The Unquiet Land

excerpt

…lack of ambition contrasted remarkably with that of Clifford Hamilton who had different aims on human brains. Yet when Caitlin thought about it, she could not avoid the conclusion that maybe Liam’s desire to fill young brains with learning was more worthy, if less prestigious, than Clifford Hamilton’s desire to open them up for medical probing. She admired Liam all the more for his altruism. He was indeed a true disciple of his idol, Father Padraig.
Beyond the school the pebble-dashed, two-storey rectory stood back a bit from the lane. Lamplight shone through the window of Padraig’s room upstairs; the rest of the house was in darkness. Padraig shared the rectory with Father Donagh Costello, the priest of the neighbouring parish “over the bridge” in Aughnashannagh. The pious widow, Brid O’Flaherty, lived in the same house as servant and cook to the two parish priests.
Caitlin paused outside the rectory, then passed by and climbed the rough-cut steps to the church. Aligned along the ridge, Our Lady Star of the Sea church occupied a spread of flat ground covered with the same beach-pebbles as the footpath from the road. Caitlin paused in the doorway at the west end of the church, stayed for a moment by the clarity and peace of the evening. She gazed out over the gravestones and the grass to the errant line of the cliff-top. Dark grey was the sea beyond, and blue the sky above. The blueness of the sky paled to limpid opalescence where the sun had set. No sound. No movement. Only a shiver in the short grass where the breeze blew across it. Inland the evening shadows darkened the purple hills, the green fields, the grey stone walls, the yellow flowers of spreading whins. Lights in farmhouse windows twinkled like stars. Thin twines of smoke uncoiled from cottage chimneys.
Caitlin felt a surge of joy within her. No-one knows how much I love this land, she thought.
She opened the church door with a click of the latch and closed it gently behind her. The hush of the evening out of doors deepened between the white walls and the dark, varnished roof-beams of the church. Three small windows high up along each wall admitted light by day but they were gloomy now. Below each window a picture hung. Padraig had told Caitlin their stories. Along the right-hand wall that overlooked the sea the first picture showed Jesus calling the disciples Andrew and John as they worked at their nets by the shore; the second showed Him in a crowded boat ordering the stormy waters to be calm; and the third showed Him walking upon the sea, holding an outstretched hand to Peter. Along the opposite wall the first picture was of Jesus pulling ears of corn as He walked through a field with…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Swamped

excerpt

…people in the movies revive others in these situations, so he plugs the
boy’s nose and blows into his mouth with all his might, once, twice,
and then asks Anthony to compress the chest, until after a minute or
so the boy gasps and expels water from his mouth as he comes to his
senses. Anthony and Eteocles turn him face down as he continues to
cough and spit out water, and in a few moments he is well enough to
recognize the women.
“Mom” he says quietly, looking up at one of the two women. She
sobs and embraces him.
The other woman can’t stop thanking and praising the two young
heroes. She takes a couple of figs from her bag, peals them, and gives
one to each of the boys. Eteocles and Anthony bite into the sweet
fruit and thank the woman.
As they walked back to their football game, Anthony looks at his
cousin as well as all the other boys who crowd around and ask Eteocles
where he learned to resuscitate drowning victims.
“At the movies,” Eteocles tells them, his chest swelling with pride
and happiness. He has brought someone back to life.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562976

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Ugga

one
One thousand years of darkness
one thousand years of twilight
one thousand lonely writers
weren’t enough
to hide knowledge
one thousand painters
didn’t bring a Renaissance
tens of thousands of sculptors
the ancient Hellenes too
idolized the body
and the Fourth Racism
suddenly appeared

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676370X

Introspection

Daring
The man with the thick eyeglasses and the gigantic moustache dared his creator and challenged his claim over the sickly thin body, an auspicious gift could return to its maker at any time; death never took hold of his undying soul and creative pneuma, the man sitting at the end of the dining room, of whom the other patrons of the humble pension hashed words of wonder and awe, who could have done it or other wondering phrases people say before the superhuman mind, the Übermensch of his creator, who dared challenge his maker and who reached the ultimate step of the abyss and dared it too, the man who each time the hammer struck him the echo of his unyielding strength reciprocated with a thud more deafening than the first, the man who stood upon the human greatness and made it stronger and more enduring, the man with the thick eyeglasses and the gigantic moustache sitting at the edge of the dining room and staring at the people eating or in the hallway, no need to look outside the window, his battle was always waged against his internal enemy, himself

https://draft2digital.com/book/4118210#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763777

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume II

You can’t replace the whole forest with a wooden
statuette on the table. The wind howls. The wind
is looking for us. Its steps are heard even in our
sleep,
like the steps of the soldiers in the domed hallway
of the baths
when we took off our last garment and the orphan
nakedness was left undefended;
the silent confrontation, the awkward laughter
opposite the certain one, the joyous curse and the curse
that tries to be a curse
the timid palm that still hesitates to hide —
We were like children in the shrubs of steam
we weren’t children
so ambitious, ambitious we create our Sunday cloths out
of nakedness.
But now, there’s not any confrontation with you, or him,
we’re all naked.
We have to confront this wind. Have you lost your leg,
my brother? Lean on me.
When you lean on me, I lean on the world.
We all lean on the world. The wind howls.
How beautiful we all walk together in the wind.
The sun will rise soon as we go over that mountain.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562968

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0851M9LTV

Tasos Livaditis – Selected Poems

The Blind Man With The Oil Lamp
It was dark, and I had taken the biggest decision of the century: I
would save the world! But how? Thousands of thoughts pounded
my mind when I heard footsteps; I opened the door and saw the blind
man from the opposite room holding an oil lamp, and, walking in
the hallway, he was ready to go down the stairs. “What does he need
the oil lamp for?” I ask myself when suddenly the thought came to me:
I had found the solution, “my brother,” I said to him, “God has sent you.”
And we both eagerly commenced our duty.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3751267

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763831

Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

About the Death of the Spanish Poet Federico Garcia Lorca on the 19th of August 1936 in the Ditch on Camino De La Fuente
…una accion vil y disgraciado
art and poetry don’t help us live
art and poetry help us
die
absolute disdain
fits
all noises
research
comments over comments
that often state
the unemployed vain writers
under mysterious and lewd conditions
of the execution of the fateful Lorca
by the fascists
but finally: everyone knows
that
for a long time
especially during these bad years
they make it a habit
of murdering
poets

https://draft2digital.com/book/3744799#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763734

Red in Black

Eyebrows
Time stays still on your eyelids
colorless wave lapping on the shore
chirp of the last bird
unfolds musical notes
onto my tympanums
sea waves and windless emotion
when the canvas turns bloody
like the horizon at sundown
crickets start their arias
about lovemaking under
the moon’s promises
the tired sun searches for its bed
and us two in the embrace
of the evening
try to turn our dream
into reality

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562962

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771713208

Savages and Beasts

excerpt

Despite all the atrocities the Indian children have experienced
the system couldn’t change them, couldn’t mould them to
their ways. Why these kids can’t become like the proselytizing
Anglos? What keeps them and sustains them and they remain
Indians? How these savages know how to maintain their beliefs
and way of life despite the efforts of the occupiers and proselytizing
church fathers? The only answer lies in the natural abilities of
these savages to never compromise their beliefs and rights which
is the only way they can maintain their sense of goal and purpose
in life. And so they take the hits and strikes and punishments
while they maintain their composure and their rigidity knowing
well in their hearts that what goes around comes around. Truly
this has kept them alive and strong and optimistic that one day
things might turn to their favor.
Suddenly a thought came to Anton, an epiphany one could
say: he could go and take up studies as his father would like him
to do. Yes that could be his future, a higher diploma and a new
career. A university in the East would serve well in that respect
and Mary could feel good to go with him. Yes, a new beginning.
He couldn’t wait until he asked Mary what her feelings would be
for something like that.

Marcus and Lucas got very angry upon learning about last night’s
incident and the light punishment Mr. Wilson received from
Father Jerome. George was very angry too, so was Anton, but
both Anton and George knew the law had to be abided and vigilante
solutions weren’t the best under the circumstances. So they
only hoped that the RCMP would charge the teacher and the
case would end up in a court of law where he would be sentenced
properly. However these explanations weren’t at all satisfactory
to the two Indian youths who would like to see the guilty man…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Fury of the Wind

excerpt

them in soap and water and set the table with them. She had stoked
up the fire in the range to prepare a casserole of scalloped potatoes
and warm up the pork shoulder Mrs. Thompson had cooked during
the week.
Yesterday, with the intention of making a pie, the two women
had gone out to the bushes north of the farm to pick Saskatoon
berries. But when they came to make the pastry they could not find
any lard in the house, so there would be fresh berries with sugar
and thick cream for dessert.
When Ben came in he looked surprised to see no meal laid out
on the kitchen table. But he did not wear his usual scowl when
something upset him. Taking this as a good sign – and in a moment
of coquettishness – Sarah took him by the hand and led him to the
front room. He did not withdraw from this first gesture of intimacy
they had shared. A faint smile crossed his face when he saw what
she had done with the table.
“Long time since we had a tablecloth and nice dishes in this
house,” he said.
She hoped he would change back into the suit he had worn for
the wedding but he sat down at the table in his overalls. Because she
promised herself she would not start off their married life by nagging,
she let it go. But she still wore her white dress. Removing her
apron, she tossed it over a chair and sat down across from him.
He appeared to enjoy the meal but he ate in silence, as usual. Sarah
longed to talk about the wedding ceremony, but fear of invoking
his anger towards the townspeople in general, and Mr. Andrews in
particular, made her hold her tongue. Ben had been less than complimentary
about the station agent as they drove away from the
church, saying in a loud voice, “Interfering old bastard.” Sarah had
quickly rolled up the truck window.
She tried to think of a safe topic of conversation, and finally decided
to ask about his family. “You told me your mother died three
years ago, Ben, but what about your father? When did you lose
him?”
“He died when I was seven years old. Killed in the first war.”
“Oh, how terrible for you.”
“Didn’t bother me none. I hardly knew him. All I remember is
that he was tall and skinny. He left when I was four…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530