to my perfect stranger;

your voice still reverberates
through the cavities of my head,
but i’d rather have you here,
soft words in my ears instead.

i miss your chestnut eyes,
the way they interlocked with mine,
your tousled brown hair shining
as the stars above us seemed to align.

now, while you govern my thoughts,
every word we spoke on constant replay,
i work to memorize your each and every flaw,
for they’ll begin to fade; one by one, day by day.

soon you will cease to exist to me,
your presence now a thought i’d beg to run into.
your touch will soon be washed clear off my skin,
yet when i’m alone, i’ll open my arms to the ghost of you.

there will be countless days and weeks
where your voice doesn’t tiptoe up my spine,
where our memories never try to board my train of thought,
yet when i’m feeling dismal, i’ll remember that you once were mine.

you’ve shown me the beauty in anonymity,
the simplicity of two lonely souls breathing in time.
you’re still a beautiful stranger to me,
your name, your story, a set of words; unable to rhyme.

when my tidal wave of thoughts begins to calm,
your youthful giggle sends ripples through the waters,
remembering how serendipitous you were to me,
for maybe you and i would’ve bonded had the water been hotter.

i find myself doubting the truth in your existence,
for your being is simply beginning to blur.
you were a god-sent blessing to me,
an unexpected summer storm that i never dreamed could occur.

you left your mark on my forehead,
a moment keeping eyes from staying dry,
yet we only said “goodnight”,
never gracing each other with a fateful “goodbye”.

i know that years from now i’ll look back,
remembering bits and piece of my adolescent days,
your name will shine through the cracks in my brain,
i’ll save you then, for in my heart you will stay.

but now for the benefit of my own well being,
your space in my head prepares to greatly decrease.
you’ve slipped through my fingertips like endless sun-tinted beaches,
yet i will always crave you when they day time does cease.

(Arturo, Lucca, Miguel, Frederick, Marco, Cruz, Pedro and Ivan were playing cards and chess. Lucca, Cruz and Miguel started to smoke clay pipes.)

''Nice angled bowl with a coat of arms, '' said Lucca. ''Yes, '' said Cruz
While smoking and relaxing, ''where did you buy them, Lucca? ''
''This one is made in Holland- a way to liberate your muse.''
''Give new life to a broken heart, '' said Miguel, '' It's like scuba, ''

Laughed Lucca, '' Ivan, how could you avoid the army as a serf? ''
''As a yeoman having my own land, I had an accident.''
Cruz asked him, ’’Did you receive some support from a dwarf? ''
''I broke my left leg when I fell from my horse- a strange event.''

''Interesting! '' said Marco. ''You became a rich merchant
In the Ottoman Empire.'' ''Yes, I sold my land, '' smiled Ivan.
''You could go to Moscow, '' ''I didn't want to be a servant.''
'' I was a middleman in the fur trade, '' ''Let's enliven

This game with some wine! '' '' These cards are unique, '' said Pedro.
''This rare pictorial pack is made in London, '' said Marco.
Marco told Cruz, ''If you need new cards, I'll give you pronto.''
''Give me the most immoral hand, '' laughed Cruz, ''come in, Fargo! ''

(Fargo entered to bring the wine, which was served using glasses. Ibrahim brought dried fruits, nuts, biscuits and small cakes. The women had spent over an hour dressing for this meeting because it was customary for women to change their entire outfit for any event on the ship. Rosa, Geraldine and Erica were doing some needlework. Carla, Chiara and Pedra were reading some expensive books. Chiara chose to read a book written by Elena Piscopia, Carla was reading some philosophy by Mary Astell and Pedra liked the books written by Aphra Behn. Francesca started to paint and Bella was trying to play ‘’Capriccio stravagante’’ by the Italian composer Carlo Farina using a violin.)

Francesca said, '' The violin replaced the viol, ''
''The music written for it established its identity, ''
Said Rosa, ''I like the opera 'L'Orfeo' and its tale.''
''Through polyphony, Monteverdi has supremacy.''


Francesca continued, ''Chiara, what are you reading? ''
''A book about Christ written by the monk Laspergio and late
Translated by Elena Piscopia, a nun being
The first woman that graduated with a doctorate.''


Carla said, ''Francesca, what are you painting in that blue? ''
'' I'm not Caravaggio, still I paint a medusa.''
Carla replied, ''You used amazing hues, and it's sweet in view! ''
Chiara said, ''It's an image of the port of Siracusa! ''

(Francesca embraced Chiara.)

‘’ ''It's so lovely to see you together; you are good friends, ''
Said Geraldine while finishing her work, ''do you have children? ''
''I've married Arturo six years ago and our love ascends
After his long widowhood; Francesca is his daughter.''

Chiara took Geraldine's hand with a noble gesture
She told her that Arturo lost a fortune three months ago,
And this trip was offered by Lucca to change their life's texture.
''Maybe Francesca painted to petrify the time's flow.''

''Francesca is the sweetest child I've ever seen until now.
She's adorable in this purity of her mind.
She's shining like a star belonging to Ursa Major Plough,
And I love Arturo even in affairs he is so blind.''

(Arturo and Marco were the last passengers who left the room while talking. Arturo ended the conversation.)
‘’ Russia is a force needing an expansion quite quickly
But, unfortunately, her friends are not really her friends.
Pushing Russia, who is an honest power, clearly
Will turn the destiny of the whole world into dead ends.’’

(to be continued.....)

Poem by Marieta Maglas

I now know why you drove
on those dark winding roads.

the fear kicks in, your troubles
disappear and the only focus
is staying in between two yellow lines;
perfectly parallel
like you and I.

Put,
Pluck in center forward,
Self-starter in half-forward (right) and
Doers in half –forward (left);
Next,
Put Erudite as midfielder
Put Warden in back
Put Conjecture at last with
Scruples as goal keeper
Now,
Start the game
To win the cruise of life.......

You are a sailor
Drift way from the harbor
Pull up the anchor
That binds you down
Set sail towards the horizon
Take off the blindfold
And hoist the sail
Let the wind be your guide
Sun and the Moon your compass
Steering through uncharted waters
Sometimes calm weather
Or, inclement weather, rocking your ship
Tackling the deep waters with alacrity
Unfathomable depths, yet the ship sails
Cutting through the waters
The saline water, which is a part of you
Seagulls guide you towards the shore
Anchoring at the preferred destination
Every grain of sand cushions your feet
Welcoming you to the island of bliss
Cut off from the mainland
Yet, helping you connect with yourself
Now it’s time to unwind
And join the party after a successful voyage
Ready to set sail for another expedition
As a sailor, cruise till the end






© Amitav (Radiance)

Big ships, small ships, yachts and dingeys
Floating across the mighty sea
Carving their way, displacing their weight
To keep afloat the Captain and First mate.

Old ships, new ships, schooners and cruise liners
Have crossed paths throughout the ages old
Once to explore, make claim, pirate and fight
Now to wine and dine on a luxurious bite

Salted beef, rock hard bread and weevil-friendly biscuits
A 3 course meal fit for Old Salts alike
Weevils & worms and bugs of all kind
Along with sparse portions of meat, you might find

French wine, filet mignon, sushi and pastries
Buffets and fine dining, variety is key
All you can eat, whenever you'd like
No chores, no work, just eating all night'

What a contrast exists between these two worlds
Only 2 to 300 hundred years apart
Once grimy, risky, arduous and fraught
Now fancy, lazy, and much to be bought

What if the Old Salts could teleport to today
And live aboard our floating hotels?
With no masts to climb or sheets to tend
Would they break or would they bend?

I suppose that switch would be easy enough
But send us back to Pirate-ridden waters
You'd be sure never to hear from us again
Swabbing the deck would **** us alone
Not to mention the food and disease of back when.

- BPW 
Dec. 11, 2013

Maybe you're the colosseum. The code to get through the glass doors is actually just '1954'. You could put up the painting of me at auction, or I could take a cruise from London to the Islands North of Siberia, a stop in a department store in Northern Greece. I stop and take a ride in the middle front-third seat of a older friend's younger brother's car, and force all of them to come outside and see the spider's eggs at Bob-o-Link. Massive cornucopias of cotton walls entwined with silk.

In the department store I ask to be introduced to someone who can take me by the hand and recognize me by my number, show me everything I'll need to shoot a full-length feature, even how I can get to Prague so I can do a little shopping. But the horror of seeing is so frightening, and the girl that I came with wants to do nothing.

I find a little shop selling Czech candies, music, and newspapers, so I try to buy everything but the horror is getting closer. I'm in a lazy Susan, how often does that happen? One more turn and I'll lose my stomach contents and then I won't need anything.

I take a climb up a street that says "Smrzlinu Ahead," but the houses on the street are all either empty or boarded up. I drift in the soccer field, watching my legs, looking over my shoulder. I fall for a pile of clothes that can hide me but are also very soft to lay in.

Another cruise- tropical, perhaps? Somewhere for coy adults, who shed their skin in Winter when their eyes start molting off. Someday I will place both hands into the ocean, I'll dream huge, and go swimming until I start to laugh. One day I'll sink to the floor of the bourn, maybe the same day I wake up and I'm not swimming alone.