The Stork

The Stork


The ship extended huge, outside the dew,

his past, he thought, conducted on her track,

across the board, the skyline folded dark,

- a stork he was or member of the crew?


Thus, curiously stood upon the moors,

an epitome of time to e'er rejoice,

but stern, the sea-waves' hum repressed his voice,

or was the dusk that realness allures?


Upon the moors he stood, irresolute,

side-gazing for the sunken to discern

meanwhile the seamen deftness and concern

applied the coloring of nightly soot.


The dusk abraded, thus, the ship's details;

all shapes in numbness stood; without a word

the nighttime, condescending, linked the bird

with time's perseverance, head-ropes and brails.


The boats, directed randomly to trip,

loose wooden cradle-coffins in the bay,

surreal, formed a definite array,

where timely margins, undulating, reap.


(Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,

for spotless angel forms to fly in blue,

the stork recalls the one-time rendezvous,

- this nightly ship, shall take his soul to fares.


Perchance they fled to skies - two passing glows

that cut through distances, in ardent Spring

a song for wanderers, harmonic link,

- pure emeralds the shoreline noon bestows.) 


What foolishness of storks invites the ship,

our lives to marry on the silent quays

meanwhile four smoking ebon funnels praise

our wraiths' long flight on everlasting trip?

Elegant Giraffes

Elegant Giraffes

He wondered if his verse was made for mules
and chickens cackling their jazzy tales;
composing dull sonnets was chased by bulls,
by elegant giraffes and crazy snails.

Amid the donkeys, in his country cot,
while gulping spirits the pig-farmer writes;
his scrawl becomes a cultivated naught
and straight he quaffs one more for his insights.

The detrimental muse of his confused
absconding inspiration, though, evades
poetics so much alcohol-abused
and drinking up the Absinth liquor, fades.

The prompting advent of a healthy burp
made pigs and chickens to comment 'superb'!

© 06-27-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(English sonnet, Iambic pentameter)

The lady of the lake

The lady of the lake

The lady of the lake on the water glides;
fair Guinevere, the bride of Queen Ygraine
departs to her beloved King Arthur's terre.

Her kinship with the distant Lord's soul guides
the boat of ebon and bequeathal bane,
his sovereign wraith and her eternal prayer.

© Georgios Venetopoulos 11-01-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Sestet - Iambic pentameter)

Abbey

Abbey

Amid the woods and snow he saw her form,
predestined oracle he sensed this was,
her recollected glance, was lone in storm,
outside the chapel she became first cause.

Lit were the chandelier's ocra chandelles,
his heartbeat thrummed an airy rhythmic spell,
the forest snowstorm reeled - shaped ghostly belles
invited him beneath the ringing knell.

Their Angel's bliss, his soul received in flames,
adept and kind the whisper of her voice,
'- Forgiveness calms those who indulge in blames;
devoutness is the prelude of free choice.'

Outside he stepped beneath the Abbey's knell:
His voice dispersed above the snow and mass,
in cold embraced the iron wrought of bells,
- as waxen light passed through the chapel's glass.

His mind and woods enjoined in forceful prayer,
spells sacrosanct and numinous instilled,
in abstinence the sanctified abbe,
abandoned Convent life to years and thrills.

Escaped then he, to meet the woods in dark,
amidst their sovereign heights he was her groom,
continuum of time and space to arc,
his childhood's wraith became in mists and tomb.

© G. Venetopoulos 01-04-2012, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)

Cherokee

Cherokee

(Tall Warrior of Tanasi)

White smoke ascends above the distant hearths

the softness of the cold inside connotes;

while snow continues spreading on the earth,

his spotted chestnut snorts, and vapor floats.

Concerned, the stalwart, stares above the land

where snow-flakes in the winter gust rotate

the herds of buffalo were forced to strand-

-and massive hunting made them relocate.

The Ag'tanahi-Anisgaya words fly

with crows' invisible fast wings and stray,

they guide his solemn spirit to reply

to calls, the sovereign woods and night convey.

The Warrior of Tanasi harks the sough,

the trees conduct to him along the slope,

what precognitions in the ethers strew,

who has the wisdom will translate their trope.

The winds transmit the ancestors' same song

to the Tanasi of the Cherokee, Tall soul,

inside the woods, they dance with snow along

repetitive crows winging and the skies' call.

Inside the night he drifts along with death's fare

where sacrifice redeems itself with pride

The Ancient Spirit shall bestow his care,

for the Tanasi tribe, he will provide.

® G.V. 09-03-2011, All rights reserved

(Ιαμβικός πεντάμετρος)

Tug

Tug

The fog reminded him of the winter's edge
how faster can the nightly riding be?
He felt the overthrow and painful sledge,
- the asphalt hit the rider departee.

The roar was heard amid the falling snow
the bike capsized - and hard he fell to slug
across the never reached horizons' glow
received her bridal kiss - the asphalt's tug.

He danced with her beneath the nimbus cloud
- enjoining the magnificence of waltz;
denoted valor granted fore, avowed,
ambrosial her remembrance was, and false.

Before time she became his fate in mists,
conceived their airy dance, surpassed treetops
a daughter of the woods, but never kissed
on fares unvisited, where searching stops.

Among the nimbus, celebrating Hall,
Collegiate was the fare's inviting dance,
trajectory redemptive, death-ride toll,
- was thoughtful neath the rainy tears, her glance.

So standing tall, amid the nightly shades,
recalled the margins that he raced upon,
three hundred for Persephone of Hades
to be his wed on skyline's denouement.

The bullocky V-engine echoes thence
amid the basalt rocks, atop the brae,
when riders pass across and fog is dense
upon his street-bike-fighter see him sway.

Georgios A.V.

Nesreen

Nesreen

The tempting, dancing Nymph performs her chore,
unfolds in air, resplendently and splays
datura flow in mind her moves implore,
her vision passed and wraith on thoughts, she stays.

Upon her altar sacrificial tolls,
her face, her scent, will challenge and indulge,
manipulates and in half light, enthralls,
ethereal to conquer and divulge.

Instinctive ancient dance, the crowd accourts,
she flows in veins, red aconite domain,
no fate will be as sweet - but one she thwarts -
as thousand lengths to feel of brunette mane.

And triumphant aggresses with applause,
(blade-splendid in her bedleh and shalwars) ,
unfolds her wings, a desert hawk that claws,
betrayed male minds with apathy ignores.

She dances, and her jingling cymbals rings
incursion of a deathly whiff and rye;
monotonous the Dervish siege she sings
for victims of her charm, eager to die.

G. V. // Iambic pentameter

Black Crayon

The winter's spirit and advancing maid
above the landscape fled before nightfall
her hand extended to regale ahead
a glass of red and her betrothal call.

The molecules of mist descended on
the surface of the pond where shadows welled
the lady's features made of black crayon
and glancing sacrosanct, my eyes beheld.

The shadows of the field surrounded me
her bridal veiling o'er my ghostly mast,
a standing versus the horizons tree,
diffused its branches fore the gray contrast.

G.V.