Month: November 2025

Swamped

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excerpt

boys their usual beers, while Patricia wanted grapefruit juice and
Alex had a coke. Appetizers were ordered. Eteo as usual had the mussels
his friend George cooked in wine sauce, George’s specialty and
Eteo’s favorite appetizer. He suggested Ariana try them and she loved
them so much he ordered another plate, which they both relished to
the last mussel and the last drop of sauce. Soon their main meals arrived,
and they all enjoyed them too. The night went by nicely. Eteo
oen caught Logan’s eyes on Ariana, and he noticed too that Logan
was talking to her so much that his own date was beginning to feel
lonely. He subtly made Logan aware of this and soon the atmosphere
was balanced again.
Their mood was very jolly and at one point George the cook
came out and greeted them. Eteo introduced Ariana to his old friend
and noticed that George gave her a couple of glances of admiration,
reminding Eteo that soon everyone in the local Greek community
would know about the relationship, since George would most likely
mention it to his wife Stefania, who would go out of her way to pass
it on to all the Greek women she knew, including Eteo’s ex-wife who
was still a good friend of Stefania. Eteo imagined the expression on
his ex-wife’s face when she found out and a devious smile spread over
his own face. Suddenly he leaned over and kissed Ariana on the lips.
The others smiled but said nothing, and Ariana’s cheeks reddened,
though she loved his spontaneity.
At the end of the evening, Logan took the boys home and then
Patricia to Coquitlam, where she lived with her parents, while Eteo
and Ariana went for a ride to Horseshoe Bay. There he drove to
Whytecliff Park and parked. They kissed for a while and then, excited,
moved to the back seat, equally hungry for one another. It was the
first time she had climbed on top of him and ridden her sensuality
to the peak of pleasure, her low moaning driving Eteo even crazier
for her body than ever. As they made love, it seemed like all the celestial
bodies and constellations paired off in the firmament and sang
erotic cadences as each heavenly lover coupled with their mate:
Perseus with his Andromeda, Uranus with his Gaia, Zeus and Hera,
Rhea and Kronos. All played out their erotic games just as Eteo and
Ariana did in a car by the side of the road in Whytecliff Park.

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

Twelve Narratives of the Gypsy

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We’re the immortal and uncivilized
the cities are dens of serpents
and refuges of all the cowards
of fighting and self-defeat, dens of
wolves, dogs, sheep and shepherds
wail and wail again at their homeland!
Fences are always our enemies
when they enclose the world
wild verdure and nettles sprout
behind them, misery in their shade;
the traitor’s conniving wilts all
the mindful ideals and shuts all
nightingales of the heart.
The sin always dwells like a scorpion
inside of them, never the brave lion;
the fence marks the evil man and
the good is but a baby in opium;
work the earth again in your gallows
rejuvenate its good and sins
pounding it with your hammer on the anvil;
Pass over fences, give to your
mules wings and ride them like witches
the world is whole and endless
where the lands end the seas begin.
From atop of each mountain that
you’ll climb you’ll gaze at other
higher mountain peak, a
different, mind boggling world
and when you’ll reach the highest
of the highest peaks you’ll still
understand that you live under
the same stars.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D3LP7NW6

Hours of the Stars

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E
The seasons and the people’s passing
leader of music and gate keeper
was created in the crucible of wailing
with the caressing of the Evening Star
with precious tears and
wreaths of the sun that vanished
before dusk
with bits of joy gleaming
in the sunken wrath of people
oh, whispers talkative, talkative
songs of girls that touched
the flutter of Helicon wings
oh, the face won over
the downpour of eternity
F
After the death of authority
we waited for the king’s celebrations
messengers of the lost war and
the orders of the slaughtered
on these sunken mountains
we waited for the vow of youth forgotten
along with the adventure of the roads
we carry the light and the spade
of the eighth day
entrusted in us
by the bitterness of God.
With the silence of memory
that consumes us
wrapped like an ivy over our bodies
with the music of love
spent along the bands of stench
with the full of holes prayer
of the Esfigmeni monks
G
The deeds of the eighth day
are thrown into a stone water well
all around them: thorns and poison
and the skin of the tree snake.
They don’t yell because
they are archetypes
of thunder and thunderbolts.
When thunderbolts strike
subterranean roots
onto the virginal mirrors of silence
matches are stricken by the fingers of God.
Small birds with ready wings
flying to the breath of the seventh space
become invisible
not consumed
in their defeated castles
that on the day of echoes
they render useless
the formidable trumpets

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763408

Medusa

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Hades
My mind clings to the love song I wanted to sing for you, opposite the deadly rhapsody sung to you by Hades, foggy and indiscernible memory before He took you away, my beloved, my heaven, my constantly heartfelt euphoria, I miss you
—Don’t forget to pick up the garbage can with both arms: it’s heavy for your ailing heart
Hades lurked behind the old oak we passed on our last walk through the glen, where I’m now stranded in the dark forest where nymphs rarely appear
—Don’t forget to buy me a box of serviettes when you go to the drugstore.
Absurd, that I feel like singing a love song for you and the phone rings and takes me away from my thoughts as if to bring me good news: I’m alive, I can still love you forever, better than the absurdity of serenading the phone receiver as if it makes my loneliness go away
—Which cereal did you buy this time? You know I like chocolate Cheerios.
Yet during the purple twilight, I mesmerize my mind with the absurd thought of peace, singing a love song to an unknown listener while the missiles keep falling on bald heads and corpses of soldiers, and you’re gone forever
—Why don’t we go on a cruise next month? We have the time, don’t we?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763769

Nikos Engonopoulos – Poems

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Memento of Constantinople
on the marble quay of the palace,
they have placed, in an almost straight line,
piles of wood
barges brought from distant
shore forests
and other piles from thin
lissome trunks like a Kore’s body
and other piles
of gigantic, huge
trees
it constantly rains and the persistent rain
drenches the graceless woods
and the marble of the quay gleam
as the water washes them repeatedly
and the sky is heavy and black,
one wonders if anyone knows what time it is,
there is no hope for any of that
(The opposite shore has vanished
as if it never existed)
and the sea is moody and wild
as if the endless raindrops that hit it
have awakened a strong anger inside it
that it can hardly hold back
no one else is in this deserted place
other than I, the same one, and
I stand with my drenched red hair
glued onto my forehead
the travails of love have brought me here
to the tender seashore
and my mind always flies to a beautiful
proud magnolia
that thrives and blooms
in this place

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

Tasos Livaditis – Selected Poems

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AND THERE were some days when we lost heart when some
appeared coming our way from afar; what news did
they bring to us we asked?
Leave us in our misfortune, why do we want these deeds,
we, the defeated since the ancient days as the sundown
came though they never asked for our approval. Thus in order
to survive a clear forehead was enough
and we spoke but a little until night fell.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087367R7C

Impulses

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Nuance
Behind unfurled flags
and the horizon wall we searched
by borders and crests
deciphering lost codes
plumbed caverns just below
the sideburns of the fat general
beyond prison barbwire fences
and straitjacket ideals
we took arms for an image
but didn’t find one god
the general polished his stars
pronouncing God extinct
and people reveled in the square
foreseeing his verdict

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073565

The Unquiet Land

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excerpt

Finn MacLir dragged his feet back into the dining room after seeing his guests off into the night. He paused in the doorway, raised his outspread hands to his face, and drew them down over his cheeks. “Padraig, I’m tired.”
He was a tall man, over six feet in height. His broad, beefy shoulders were more rounded now, his waist wider than in his younger days. As Padraig remembered him, he had always been a burly, muscular man, full of energy and vitality. Now, at seventy-five years of age, that energy and that vitality had begun to ebb away.
He approached the table unsteadily, lifted the wine decanter and tipped it to his glass. But only a drop or two dribbled out.
“So much for that,” he said. He thumped the decanter down again on the table, and a few knives and forks jumped on their plates. Finn turned to face his remaining guest.
“These are troubled times to be returning to Ireland, Padraig.”
“When are there not troubled times in Ireland?” Padraig said.
“Ay, when indeed?” Finn sank into his chair with a sigh. “The last election left us in a pretty mess, didn’t it? A real shipwreck.” He paused in thought for a moment, tapping the empty wine glass with his finger. “Ay, a real shipwreck. The old ship of state, the S.S. Ireland—remember her?—she ran aground on rocks during a mutiny. A rebel crew tried to take her over. We didn’t know it then, but it seems this rebel crew, this Sinn Fein, had a lot of support on board. The passengers have since voted them into positions of command. Seventy-three of them no less, with Eamon de Valera, one of the old mutineers, escaped from the cooler and appointed captain. It could only happen in Ireland.”
Finn MacLir stared at the empty wine glass, silent, serious, disillusioned. “And half a dozen of the old crew, all that’s left of our old Irish Parliamentary party, cast adrift on a raft in very stormy waters. They’re doomed, I fear. But the situation doesn’t look too good for any of them; or even for the ship itself. They’ve renamed her the S.S. Republic but they haven’t got her off…

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

The Circle

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excerpt

EMILY IS GETTING READY for Matthew’s funeral service at Mount View
Memorial. Jennifer and Hakim should be at the house soon. Talal is there with
her, as he has been ever since Matthew’s death, and Emily appreciates that. She’s
in love with this young Iraqi man with the lilting voice and the cute smile. They
haven’t made love during these last days and she wonders how Talal feels about
that. But she is very appreciative of the time and space he has given her.
He has prepared a simple breakfast and goes upstairs to see if she is ready to eat
before they leave. It’s early morning and a good cup of coffee, at least, is in order. He
finds her out of the shower and in front of the mirror doing her eyes. He hugs her
from behind. She cuddles in his arms and lays her head back on his shoulder.
“Are you hungry, sweet Emily?”
She smiles at him in the mirror and nods yes.
“Are you hungry, sweet Talal?”
His eyes look deeply into hers in the mirror, and as he rubs her buttocks he
laughs.
“Yes, my sweet Emily, yes. However, now is time for breakfast. Let’s have a
good cup of coffee.”
She turns and hugs him tightly; she seeks his lips and kisses him passionately.
“I’m in love with you, sweet Talal, and I don’t care what tomorrow brings. I
don’t care how long this is going to last.”
“I’m in love with you, too, sweet Emily, and I know this is going to last a long
time.”
They go downstairs to the family room and he serves their coffee toasted
bread and jam. She leans closer to him and kisses him once more when Jennifer
and Hakim come in and see them kissing. Jennifer looks at Hakim, who smiles,
“So what, Jennifer? They are adults. Why are you looking at me as if they have
done something wrong?”
Talal gets up to greet them and says to Jennifer, “Your mother is a beautiful
person. Be proud of her in the same way that she’s very proud of you.”
“I know my mother,Talal. I just find myself wondering and I don’t know why.”
Emily smiles at Hakim and asks him, “What happened with the apartment?”
“Well, the deal was finalized today. The agent called earlier…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Chthonian Bodies

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Archean
Clutching on air a stony totem
godly apparition of rekindled memory
ancient stone made anew
primeval man made of lithos
frosty and elegantly crafted
systemic description of logos
in free spirited wilderness and
the sky concurs and
always returns to its first love
earth’s bosom
archean sphagnum and
delicate stimulant of life
the Inukshuk with open arms salutes
stray animal and man lost in foggy
winter land, ray of hope lit
by love of beast for beast and
relation of abstract to evident

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763424