"sicily" poems
1705
Volcanoes be in Sicily
And South America
I judge from my Geography—
Volcanos nearer here
A Lava step at any time
Am I inclined to climb—
A Crater I may contemplate
Vesuvius at Home.
61.5k
He was born in 1924
And at 17 went to war.
Parachuted over Sicily,
Wounded, sent home to live in civility.
One day he met a Ryder,
Tall and elegant and regal.
Married her and made a home,
Though the front lawn lacked a gnome.
He died before I could really know him.
But what I remember is this:
His heart was good and full of love,
Tender, strong and not at all rough.
He pulled quarters from my ears
Whenever I saw him.
He and Shadow walked the beach
For miles before a swim.
He smoked cigars and drank beer
While playing cribbage.
And he was my favorite person
When I was four years old.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:46 PM UTC
O singer of Persephone!
In the dim meadows desolate
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still through the ivy flits the bee
Where Amaryllis lies in state;
O Singer of Persephone!
Simaetha calls on Hecate
And hears the wild dogs at the gate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Still by the light and laughing sea
Poor Polypheme bemoans his fate;
O Singer of Persephone!
And still in boyish rivalry
Young Daphnis challenges his mate;
Dost thou remember Sicily?
Slim Lacon keeps a goat for thee,
For thee the jocund shepherds wait;
O Singer of Persephone!
Dost thou remember Sicily?
9.5k
On the sea-shore, smell of iodine,
and square as in Sicily, and dancing.
An intellectual that came from the common people,
preparing himself to be Rosencrantz.
He decides to serve Claudius and therefore
spy on Prince Hamlet from the fountain.
All over the world — the prison. At the world's
end a certain John plays the piano.
Already darkness, and the end is in sight :
Ophelia crying in an empty hut.
And Hamlet walks to and fro with white headband,
in order to be recognized by the Ghost in the gloom.
6.8k
My dear Icarus,
Have you brought tales of gold for me?
You-- the master of self,
The one who held his own thread and shears.
Don't share of how hard you beat your wings
But how the air beat against your brow.
Don't echo your father's faded cries
But sing the songs of the Aegean sea--
Sing them only for me!
My sweet Icarus,
Is the world as grand as the travelers say?
Are crumbling maps and hand-spun tales nothing to compare?
I've read of Sicily, where your father rests his mourning head.
I've traced its rivers as they curved against my torn papyrus.
Sicily, the land of Aetna.
Oh, to watch the land shake at the beckoning of her call
(Oh, to fly free of these labyrinth walls)!
My darling Icarus,
Tell me-- is life better above the blanket of Grecian blue?
Is it better than what the Fates designed?
Is it better than what I hold today
(please, let it be more than today)?
My beloved Icarus,
Will you give me your wings--
The mingling of feather, wax, and dreams.
Will you give me your wings and
Your will to yearn higher and higher
So that I too can reach the city of gold.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
And here face down beneath the sun
And here upon earth’s noonward height
To feel the always coming on
The always rising of the night
To feel creep up the curving east
The earthy chill of dusk and slow
Upon those under lands the vast
And ever climbing shadow grow
And strange at Ecbatan the trees
Take leaf by leaf the evening strange
The flooding dark about their knees
The mountains over Persia change
And now at Kermanshah the gate
Dark empty and the withered grass
And through the twilight now the late
Few travelers in the westward pass
And Baghdad darken and the bridge
Across the silent river gone
And through Arabia the edge
Of evening widen and steal on
And deepen on Palmyra’s street
The wheel rut in the ruined stone
And Lebanon fade out and Crete
High through the clouds and overblown
And over Sicily the air
Still flashing with the landward gulls
And loom and slowly disappear
The sails above the shadowy hulls
And Spain go under the the shore
Of Africa the gilded sand
And evening vanish and no more
The low pale light across that land
Nor now the long light on the sea
And here face downward in the sun
To feel how swift how secretly
The shadow of the night comes on…
4.1k
It is
And it's changing
The wind into summer shower
Into mushrooms and birds mouth
From river to the sewer
It is and it's changing
From dark to light to dim with
Speckles of sun born by the
Mirror in you childlike hand
You are catching dust bunnies
Sneezing and laughing
And the dirt could be followed by magic
And the kiss isn't greased by the notion
Of sin and the sin is only a word from the book
Death and insanity
Are frightening and profound
Your world is built from
No buts but ands
And they flow into peace
Just as well as the film of oil
On the ***** puddle
Astonishes you with
An iridescent rainbow
Duality is born by fear
You split and separate so
Caught up in the survival game
To keep that face and partake
Of wealth and fame
Empty is locked in the dungeon
And the words interlock
In plain patterns
Yet alive as they produce sounds
And the smell of tangerines
On a tree by the coast of Sicily
Reminds you of the day
When you could still enjoy
The warmth of sun
It absorbed into its juicy flesh
And there's no need to run
No need to stay
No need to cut off the ties
When life offers you more
And the heat and cold are feelings
That gets names as they replace each other
As they flow unstoppable
Dripping reactions
Burning like acid and smooth like milk
All in one glass
And when you have no thoughts
Ask questions
And when you feel the pain
Stay present and consider humanity
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, I hope you like this slice of Early History presented
below in simple verse. Please do read the short notes at the end, before giving your comments. Thanks, - Raj
ARCHIMEDES : THE PIONEERING
STREAKER OF HISTORY!
There lived in the Third Century BC, in the Sicilian
town of Syracuse, then a Greek colony,
A Greek mathematician named Archimedes.
He was tasked by King Hiero of his town,
To find the purity of gold in his crown;
Suspicious of the goldsmith having mixed
some material of inferior kind,
Which the King wanted Archimedes to find!
So, Archimedes lost in thought one day,
Entered the public bath on his way!
And as his body began to get submerged,
He happened to notice perchance,
Water spilling over from the tub!
The answer suddenly flashed across his
mind,
And he jumped up leaving everything
behind,
Wearing only his birthday suit,
Running through the street of Syracuse,
Exclaiming - “Eureka! Eureka!”
(I have found it! I have found it!)
Perhaps to become the first known streaker
of History!
While establishing the Principles of Buoyancy!
@ (see notes)
Archimedes, son of the astronomer Pheidias,
studied at the great Alexandrian city,
Remembered even to this day for his many
pioneering works, -
In Hydrostatics, Mechanics, and Geometry.
With his ingenious mechanical discoveries,
He held the great Roman galleys of Marcellus
at bay,
For more than three years, as Plutarch the
Roman Historian says! + (see notes)
Later one day, while lost in deep thought,
When some intricate problem of geometry
he was trying to resolve,
Refused to hear Marcellus' bidding,
To be slain by the Roman soldiers who had
come to fetch him!
O those Romans, with lesser brains and more
brawn!
And some hundred and thirty years after
his death in 75 BC,
Cicero, then the Roman Governor of Sicily,
Found the tomb of great Archimedes, near the
Agrigentine Gate, over grown with bushes and
thorns;
Where he lay buried in the scented dust of History!
- Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
NOTES:
@ Principle of Buoyancy = any floating object displaces its own
weight of fluid. So weight displaced by a crown of pure gold and
the one already made could be compared to find the truth!
+ Archimedes designed large stone throwers, & crossbows, and
also grappling hooks using large cranes to grab Roman ships and
capsize them!
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 9:04 AM UTC
From the starting point in Poland
To the hedgerows of France
High above the English countryside
to the depths of the Atlantic
In the sand-ridden dunes of Egypt, Libya and Tunisia
to the foothills and mountains of Sicily and Italy
From the Pacific to Asia minor
we fought
Storming the beaches of Normandy
to taking back France
From Guadalcanal to Okinawa
from Burma to China
We fought
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man ! My man !
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan ! Io Pan .
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady !
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and styrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white *** come over the sea
To me, to me,
Coem with Apollo in bridal dress
(Spheperdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,
In the moon, of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of of the amber fount !
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantoness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain -come over the sea,
(Io Pan ! Io Pan !)
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man ! my man !
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill !
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring !
Come with flute and come with pipe !
Am I not ripe ?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion, and sharp as an asp-
Come, O come !
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
****** the sword through the galling fetter,
All devourer, all begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye
And the token ***** of thorny thigh
And the word of madness and mystery,
O pan ! Io Pan !
Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Pan Pan ! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,
O Pan ! Io Pan !
Io pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Iam awake
In the grip of the snake.
The eagle slashes with beak and claw;
The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan ! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan ! Io Pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Pan !
I am thy mate, I am thy man,
Goat of thy flock, I am gold , I am god,
Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.
With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks
Through solstice stubborn to equinox.
And I rave; and I **** and I rip and I rend
Everlasting, world without end.
Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man,
In the might of Pan.
Io Pan ! Io Pan Pan ! Pan ! Io Pan !
3.2k
*The sunny sorcery
Over silly silverbeets in Sicily,
And You.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
994
Partake as doth the Bee,
Abstemiously.
The Rose is an Estate—
In Sicily.
2.2k
What would you do for an apple?
GIVE AN ORANGE...
If Lemonade was not too sour or too sweet I would replace my blood with lemonade. Are tomatoes really fruits but why are they cooked? Do we cook mango pickle? Would you prefer barbecued bananas?
BUY A GREEN WORM...
That little bridge on the pond with the rubber duckies next to the tree that sheds copper coins really does lead to another land. A land of shiny little boxes. I like the rustling hope of wrapping paper. Maybe if we all wrapped ourselves we wouldn’t be so cynical anymore.
**** EVE...
Swinging on tree branches naked is rather lovely. One gets scratched and itchy indeed, but the thrill is intoxicating. Moreover, there’s a whole pitcher of lager on the snow covered pine tree waiting for us **** little monkeys.
PS: Remember when money was for play and could be torn & eaten and ****** upon?
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 9:23 PM UTC
Jamming jellyfish
Top-Me
((Giddy App Seahorse))
The horseradish on
my lap______
The jolly Jelly
Gefilte Fish
Little help from my friends
How we click the laptop
One dent to Deceive me
The Rock and Rolling
Stomach his smoke went
Like *** Cheese)
he leaves me
The spicy tongue map
Z-Top Zany Chilli Pepper____
your # tap dance tap
Italian top of
the cheese designer skirt
The outskirts of Naples
Her sweet dimples, please
The Islands of Sicily
So many Cheese forms
Terms of Endearment
Mama Mia Murano-Positano
Her lips of Romano Cheese
(To Top Me) Challenge me
Cheese doesn't mix
with cappuccino,
she's the Capri
Ala Denti
Cheese Wiz chair
Mediterranean Wines
Bear men doing low
sips of time
the grisly(Z) pour
The car smelled like
Flight (Top Me) Swiss air
Meet Dominique
How it went La Cirque
Anti Christ Devil Red-bed
cheese mystique
SOS to their notes
PS the junk car in
Midas the makeover
Make-up artist counter
Clinique
I could paint over your hood
Creamy mind put at ease
He's so displeased
New castle disease
Mingling social disease
She's so infectious
ZZ- Top me rock me
Eyes bloodshot you got me
And nevertheless
With twelve and V
V- Vamps tramps
and 14 karats
The French Lieutenant
Mistress Brie with heavy
bite teeth like garnets
Cher turning back time
The burlesque striptease
Come back little Sheba
Z Top Queen of Sheba
I know it's coming soon____?
All Tight claustrophobic
The tight squeeze
Him speaking
Mandarin Oranges
The British Colony
Unique Chinese languages
Her hills, San Francisco
Jack Nicholson
Comedy of China town
The American Women
Smile cheese at the Disco
The food Cantonese
style
Z muscles Hercules
Joan Rivers
Fashion Police
The Cheese of Portuguese
Its the meat market
With his nifty thrifty Neice
All Socrates
(Gromet and Cheese)
Those Brooklyn
workers
The Falcon Matese____*
More cheese Z-Top
Who could ever top
The string cheese
Silken strings became
to rest, I rest my cheese
What cheese fascinates you
Tell me?
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
originally it reads as:
**** i am drunk: do sudoku drunk!
what a ******
x x x x x x x x x
x 7 6 x 5 9 3 x x
x x 8 x 7 x x 1 x
x x 2 x 1 x x 5 x
x x x 3 x 7 1 2 x
1 6 9 x 2 x x x x
x x x 4 x 1 7 8 x
9 4 x 7 x x x 6 x
x 5 x 6 x x x x x
now i really want to learn something,
but i don't seem to want to...
the end result?
3 1 5 8 4 6 9 7 2
2 7 6 1 5 9 3 4 8
4 9 8 2 7 3 5 1 6
7 3 2 9 1 8 6 5 4
5 8 4 3 6 7 1 2 9
1 6 9 5 2 4 8 3 7
6 2 3 4 9 1 7 8 5
9 4 1 7 8 5 2 6 3
8 5 7 6 3 2 4 9 1...
bu there's a narrative to mind...
the ) game,
half an hour's worth of game after inserting
the first six -
(a
b) matrixes -
the theta-phi debate crosswords and blind-spots -
but the narrative goes like this:
a. 7 1
1 5 )
x 7 1 2
"zooming in with a nibbled into 6",
b. 5 | 5
7
1
x
x 2 x
x
x
x
c. 2nd 5
6 x x 4 x 1 7 8 x (5)
d. 1st 5
5 x x 4 x 1 7 8 x
9 4 x 7 x x x 6 x
x 5 x 6 x x x x x
e. x x x x x 2 x x x
x 7 6 | x x x | 9 4 x
x x 8 1 6 9 x 5 x
f. x x x
x 5 9
x 7 x
x 1 x x 5 x
3 x 7
5 2 x
4 x 1
7 x 5 7 8 5
6 x x
(more than or haczyk, or háček
a hook: in saying: oi! geezer!
traffic that 'un!
but still more than or less
than in Copernican lingua?
dunno... well: that's two smokin' barrels' worth
of info for the inauguration -
'cos' pretty face over 'ere was half a wit's know-churn
off a ***** 'now what i mean?'
they necessarily say it in sprechen glutton Danzig
so you look smart, and not like some artful dodgy
podger:
n'es pas? twinkle tweezer ****
oi right and that ****** off came with the touch
of a knuckle: 'cos' i wasn't preaching trigonometry:
nor was i ******* kidding.
down the east end they call us Vlad-sodden
impaler imperialistic -
after the little debacle we 'av a laugh and drink
a bottle of *****
then we do the rickety chance of engaging in
baptismal fire with the Jamaicans -
or so you know. *well, wouldn't you believe it,
look how far being called vermin gets ya!*
all the way to Buckingham Palace me says!
and some dared to say: ransack Sicily.
blah ha ha... your's a tongue on the leash!
g. x - 4? / 3?
5
7
1
x - 4?
2
x
x
x
h. 6 2 x 4 x 1 7 8 5
6 2 x 4 9 1 7 8 5
6 2 3 4 9 1 7 8 5
(breakthrough point!)
i. 7
x
1
5
2
x
j. x 7 6 1 5 9 3 x x
k. 7 l. 7 m. 7
x x 4
1 1 1
5 5 5
2 2 2
x 3 3
8 8 8
6 6 6
9 9 9
n. 6 2 3 4 9 1 7 8 5
9 4 x 7 8 5 x 6 x
x 5 x 6 x x x 1 x
o. 6 2 3
9 4 x
8 5 x
p. 6 2 3 4
9 4 1 | 7
8 5 7 6
the 1st square: 6 2 3
9 4 1
8 5 7.
2nd square:
x x
3 x
x x
x x
1 x
x x
7 5
9 4 1
2 6 3
7 8 5;
q. square no. 2 anti linear:
4 9 1 4 9 1
7 8 5 : / v. 7 8 5
6 x x 6
ergo
4 9 1
7 8 5
6 3 2
3rd square:
7 8 5 7 8 5
2 6 3 | 2 6 3
x 9 x x 9 1....
subsequently: 8 5 7 6 3 2 4 9 1
hence: 1 6 9 5 2 x x 3 7
": 1 6 9 5 2 4 8 3 7
": 2 7 6 1 5 9 3 4 8
(interlude):
4 x 8 x 7 x x x(?)
r. x s. 7 3 2
2 x x x
4 1 6 9: 3
7 2
x 4
1 7
6 5
9 1
8 6
9
8
t. 1 then: 1
7 7
x 9
3 3
x 8
6 6
2 2
4 4
5 5
then 7 3 2
5 8 4
1 6 9 then 5 8 4 3 6 7 1 2 9
then 4 2
5 9
7 8
1 3
6
u. 7 3 2 x 1 x x 5 4
then
6 5 4 9 1 8
1 2 9 | 3 6 7
8 3 7 5 2 4
then
6
9
3
8 8 4 6
7 1 5 9
4 2 7 3
1
5
2
v. then 3 1 x 8 4 6 x 7 2
then 3 1 5 8 4 6 9 7 2 0
then the crescendo:
9 7 2
3 4 8
5 1 6 !
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
I've been to so many places,
and you've been to so many places.
I met this sailor at a port,
in Portland,
still young, still smiling.
He had a girl back home
in Italy, Sicily.
And like a hot day's breeze,
his smile greeted me.
I met this homeless woman,
with two kids,
walking in the streets
of Tokyo,
with a man somewhere
in the near future,
she hoped.
I told her
I hoped too,
and I gave her some spare change.
Maybe you've been to Portland.
And maybe you've been to Tokyo.
Maybe we've met the same people.
Maybe you made them happy,
and I met people who
were those people
because of you.
Maybe
We already know each other,
and you've already made me happy,
like I know you will.
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 1:21 AM UTC
I will not see your eyes in the lights of Paris
I won't remember your laugh when I'm wandering Dublin
The streets of Amsterdam won't conjure up memories of our Chicago
Summer in Sicily isn't going to remind me of us at the beach,
happy, warm, in love.
But baby don't you think for a minute that I'm going to forget you
You were my first adventure.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
My favorite gangster of them all was Charles Salvatore Lucky Luciano from Sicily
He was also a philosopher...
"Never do anything to attract attention to yourself!"
Very wise indeed if your break this law you become unlucky...
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
Bring about a second war,
or pack up - and go home.
We can't accept apologies
from Sicily or Rome.
We can't impart cartography
to mayors without maps.
And no one wades the rivers here,
and water fills the cracks.
And water, liquid power naps,
repels us at the coast,
But draws us in at pipeline ends
and haunts us like Dad's ghost.
I died sometime, the future came,
and everybody smirked
and asked me, while we waited
for my casket, if it hurt.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
With words, with countenance, and with manners
I shall build an excellent panoply;
and in this way I shall face evil men
without having any fear or weakness.
They will want to harm me. But of those
who approach me none will know
where my wounds are, my vulnerable parts,
under all the lies that will cover me. --
Boastful words of Aemilianus Monae.
Did he ever build this panoply?
In any case, he did not wear it much.
He died in Sicily, at the age of twenty-seven.
1.5k
Six a.m. and the morning leans
To kiss the night;
The streets are full of stars
And sleepwalking business suits
The citrus woman
With peroxide blonde hair
And peroxide blonde fingers
If she spoke I imagine it would sound
Like lemon trees and smoke
Her cigarette burns holes in the sky
But when she passes me by
She smells like the Boots Cosmetics Isle
She paints the yellowed-ivory
Of her finger-claws
With crystallised orange
To cover the nicotine stains
And maybe I think I recognise
My lemonade shampoo
And tangerine hand wash
Like a setting sun over Sicily
The beer can boy
With stuffed up hair
And a stuffed up liver
He’s grey like a November playground
Once all the children have grown
And he’s hole-punched right through
I might think he was heart-broken
And trying to see how many other lost souls
The bottoms of bottles hold
If he wasn’t here every morning
Lolling down the pavement
Like a spring stretched too far
Asking for a paper
That I’m not allowed to give
And trying to drown himself
In the pooled rain under the streetlights
The coat-and-cardie bundle
With wind-swept hair
And wind-swept grimace
Like a tornado tore up
The geography of her personality
And left it with just a bike and a death wish
And those features heaped together
Between chimney-tops and table tops
For consolation
Her feet on the pedals while her hair throttles
Because she’s unlit
Unseen, unprotected
And she rides like this morning is the last
As if she knows that skulls
Crack like eggshells sometimes
And handlebars are sometimes not in front of you.
If my Dad was here he’d see
A smoker
A drunk
A dangerous cyclist
But I see lemon zest and love hearts and black liquorish
After all I’m at home
Among these mistakes
That the morning hours make
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
I left a part of me along the cobble streets of Sicily.
Somewhere between the night clubs and the beaches I fell in love.
It was all at once, this uncanny emotion welled deep inside of me.
the sun left kisses on my skin by day
kisses on my cheeks by beautiful people at night.
my heart had never felt so light.
I left pieces of me through Italy
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
A vintner of aged leaves in the wine-press of the sun,
Thin-skinned like the lucent grapes from the vine-runs
Of the island trellises and teal-cordoned waves, lowest slung
Fruit-laden bough of sky, Sicily, whose ateliers of rolled cigarettes
And uprolled sleeves like tides tease smoke into studio paints,
The black apple wine of storm made into mouthfuls of pulp rain,
Before the sunrise is gathered again in fishing nets and crab pots,
The coastal towns with their salted roofs of pied clay and pigeons
Along the lava stone streets, and night from the chanteuse of Egypt,
Singing her coral to heron, as when her bird-like barefooted slaves
Left tracks across Old Kingdom wastes, so this dreaming old man
Leaves his wrinkles to these grapes and across the sand-island pillow,
Asleep with his fathers, hay-hauling peasants of wandering darkness.
May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 8:02 PM UTC
I wake up.
New York.
It’s cold enough to where my body succumbs to the cool sensation sweeping it externally, but not too bitter to where I begin internal frostbite. One man tells me to go back to bed, it’s too early. I slowly, silently, drift off into a doze.
I wake up.
Havana, Cuba.
It is now summer. I see a boy. He looks confused. I offer him help. Without a word he turns around and scurries off down the alley into a small wooden shack, like a mouse, assuming everyone is the sinister cat that is out to feast upon his flesh, running into his safe haven, his hole in the wall. I go back to bed.
I wake up.
Sicily, Italy.
It is now spring. One bird catches my attention. A dove, flying through the channels, under the bridges, over the buildings. It swoops through almost all of Sicily, and then hovers over the calm waters of the Mediterranean Sea as it makes its great escape, the wind scraping up against its delicate white feathers, applying pressure to its already soaring wings. The dove heads back for land, to its nest. It hits a tree. I go back to bed.
I wake up.
Melbourne, Australia.
It is now autumn. I see one woman. She tells me her name, although I could not make it out with such a rich, thick accent. But, what are names? They aren’t identity. You strip someone of a name and they are still unique. It’s not the name that defines a person, it’s what they make of it. Another woman catches my eye. She doesn’t tell me her name, but instead shows me around town. We begin to talk when all of a sudden I drift off into a doze.
I wake up.
New York.
It is winter. It’s cold enough to where my body succumbs to the cool sensation sweeping it externally, but not too bitter to where I begin to develop internal frostbite. One woman informs me that I’m late for work. I notice an accent. I ask her where she’s from. She replies,
“Melbourne, Australia.”
Jul 8, 2011
Jul 8, 2011 at 12:31 PM UTC
i
What is it exactly that we celebrate today?
An oncoming rain or the passage of Time?
ii
Under his feet, the water in the sea
Burned with a cold, liquid flame,
Cold & silver - a transmutation of fire
Fuelled by his mother's tear
In which he sailed to Sicily.
iii
Bayreuth looked like a frozen Sahara,
With the local colors, and a pale-blue train
He had taken in Rome, at the "Stazioni Termini."
vi
What is it exactly that he should celebrate today?
The Passing of August, or the Advent of the Frost
In the Season of Eternity?
© LazharBouazzi, August 30, 2017
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 5:58 PM UTC