Love lusting butterflies
cold is there, in deep
but warmth comes out
of your yearning soul
what do you hide there
cristalls of forgiveness
pearls of pure wiseness
and drops of sadness
the taste of life is sweet
the taste of living, bitter
mingle the beauty in one
and you see the depth
of love and eternity.

Before the dawn greets
gentle steps walk closer
down the glistening snow
but there is nobody near
the soft wind blows away
my essence and exictance
maybe it was only me
strolling along the snow
in my other world of beauty
which nobody sees nor hears
but all the mystery and art
comes to live in the heart.

The feeling has not eluded yet
the rain not ceased or silenced
still you say somewhere far
that music, it engulfs it all.

In the bright nigh of spring
while all the flowers whisper
and water streams of happiness
life here is never meaningless.

The songs of birds and trees
the sound of pure liveliness
and you murmur, it recedes
when the music of heart bleeds.

The sunrays flicker on earth
diving nimbly through trees
casting their light in search
of time and life they seize.

Down this alley of memory
leaves crunching in silence
I once wandered longingly
searching the soul's balance.

Collecting crumbled parts
where lies the spirit of a poet
the glowing, shivering heart
echoing in the eternal moment.

He keeps my stories to himself,
The ones I can't tell anyone else;
He laughs with me at myself,
And even more at one's self.

Stealing away from the noise and glare
I paced the aisles of an ancient library
Being worn and tired, indisposed to read
I sat in a corner, lost in half reverie

Around me were books stacked end on end
In safely locked glass and wooden shelves
And sectioned into different genres
Fiction, non- fiction, verse et al, in thinly layered leaves

I felt lost in this vast continent of erudite friends
Poet, scholar, philosopher and sage, each sat quiet
But those silent souls seemed to crave for human touch
Waiting to serve anytime learning’s lovesome diet

Closely sheltered from the tumult of the world
The place, though serene had an eerie air
And books like so many beauties in a harem
Were kept away in seclusion just to admire

The lifeless air and the long deserted look
Mildly disturbed my inner calm
Couldn’t digest man’s total disregard of books
Which for long, to many a lonely soul, served as balm

Sitting amid those gallant souls
I thought over the relentless efforts of sage like men
Who in the stillness of the night, in their cloistured cells
Plunged into research and meditative reflection

What knowledge is garnered in these tomes!
What all charms, encased in these pages!
To what magic lands they can carry us
Sharing with us the accumulated wisdom of ages

With the profusion of electronic gadgets
And information, readily available by a finger hit
Books no more are given a venerable treat
And fated to be stashed away in corners unlit

Heavy with the time tested wisdom of the wise
They sit huddled together in damp corners
Longing to get a little human warmth
But sadly neglected like rusted burners

After an hour’s enervating reprieve
While I was leaving that dumb world
In my ears, fell a faint sound
Of the agonizing cry of the Printed Word!

Like a snowflake in a micro-planet
flying around in the vast universe
fading away, melting for eternity.
Small breaths carry your memories
fall of tears slide down the cheek
as the raindrops on your window
pouring out the life from your chest.
The little snowflake had a beauty,
meaning on its own, truth in the core,
hidden and observed, as life knows
how brittle and precious is every breath.

Twirly
Swirly
Whirly
soft as a willow wisp glides
Lift
Shift
Drift
Into the air they slide

In the morning, a lively blackbird
calls for its loyal companion.
The dawn is young and luminous
As the painting on the old easel.
From the crack of the window
a breeze plays around the vivid room
tenderly touching the dry paintings
of last month’s tears and blood.

Standing at the door, observing,
the eyes wandering carefully
surpassing every slight detail,
closing for seconds, to compose
a pile of memories and pictures.
The coffee, ready on the windowsill,
a gust of smells swirl in the room
melting on the canvas depicting a hill.

Inspiration, I need you, dear muse,
are you blue, black or bordeaux
show me the landscape and love,
pour into me the tingling liquid,
so I can close the eyes and limn,
the paintbrush leaving impressions
like the life leaves traces in my soul
with flammable sharp expressions.

The hill on the threadbare canvas
multiplies as the colours mingle
bold lines swirl into each other,
the Pangoian Hills, fair Koutra,
the glory of Greece embraces it.
Lost in the tale, forgetting the rest,
what else keeps my soul in place
as the world makes it repressed.

I fly thousand miles away, painting
I hear the piano in my head, sonata,
Beethoven, the day’s melancholy.
The brush slides and curl swiftly
the beauty of nature comes to life,
passionate impulse, instinctive urge
precision and fever absorbs the Artist,
irresistible and weakening surge.

Day and night, trying hard to survive
grasping the world’s innate essence
yet never getting back enough or thrive
the Artist works, loves and dreams
living in the marvellous inner world
neatly painting the life of the universe
sitting from place to place, searching
hoping to succeed, trying to immerse.

Years passing, the music still playing
I need ardour to find the meaning.
Greece is glowing under the sunlight
throwing diamonds from the sky.
The Artist senses immense love
soft brush in the hand comes alive,
clear beauty, happiness flowing over
as the Artist eternally closes the eyes.