Color palette

This crazy color palette
Twisted by the desires of fall
Burning reds, and glowing yellow
Drops of green, and brown to follow

Drops of water can't wait to splatter
Gusts of wind will bring them down
On the ground to sweep the trail
But the clouds are waiting

Dusty flurry of colored dancers
Shakes the trees, and shakes the leaves
Sugar summer turning slowly
Into the shadow of a dreamonly

Fruits they are rolling
Cold feet are slowing
To let the eyes soak
The last drop of light

Before winter will come
From the dark from the cold
From the old story time
We all love -after fall only

fall

autumn has fallen upon us
suddenly, with a big rain
from a diffuse cloud that
insists it should stay;
the trees are trying
their last cherfull trick
turning their sugars
to yellows and reds;
and I can hear winter
approaching with steps
in the cadence of chestnuts
rolling down on our streets

penelope

Penelope must have grown bitter
the weariness was at first
about the size of an apple seed
and she could easily swallow it;
she was hiding it well.
later it must have grown to
be like an almond seed
and people started to notice
her fragrance was changing
and her steps were getting slower
as if her trunk was dreaming
 of growing roots into the sand.
as many falls passed over her shoulders
she would keep a bit of their wind
in her heart, in her graying soul.
with the memory of a leaf falling
the sugar red turning brown, bitter
but the sea had the power
to wash it all, to draw it all
to swallow it whole
when she walked by the sea.
some still remember
Penelope pacing slowly
and lonely close to the shore
before she turned
her pain into a willow,
shaking her hair
into salty air

The day shall come (when you speak out)

The day shall come
When you will look directly in the eye
When you will talk directly from the heart
When truth will flow like blood
Towards and from your heart.
I'll be so proud
To see you stand as tall
As thoughtful as the mountain
You would have climbed.
And if you talk
Your words shall pour like honey
Sealing wounds
And cutting paths with the assurance
That the river flowing has
To cut its space through red clay banks
The day shall come when you will
Speak your tongue
And all shall understand, my heart
Come bring it out,
My thoughtful knight!

I want to dance

by Lucian Blaga, translated from Romanian

I want to dance
like I have never danced before
So God will not think of himself as chained,
incarcerated within me.
He shall breath free through me.
My Earth shall give me wings:
and I shall turn into a feathered arrow
thrown towards infinity.
I shall not see around but sky
above, and underneath but sky;
and burning with the waves of light
I  shall dance and ride
with unseen boldness,
so God can feel his breath be free
and not complain
that he's been chained,
incarcerated within me.

ariadne

is it because when he touches the strings with his bow
his violin touches your soul?
is it because he's tamed the waves of the ocean
to carry his sounds, is this all?

for these reasons or perhaps even more
you chose to give him your thread
Araidne but you mistakenly
have also given your soul

the sails that have brought him ashore
have been accompanied by wind
and this dried all the hopes that you had
to grow calm little harbors

the dreams of entwined aging are gone
and you're gone Ariadne
isolated from home and your memories too
cause you choose to forget

when he decided to leave you alone
on the island of Naxos
at the command of Gods
or perhaps of the demons

you chose to forget the pain
but you are retracing the maze
and your brain missing its memories
befriended Sysiphus again

your people they worship you as a godess
and think your power you drew
from their island and  sea
but have they herd of your husband the God Dionysis?

He's crowned you with stars Ariadne
(whose magic turns grapes into wine)
and when his fingers touch your wounds
he turns blood into music, flowing like honey
and he makes your eyes shine Ariadne, like stars in the sky

questions for a noisy artist

what demon does your guitar posses
to hold such pathos in her voice?
and how, I wonder how it comes
that you can love a xylophone
and an accordion at the same time,
and add to them a set of drums.

the music flows with you at times,
at other times the earth just shakes
under our feet when the strings scream,
and then I fear the plates may crack
and we shall fall or maybe jump
in the abyss that you create

but then the words - they come to soothe
and when my heart's been tricked
to feel at peace I hear the sarcasm
and the quiet desperation that it breeds;
the noise you make, the love you bring
the open book you are, it makes me sing.

the big hearted Masai

http://www.thenewstribe.com/2012/08/10/london-2012-david-rudisha-of-kenya-breaks-world-record-in-800m/#.UCUVxUTfjDk

http://www.thenewstribe.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/David-Rudisha-London-2012.jpg

he's got the sun burning in his eyes
and he can feel the heavy summer air
is bearing down, the pressure
from the crowds;
the questions in their heart
who will be the one?
he's got the answer
(they all do perhaps),
there will be
no way to stop him
in this race
to be the first
cause he will run
for his father's pride
his mother's joy
his flag to wrap
around his shoulders
when he's done
the big hearted Masai.

4 Chris on his bday!

See the sun, only the sun
when the day is long, and your eyes are bright;
see the moon, only the moon
when the night stays steady, and your eyelids heavy;
see the road, only the road
if you have somewhere to go, and your foot is light;
look up, only look up
when you have got to grow and and to raise above.
dance with this world, only this world
for this moment, only this moment
is all we have got, and so much love
to light the world, that grass is growing

A view towards the medical school in Rio-Patras. From the other side - Antirio.
The poetry is in the picture.



https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IbgB2o-_8W8/TirjSyuKdNI/AAAAAAAAAqI/FX3ong8dXxw/s640/IMG_8011.JPG

Pebbles

White and smooth
Under the foot
They swiftly roll
But do not break
And do not crack
Under the pressure
Strong and never alone
They laugh a the waves
Snapping at them.
Together they roll
Even as they get small
Imperceptibly older
Thy laugh and act
Forever young
And forever the same
perfect image
Of a perfect stone
Replicated by mirrors

river run

when the rivers rolls in anger
and the stones run down with him
mother earth senses vibrations
and she'd like to sooth him still

but the dancers stomp their feet
and their thoughts of war sunk deep
while their cries fly with air currents
their heavy hearts cause pressure cracks

they are all calling for a storm
for the clouds to come a knocking
for the winds to come a blowing
for the rain to fall down pouring

and the mother waits through all
cause her voice is damped by age
and her wrinkles wise and soft
she will bear it she'll outlast it

heroes sons she has had before
who fought hard and played and drank
running anger through their veins
daughters waiting by the river

for the peace to reign again

Knock

I knock
At a virtual door
I am but a path
Leading there
There is no threshold
But me taking the step
The right step
Forward
Are you there?
Has the sound of the modem
reached you yet,
Before being superseded
by glasses that project
the caller's face
on the back of your brain?
are you home
are you there ?
If you need me I am
between fast forward
and past perfect
pinging through time.

The boss

We rock back and forth
on the waves of his emotions
they lift us up, then let us down
and we long for the ride

We ride the waves of his emotions
His single voice crashing against
The bars of sand, shells
And rolling stones

What lets him talk
So straight to our hearts
And why and what do we give
In return for his art?

His music flows
Out of his mouth, guitar and heart
his words put fire in young minds
And keep the olden greener than pines

The messages fall through the cracks
Of the imprisoned art
And wants to be free
And we can all help with that

For if his music falls
Into the lakes of our souls
We let the ripples take it
As far as we can

We push it through our minds
And out of the dark
Solitude of the past
We push them out in the world

So they can change that
with our voices
ported by waves
we can change that

metallic girl

The metallic girl can bend, can snap and can cut but she cannot bleed for she has no heart

life simply

life is what happens
sometimes according to your plans
sometimes apparently random
to you and to yours

life is your solid path
through the forest of time
and the golden drops
that slip from your hand
into the sand

life is joy and laughter
the pain and the tear
the bruising of elbows and knees
the getting up and moving on
life if the love that you share
the dawn that you dawn unto others
the smiles that you give and receive
(for you are never really alone)
at sunrise and sunset
intermingled with dreams

Learning to swim

Nobody laughs as sweet as she does
Nobody smiles so gently as him
They roll through my world
Meeting at angles
Learning to swim smoothly
And strongly they will
But it takes some friction
Some patience and sweat
And mostly what we all expect
To give and receive
Lots of love

Kicking

To the bad minutes of the day a kick
To the hurdles you have to jump a kick
To the nonchalance stuck to your face a kick
And a shake and a pass or a goal
If you score or not pick the ball
Now you are ready to go home
Will play some more tomorrow.

running

She was a tree at the edge of the forest
tall and pretty, and a little bit lonely
a few steps ahead of her fellow trees
and a little too close to road

she admired the road, smooth and long
and seemingly leading somewhere
where people longed to go everyday
any sense of the way

she admired those running
with the sun in their hearts in the morning
their hot heels hitting to road
trying to find a sense of direction

but they were all gone too soon
like the rays deviating at sunset
always to soon to hide for the night
and she stayed tall and pretty and lonely

at the edge of the road she was waiting
for something perhaps like the river
with many branches leading to something
she would never know

one day she heard a little voice singing
the bird had brought it from a windwow
where a girls was talking to her tree
one morning in april.

the road, the road must have led to the girl singing
the luscious road, the dusty road
the sunny road, the rainy road
one day will lead to singing.