nakatitig sakin
napapaso ako sayong mga tinging magpakailanman

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
Awakened by the rumble in the ground,
I stared unfocused at a rolling cloud
of smoke and black soot falling all around,
and startled at the thunder-crack so loud,
          that scared to lifeless sleep a thousand faces,
          which littered fields to the most remote places.

The rumbling, now with squeaking iron wheels,
grew louder as the iron beasts approached,
I stood  and reeled upon two aching heels,
the sight of monsters ready to encroach.
          I fell beneath the belly of one beast,
          devoured into its raging, trampling feast.

Awakened by the whooshing of my breath,
pressed out from lungs and skin so completely,
after the cracking, crunching sound of death,
where pneuma from its flesh finds liberty.
          As light as soot-less air that blows away,
          I bid farewell to me.  I could not stay.

Around the fields where soldiers came to slay,
some shadows danced their jig victoriously,
while others puppeteered warriors in play,
and bathed in blood-warm sin so joyfully.
          And white-robed praying men stood off aside,
          with faces deep in praying hands to hide.

And,  as if sniffing blood upon the air,
some shadows turned their heads at once to me,
proceeded to approach like floating hair
of one drowned, pushed about, under  the sea.
          Their un-mouthed accusations, gurgled screams,
          struck fearsome that I burned up at my seams.

Yet one warm hand upon my shoulder stayed
my tremblings, my accusers ghastly shrieked.
My fears, not fully quenched, were much allayed.
The white-robed man, in un-mouthed words did speak,
          in my defense, recalling all good deeds,
          at times when his advice I'd somehow heed.

The raging shrieks cast all I ever did,
from infancy until this very war,
all things exposed and all I ever hid,
my very being was bared down to my core.
          In minutes lasting for eternity,
          my every living moment I could see.

Both sides had piled my deeds upon a scale,
each deed a colored weight much like a stone.
When one would add his stone,  the other'd wail,
till finally I found myself alone.
          I looked around and saw no one in sight,
          as darkness overcame me with a fright.

In blindness, all around me, grinding teeth,
unreachable, beyond my farthest reach,
a heaviness, as trapped down underneath,
a chasm, somewhere, never to be breached.
          The argument had finished, I surmised,
          with my conclusion hardly a surprise.

(C)2010, Christos Rigakos
For lack of a better genre or poetic form description I would categorize this poem as a Linked Quatrain-Couplet Narrative (or a Venus and Adonis Narrative--after the Shakespeare poem of the same name written in iambic pentameter), and somewhat in the style of William Wordsworth's "Daffodils" (1804), written in iambic tetrameter.

After more extensive research, I found this to be a Narrative of Sicilian Heroic Sestets (of rhyme scheme ababcc), not to be confused with the Italian form (of rhyme scheme abbacc).  The Sicilian Heroic Sestet is identical to the English Sestet (which I believe was brought to England from Italy by Petrarch?)

As an extra aside, this form was inspired in me after reading a poem of similar form inside the wrapper of a Chocolov chocolate bar.  Great chocolate, great poetry.
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
The mourning dove--it casts its shadow long,
from windowsill, along my bedroom floor,
black sprawled across my bed until the door--
it fills my ears with morbid sighing song.

Throughout the day on paths I walk along,
it sits on bare tree branches up on high,
and sounds aloud its four-tone lonely sigh,
its presence ever-subtle, ever-strong.

And when I then return from where I've roamed,
in my so vain attempts to daily flee,
where I realize there's no escape from me,
the mourning dove, it greets me when I'm home.

Perched on my windowsill, within my sight,
it starts once more its melancholy song,
and casts again its shadow growing long,
that blends into the darkness of the night.

(C)2007, Christos Rigakos
Standard Quatrain Form
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
insane, i boxed the snarling dragon's snout
and bruised its lips, bruised knuckles on its teeth
i struck its eyes above and chin beneath
it snarled and growled, i punched it all about

my desperation vanished quick all doubt
without a mighty sword, even a sheath--
to slice open that throat just underneath--
just ****** flurry storm with thunder shout

i pried open its mouth, my damsel there
much deeper in the throat this time around
i reached and pulled her out past snapping jaws

how often must i raid this dragon's lair
to save one who in dragon's mouth be found
so frequently delicious with her flaws?

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Petrarchan (Italian) Sonnet
Christos Rigakos Apr 2012
Alice In Chains embodies my soul,
complete reflection of my toll,
their addiction, and my addiction,
same in pain and all affliction,

Drugs for them and love for me,
equal in savage dependency,
taken away from us, we tremble,
I and my Chains, in this, we resemble,

In howling minor keys they play,
matching my feeling, enhancing its way,
expressing with lyrics so concrete and cold
the burning blackness of our broken soul.

(C)1999, Christos Rigakos
Standard Quatrain.
Christos Rigakos Mar 2012
eight months we loved and fought with equal rage
upon the net's equator spinning round
we baked our flesh in sun of summer's age
and died on winter's snow filled concrete ground

this, every day a battle to the death
we slaughtered one another to the grave
then making love, restoring life with breath
we'd soar back to the skies embraced and saved

each day has been a lifetime full of life
lived fully in our love den's angry place
ineffable our love in passion's strife
so many resurrections in one space

and now too tired to raise again the sword
we rest with silenced love and not a word

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos
Sonnet
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