Northern Halo
Before your enigmatic manner
I adjust the red chiton and
the crown of thorns on your hair
I raise your fortitude straight to the sky
this April and I salute
ecce homo
Archive for March, 2026
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Critical Hour
Everything was calm in the house: the morning coffee,
the afternoon sorrow, sleep, dates and words, dreams and
controversy: even mourning was set in time or memory
Though we all shivered as the curtain sometimes ruffled
or a napkin fell on the floor noiselessly
as if what we had feared suddenly occurred.
Ecstasy of Death
The glee of the crosshairs steadied
onto the faraway dwelling
The enemy’s hideout
family members having dinner
Talking of crops that didn’t look good
The weather didn’t cooperate
The fertilizer wasn’t as potent
The Allies’ bombs haven’t helped
echo of the officer’s finger
caressing the enter button
Ecstasy of Death, the guided
missile found its target
civilians, collateral damage
eliminated enemy
The company’s share price rose
earnings statement improved
Dividend on common shares: unparalleled
Price Earnings Ratio: Exceptional
Defence contractor: a euphemism
Questionable Love
My questionable, doubting love…
When you sleep in bed, diagonally, relaxing after making love.
The love making you doubt and fear.
But, as you sleep in that fashion, you have surrendered yourself to it.
Here then, in your sleep I’ll whisper that I love you.
Here where you can neither contradict me nor doubt me.
Where with no fear your rhythmic breathing accepts love.
Then I’ll stay awake all night long while you sleep to repeat that I love you, that I adore you that you are my life.
That your naked body in bed takes my breath away and my body shivers of lust and desire when I think of us together.
And you, you will think you dream of this. And like in any dream it doesn’t scare you.
This way, then, here awake till morning, waiting for you to wake up.
Wonder if in the morning I ask you, will you tell me of your dream?
…And whether you were a
Turk, a gypsy, a holy man,
a hero or a thief you wished
to bow and pray before him.
In the cave where he lived
the anchorite kept untouched
unused and foreign
a violin among the violins
and he touched it from time to
time as the years passed
and all other old men said
that they sometimes heard
the glen echoing a godly
music as if the spouts
of heavens joined to
become one mouth
one heart so they could
sing all that the local hearts
couldn’t tell and lips
couldn’t disclose;
slowly the holy song spread
as rarely as ever and
was slowly absorbed
by the lonely glen
since the old anchorite
slowly ascended too
over the earth towards
the splendorous light…
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 