The tango teacher
The Tango teacher danced before
his monolithic size,
...
Marmalade upon the bread 7
- yet not there alone - 5
tempts the birds to taste the spread
search the unbeknown.
...
Αρχές Δεκέμβρη ήταν κι αγρυπνούσε,
στην καταχνιά φιγούρα μοναχή,
τριγύρω της μια σιγαλή βροχή
θροίζοντας, με τα στοιχειά μιλούσε.
...
Beclogged his mind attempted to
assemble words and make them rhyme
two chicks inside his dancing shoe
arpeggios sang about lunchtime.
...
Αναθυμάται τον η νια στο θρόισμα του Μπάτη,
στις τρεις τ' αφήλιο γιόρτασαν, του μήνα Αλωνάρη
κι όπως τη ρόκα έγνεθε, κόρη πρασινομάτη,
απόδιωξε τον άνεμο, του κάμπου καβαλάρη.
...
Μουγγό σκυλί
Θολή στο γκρίζο στέκεται, φιγούρα στη βροχή
χωρίς γι' αυτό μια αφορμή, τυχαία θάν' η αιτία
...
Σταχτιές καδένες
Θαρρείς ο χρόνος στάθηκε στου δειλινού το διάβα
το μούχρωμα κατάφερε για λίγο να φωτίσει
...
The mirror's images, imbuing, fade
preceding instances, thο', reproduce,
our autumn photographs the rain conveyed,
a soughing message, fated to diffuse.
...
The debris truck rolled on the asphalt road
meantime the sot upon the sidewalk spread;
a destiny of glory, thus, foretold,
assigned a straying rock to strike his head.
...
Πώς χάραξαν το πέρασμα αόρατοι εργάτες
βροχάρια κι αγριοκάτσικα που σμίλεψαν τα βράχια
εκεί οπούσαν σύννεφα, κι αγγέλοι στρατολάτες
σε πέτρινες βουνοπλαγιές και γκρίζα καταράχια;
...
ghostly barque
The seabirds fly amid the clouds
and all along fear naught to stray
...
The night encompassed his face and voice,
outside the blue window, alone he stood,
...
Ήταν γλαρόνι του νοτιά, θάλασσινός αγέρας
Τη μέρα που αποφάσισε να γίνει αστροναύτης
...
- To the Halls of light
She waited on the skyline - bloom, and thorn
an ointment of vows and thoughts, at night
...
She called me in the wind
She called me holy inside the wind, her wraith;
Befallen souls of angels dream and nest,
...
Color of eyes
Color of eyes, perchance remote,
your street and number, on a blank note,
...
Βροχή αργόπεφτε στα πέτρινα σκαλιά,12
προσώρας φάνηκε ηλιού αχτίδα,11
τζαμένια ανάκλαση σα μονοκονδυλιά,
μα χόρευε η βροχή στην Αργολίδα,
...
Her Soul, The Sea The Ship The shadows deigned in precise sequence where skylines have conducted fore the ship, its blackened sight to boss the thought and sense of sailors that imagined its long trip. The Northern wind was cutting like a knife, injurious, its messages behowled, equilibrating on the brink of life of the foregone to seas, the thinking prowled. The ship's black smoke ascended to the skies from supercilious tall funnels, smog, bestowing sacrificial offing size to sovereign Gods that lived inside the fog. The tidal and enshrouding foaming spills advanced the dusk, advanced the bawling horn's unearthly sounding out; the flowing rills retracted in the sea its crying mourns. In front of us, the ship's displacement thrilled approaching, so, magnificent the moors; Her Soul the Sea, her eulogy instilled inside our minds and souls, where faith adjures. Pristine the sea, baptized the scene in depths where psyches stay in canted-over keels, deceptive were the reasoned-out percepts, infused where catastrophe conceals. The night descended when the ship's steel gaze examined curious and measured me, proposing wedlock and a fate of blaze, my competence, demanding, in the sea. Across the Straits, young lady Sadness kissed with ripping cold my twenty years and eyes, resembling Her Soul, the Sea, amidst the howling Northern winds and my demise. © 2013-10-15 G. Venetopoulos All rights reserved Iambic pentameter)
- The Tango Teacher
The tango teacher
The Tango teacher danced before
his monolithic size,
a red dressed figure, tripping, thrilled
his attitude and thought,
for none knew better than this femme
to make the apple pies
his appetite so coveted
and blurry thinking sought.
She moved around his bulkiness
with brio and pizzazz
convincing him to dance with her
a tango por amor,
a man of gallantry who learned
its steps in Alcatraz,
began to twirl with elegance
upon the marble floor.
The apple pies were resting on
the kitchen wooden board,
so, every time he started to
express his loving quotes
she stuffed his mouth with tasteful chunks,
he certainly adored,
and both whirled in the air
with donkeys, pigs and goats.
So, dancing carelessly, the man
betrampled on her toes
while she was holding in her teeth
a crimson Spanish rose.
Giorgio has so much heart and inventiveness and ingenuity. He never fails to amaze.
Great though poetry and human personality My teacher, in poetry . My respects
Georgios Venetopoulos stands out from the other poets with his talent and rich knowledge of Metric art. He is a multi-talented poet and inspired man. His poem is among the best internationally. It stands out for its rich language and writing, but also for its impeccable plot in its Greek or English language.
I'm sure the verse is perfect... But does it have duende? So I'll say vive Paris!
Ποίηση με τέχνη λόγου μαεστρία ανακινεί τις αισθήσεις και ταξιδεύει τον αναγνώστη με ρομαντικό αντίκτυπο! Ευγε!
He is a multi-talented poet and inspired man. His poem is among the best internationally. It stands out for its rich language and writing, but also for its impeccable plot in its Greek or English language.
Respect Poetry so Poetry will respect you.
A significant rule in Pro photography: Never shoot pics, without a camera in your hands. Chances are you won't have anything to upload afterwards.
Pompous pom pom works: perchance the pearls of artists, so clumsy they seem.
It is very easy to pen a thought. It is quite difficult, though, to compose a real poem.
Photograph what you love and learn to be a pro at it. There will be no price, though, for what you love most.
A poem is a sequence of thoughts. One thought, though, is not a poem.
In the world of photography, there are two kinds of people: Those who can prepare a nice spaghettata and those who can't.
Iambus is not a cloud (like cumulus and nimbus are) but when applied in structured poetry, it may become an overly cloudy matter.
I hesitate to offer simple words in praise of such effective writing. May I just say that I am thrilled and delighted each time I read a new offering from Giorgio Veneto.