Wheat Ears

Hephaestus
Hephaestus laughed at my demand
for a new armour as
I reverted into my inheritance
subject of a former sound
another era’s reward
I the indisputable heir
of the Aegean Sea
truly nothing else
was as abstract
as the lips of the virgin which
I kissed under the sun’s guidance
when without warning
spring arrived as pure as
the indiscreet announcement
of deeds I was destined
to accomplish:
a cross to hang
around my neck
the lone sea anemone to lean on
and catching the meaning of duty
I had to be worthy of:
sea urchins
with spikes,
rose bushes
by the main entrance of my dwelling
beloved words spoken
by lips cracked and aged like
the lemon tree I never watered
tears on my pillow which
I held tightly
in my arms hoping
to wake up like a laughter of sunshine
in the cows’ watering trough

https://draft2digital.com/book/3748127

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BKHW4B4S

Hours of the Stars

Theodicity
Down on Priam’s feet
Achilles cries
the old king also cries
dressed with Hector’s death.
At the Olympus
the immortals feast on topaz tables
with music and tambourines
teasing each other day and night.
But when dawn comes it will bring the new star
death. Both Troy
and Phthia will sink and
who cares for the undefeated castle.

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

In Turbulent Times

excerpt

‘And to an English girl,’ Caitlin added.
‘Oh it happens to the best people,’ Joe said.
‘You haven’t set your sailor’s sights on one of them flighty little Maltese chickens yet, have you, Joe?’ Michael asked with a wink.
‘What would Joe want with a Maltese chicken, Michael Carrick?’ Caitlin said.
‘Well, with Stephen bringing home an English wife, and Tom maybe landing himself a pretty, young girl from north Africa, if Joe brings one from Malta or Gibraltar or wherever, we could set up a minor League of Nations here in the village. Solve all the world’s problems.’
‘Cause more problems than solve more likely,’ said Caitlin. Then she lowered her knitting to her lap. ‘Joe, would you like a wee cup of tea? The kettle’s boiling.’
‘I would if you’re having a drop yourself. Thank you.’
‘Oh I dare say I could make room for another. Michael, reach me your mug. It’s down there by the fender.’
‘Is Nora not at home tonight, Mrs Carrick?’
Caitlin stopped on her way across the kitchen. She turned slowly to face Joe and cast a glance at Michael. Joe felt a sudden fear. He too looked at Michael, then back at Caitlin. For a moment no one spoke.
‘Nora?’ Caitlin said softly.
‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Joe blurted out.
‘Joe, didn’t you get her letter?’ Caitlin asked apprehensively.
‘The last letter I got was written a couple of months ago. The post is very uncertain. Tell me, is she all right? Why have you got that look on your face? Both of you. What’s happened?’
‘Joe,’ Michael said, ‘Nora’s married.’
‘Nora’s married? No, she can’t be. It’s not true. My mother would have told me.’ Panic wailed like a siren in Joe’s voice. ‘Say it isn’t true, Mrs Carrick.’
Before Caitlin could say, ‘Yes, Joe, I’m afraid it is,’ Joe was sobbing, his head turned away. He did not even hear Caitlin’s confirmation.
Michael rose and put an arm around the young man’s shoulder. ‘Joe, I’m very, very sorry. We both thought you knew.’
‘She wrote to you, Joe,’ Caitlin said. ‘I know she did. And it nearly broke her heart. For the life of me I couldn’t understand it.’
Joe turned to face Michael and Caitlin again. ‘I’m sorry for breaking down like that. But what a shock. My God, I was going to propose to her myself before I left again this time.’

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

Ken Kirkby

excerpt

It was years later that I actually saw the book itself. I felt such
specialness to share this history with my grandfather who was a giant
of a man, loved by many and respected by all.
According to the National Geographic magazine, (Vol. 167, No. 3,
March 1985) Dr. Robert Paul Jordan confirms that the Viking traders known
as the Rus created Russia’s “first organized state and gave their name to a
future empire.” And the story that Ken learned as a wide-eyed boy seems to
support that claim.
As his maternal grandfather told the story, and as Ken passed it on to
his own son—who, at this point, is the last of the Kirkby line—the tale of
Rurik of the Rus goes like this:
Rurik was the eldest son and he chose to become a sailor, an adventurer
and an explorer. Like the Norwegians, the Danes were Vikings—an Old
Danish word which means ‘to dip your oar’ or in our terms, ‘traveller’.
Norwegians became known as the Norse, and Danes, the Rus.
Occupants of the Scandinavian countries realised early that to split the
farms into small holdings for their sons would make the land useless. So,
in order to preserve that livelihood, only one would inherit the land and
the others had to make their fortune elsewhere. The sea was the obvious
alternative. Through dint of need, the majority of them became mariners
and shipbuilders. They were a strong and courageous people and became
the Masters of the Seas as traders and mercenaries. The majority were
literate and highly industrious.
Those who became mercenary soldiers, a reputable occupation of the
day, were known also for their ferocity. They returned from the Middle East
with the knowledge of metalworking and equipped with this expertise, they
produced exceptionally fine swords and weaponry. This proved to be a great
advantage. A fierce minority banded together to form raiding parties and
this resulted in the Viking reputation for rape, slaughter and pillage.
Much like the dream of the Arctic that drew his future and distant
relation to northern Canada, Rurik also had a powerful dream of a vast
land beyond the ice; a land shaped by three great rivers. He was determined
to sail to that land one day. Rurik was an able navigator and commander
of several ships, and eventually he and his fellow mariners set out on a
long and arduous journey that took them east and north through the Arctic

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562902

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CB8W4CG

Übermensch

Consolation
Our memory was burned in the adoration of her body.
Buttocks made of honey; we understood we couldn’t
divulge our secret preparations while we expected another
misfortune to occur. Ticking of clocks lingered between
bay and peninsula, tide that raised all our hope, little
jasmine flowers, fragrant nuptials twice experienced.
Heart beats, anticipation, until the new gathering was
announced and we run to welcome Him, the one who,
like a myth, sprouted from the roots of our ancestors.
Our enemies died of anxiety and we based all our
new joy on our enraptured premonition.
I like those with overflowing souls who forget of themselves
and everything is enclosed inside them because all together
will cause their self-destruction.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3746914

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BGFRGLVH

Arrows

excerpt

Although she had suffered terrible humiliation at the hands of
Gregorio, and possibly Baruta, there was nothing weak about her.
She was undefeated, strong. Like the jaguar, I thought, bold and
proud. Perhaps Tamanoa found her independent spirit was
unbecoming for her sex.
As she bathed, Apacuana told us more. The night before,
apparently Baruta had gone to the river looking for her in vain.
When she returned, they argued, for she had told him she was going
to get water; instead, she went to feed me. That night she had cried in
my arms because Baruta wanted to take her with him to Suruapo,
Guacaipuro’s village up in the mountains, as his woman. Apacuana
had refused and ended up telling him she did not want to marry
him, at least not yet. Baruta had reached for the macana, intending to
hammer some sense into his betrothed.
As I had guessed, Baruta had pressed Yulema into talking. She
sang like a nightingale, telling him everything except the precise
whereabouts of the cave. Instead she had led him off the track,
thereby allowing time to forewarn Apacuana. Fuming with his
inherited hatred of white men, Baruta had set off to find me, but he
had looked further east of the river.
“Will Baruta keep looking for us?” I asked.
She thought not. Guacaipurowas anticipating Paramaconi’s answer
with the greatest urgency, and so Baruta’s duty to his father would
have to take precedence. It was very important business, Apacuana
told us. Paramaconiwas being summoned to a war council in Suruapo.
The meeting would take place very soon, in a matter of days.
All the principal caciques of the region were being called upon to
unite forces in a major attack against Losada in the valley of San
Francisco.
I waded further downstream where I might discreetly disrobe
and wash my privates. I was obliged, by my race, to warn Losada,
but Apacuana had just run away from her betrothed because of me,
she had been raped by Gregorio, and I couldn’t possibly take her
back to the valley of San Francisco.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Swamped

excerpt

money we have should be placed on that … just for now though. Recommend
it to whoever you think can wait a year or so to get results.
Frankie is a patient man, but he does things right. Remember that.”
“I’ll work on that, Dad” Logan said, getting up and going back
to his desk.
As soon as his son left the office, Eteo’s phone rang. Richard
Walden was on the line and sounded excited, talking of an oil deal
he was planning to get involved in. It was a prime southern Texas location,
and a deep well with indications of plenty of reserves.
“Come over and bring what you have on it,” Eteo suggested.
Richard had not had much success with oil up to now, but Eteo was
always ready to listen if a deal sounded promising.
Half an hour later Richard walked in with a map and a letter of
intent he had already signed. Eteo glanced at the letter and saw that
Richard had agreed to contribute 20 percent of the drilling expenses
to earn ten per cent participation in one deep well.
“This all looks good, as far as I can see,” he said. “Ten percent is
a respectable piece of the well, if it’s a good one.”
“They’ve been very successful with other wells in the same area”
Richard pointed out.
“So far so good then. Just a couple of words for caution’s sake
though. Make sure before you sign the final agreement that they have
enough other participants signed up. You don’t want them using your
paper to sell the rest of the well. Second, find out who their operator
is in Texas and what he has been involved with over the last, say, five
years. I’ve come across horror stories about some of the operators
down there.”
“Don’t worry, Eteo. It’ll all be fine. I’m flying to Calgary this
weekend and meeting the brokers again on Monday morning. I expect
lots of buy-in soon.”
“That’s great, then” Eteo said, raising his coffee mug to toast the
prospect. Richard marched out with his map and a broad smile on
his face.
Eteo chuckled to himself at Richard’s optimism. He wasn’t quite
as sanguine, but he hoped the promoter would return from Calgary
with some good news. Then he turned his attention to Golden Veins.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562976

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

The Incidentals

Knife
In the talons of fear, all his life,
a hell, a schism into which he hid
his pride, an apostate in the rocky
face of normality he promised to
protect his body from darkness
his imagination always created
his psyche constantly on alert when
fearful of all others he raised
the knife to defend himself from
the innocence of his victim in
the body of who the knife dived
proving the short truth that only
evil can control a man, only the blood
of innocent can justify the unnatural
existence of the killer on earth
he too settled on what his foul mind
led him to spend his life
imagining that he was human.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3745812

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763637

The Unquiet Land

excerpt

“That ideal has died, Padraig. The light has gone out. It goes out for many of us, I’m afraid. Because it’s only an idea, not a reality. The Greeks first had the idea when civilization was young. Didn’t they believe in the human community as commonweal? Didn’t they tell us we were all free equals linked by a shared concern for the common good? Come on, Padraig, you know more about these things than I do.”
Padraig swallowed a mouthful of wine and thought for a moment. He wondered if he really did know more about these things than Finn. “You mustn’t overlook the Christian component of your humanitas, Finn: humanity as a moral ideal rather than a biological fact. From Christianity, not from Greece, comes that conviction you mentioned that human life has value. Man was created in God’s own image and was precious enough in the sight of God for God Himself to become man. This is what gives human life its value, Finn, and human life must be protected, must be saved at all cost and returned to God transmuted into spirit, pure and undefiled.”
“Another ideal.”
“Another aspect of the same ideal.”
“But equally unrealistic.” Finn leaned forward and held Padraig in the grip of his eyes as the Ancient Mariner held the wedding guest. “You are still young. The torch you hold aloft to light your way through life still burns with the fierce brightness that youth demands. You are just starting out. But as your journey proceeds and the day wears on, the idealism that fuels your torch burns lower. The light grows dimmer, Padraig, till you no longer see your way with clarity. And you stumble and fall. And every time you stumble or fall you spill some of the fuel you still have burning. And the light grows even dimmer. Long before midnight it’s all gone. And you can’t see your way anymore. You look back for some idea of where you were heading, and of course it’s all darkness there too. The light is gone. The darkness reveals the idealism for what it was: a figment of the human imagination, a fiction born of the unique human capacity for creative thought and nourished by the unique human need to believe.”
“It’s too pessimistic, Finn,” Padraig argued. “The light that guides us really burns; it really exists. You can keep it burning brightly right to the end if you have faith. Faith is the fuel, Finn. Pick up your torch again and find the faith to relight it and keep it burning. It will show you freedom, truth, justice, goodness. It will show you love. It will show you God.”
Finn smiled. “As I said, Padraig, you are young. You have a fire in your head and in your belly. I am old. My head is cool, and my belly …

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

Kariotakis-Polydouri, The Tragic Love Story

My Verses
Verses are mine, my blood, friends
they speak words and they become pieces
of my heart that I give away
like tears from my eyes which I gift you.
They reach you like saddened smiles
since I narrate my life with them
I dress them with the sun of day
to keep them like belts when I’m dead.
My verses oversee sky and earth
yet they question what is still missing
and they’re bored withering like
sons who met their mother-sorrow.
The laughter of the smoothest tune
the passion of the flute I gift you
for them I’ve become the ruler
who has lost the love of his people.
There they flow and they fade
never to stop yet slowly they cry out:
turn your glance elsewhere, oh mortal
bring your ship, oh forgetfulness,
that they’ll sail on it.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763459