As each day repeats itself
–
drip,
–
drip,
–
drip.
This is the longest winter of my life.
Category: Poetry
Living / Death
In darkness she walks the planes of thereafter
as death ‘round lives tender so mutedly preys
today then tomorrow draws her not closer
her presence through time shoring up in life’s bay.
A friend and a jester in shadows enveloped
she stands at my door asking with me to stay
the play of her forces draws me to greet her
for straying in blindness only time may delay.
Through pink and black leaves she outwardly beckons
and hands in cold terror belatedly folds
for both of us know she long here had treaded
leading our cycles unto the beyond.
–
In darkness we walk, praying together
her void with my tears I never did fill
and as I embrace her she weaves in all feeling
priming a heart for life’s waves never still.
outward Storm / Tempest internal
Thunders and rains,
beckons and calls
that which from the heaven could pour
and within its meaning conform.
Immersing it all,
as eternity would, set loose
free upon the world to call
and within me storms to form.
The Sun of November / Fear rooted releasing
The Sun of November
on grey seas reflecting
through solitude waving
and with it I move.
Uncertainty seething
and others sense drowning
the depths of our being
in stillness consumed.
Resistance to yielding
in virtue transforming
through darkness and greeting
an ancestry formed.
The Sun of November
through solitude waving
Fear rooted releasing
and with it I moved.
A translation of Galop (Γκάλοπ) by Lena Platonos (Λένα Πλάτωνος)
Dear reader,
I offer here a humble translation of the closing track of Lena Platonos’ iconic album ‘Galop‘. I do this to honour the feat of storytelling that many of the pieces on the album represent.
Now,
just as a little air lifted,
everyone expected these days to be cool.
At least that’s what they all said.
Even the lady at the street pavilion
made mistakes in her transactions
from the excessive heat.
And on the radio
they prepare the winter
with humour and stability,
seriousness,
galloping through
and choosing different answers.
You close your eyes.
You arrange a date.
You close your eyes
and dream of different cities.
Sparsely populated cities in the night
lacking unnecessary sounds
whose light emanates from within the people,
from the walls of the houses.
A door opens.
Someone lifts their hand
and their greeting traces the shape of a star,
mmmm,
or rather a moon.
You reciprocate.
Slowly many gather,
then even more.
They all reciprocate
and their greeting traces the shape of a moon
and as they approach one another
they are united by that same gallop
of the first rain;
by the colour of the moon in their own touch.
Yes, and further down there is a couple
that have only a moon
that they cut in two,
biting the half
and again the half,
until crumbs are left behind.
Until nothingness remains.
But they share even that nothingness
as it appears that nothing doesn’t exist.
Maybe that’s why the light emanates from them so.
The Vastness
She swims in a vastness which drifts
and within its essence caresses;
in affection of past, foregone, uncovered,
through rhythm and motion and boundless expanse.
So it becomes
(her advance of no mould)
in uncertainty covered and tension released,
as she swims through the vastness
(swallowed by it)
and her fondness softly embraces.
Stop / See / Embrace
Hop past that stone
To skip to the next
(Jump, stress, race)
Seeking forever a new one to face.
Counting the stones
To move to the next
(Hop, skip, face)
Never enough those stones that I chase.
Eyeing ahead
To look past the next
(Count, move, chase)
Blinded as ever to the path that I trace.
Stopping at one
To see my own place,
(Eye, look, trace)
Vision in stillness I start to embrace.
Standing in current
To feel my own space
(Stop, see, embrace)
Restful in knowing there’s no need to press.
Playing in turning
To grow from my base
Learning at last how the now stone to grace.
The truthful trace / patient grace
To pause from love and take one’s break,
To fret alone, alone to shake,
To think about what’s there to make
And love not so for love’s own sake.
To rest the self and feel the space,
To love but once a many face,
To see how aimless is the chase
And bring to light the truthful trace.
To trust love’s purpose and its place,
To praise its whims with patient grace,
To draw the line, then to retrace
And faith in ease and life to place.
She, the Moon on a Pond
She swims in the pond of driving desires
Deep and vast as it is.
Deep and vast as the skin and the touch
She praises and folds ’round another.
Enchanted, the moon wraps her light,
Plump and round as it is.
Plump and round as her mind, in flow,
Releases the body’s desire.
Her and the moon draw the thin string
Perilous and tender it is.
Perilous and tender as the love in the stars
That so easily never could be.
The moon on a pond, illuminates her –
Loving and gentle she is.
Loving and gentle as the line that she draws
Shimmering brightly for those who can see.
Notes From Afar 