Joseph S. Josephides Poems

Tonight, in this transitory home of Visbaten, let us
converse on nostos for our Pontus in a special way.
...

Constantinople or Nova Roma or New Zion, whatever,
no Greek reigned it for eleven centuries only Athenian
Irene, the shadow of King Leo, she who distorted morals
who hanged images of saints on the walls of churches
...

You newcomer, listen to the aged Ragged monk:
Praise the palace, the genus of the King,
propagate that when born he was shining,
it was a miracle; people gape idly in such rumors.
...

In the nursing home my boredom has its birthday,
the candles weight more than the cake itself.
Do not kill the fly; it’s my sole companion here.
Planning my funeral I prefer fragrant violets
...

The teacher for religion examines the pupils.
'What is love? ' giving them marks accordingly:
'excellent', to the wealthy and pompous pupil,
'poor', to the needy pupil who talks in brief.
...

The child's hand doesn’t know that
it’s a hand; it dreams that one day
it will become a flower or a bird.
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She is anxious, gazing the ships from her rock,
sees Mercury and Neptune as porters* and asks
me: 'Cousin, is Alexandrer the Great alive? ’
'Follow me, lets swim towards Cyprus', I reply
...

Friendship, the first words flow as a river
from the heart of the one to that of the other;
the friend’s shoulder is wide to relieve the pain on,
in desert a friend creates a shade for the other,
...

He fell in love for good with the blind girl,
was closing his ears to avoid words of people.
'You’ll find your light', he gave her an oath
but didn’t say the light would be of his eyes.
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Your Majesty, can you assess your boredom?
Your buffoon Buffon has jumped on your throne;
he grasps the bottom of your Lady but you laugh.
Alas! The folks demand bread, not spectacles
...