James Papastamos Poems

Rusty old nails, crusty yet bold
Pharisees who drove its Death sentence
while Golgotha raised its hairless brow
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A knife without a handle to
comfort, to convenience, a weary hand; the
Scent of love in the morning air
a rose garden mid desert sand
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A sprawling, sparsely animated, German countryside
loitered about, having littered Satan’s corner;
Barbed wire crossed God’s chosen people…crossed us all,
Cattle cars, seemingly out of nowhere, steam driven yet
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The star of David filled the sky
with shades of light to shadow why;
Such thoughts for one to be
the mother of God. What more to say?
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Both now…and then, I set the pace
I’m time itself. I am the truth
My arms reach wide, there’s no escape
I give you age, but rob thy youth
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God had kept His promise. He did!
The living God lives by His word. He does! !
As rain clouds burst with activity
Anointing His chosen ones with
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The Nursing Home
by James Alexandros Papastamos
I
Imprisoned by such hands of time
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A rose could not have smelled as sweet
as debonair as simple be;
Her deep brown eyes would color my world
where black and white was all I’d see.
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My body lies frozen
On a cold hard bed of reality
Linen, long and leisurely,
Soft as a virgin's thoughts
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Cancer mystifies…if not, it
Disfigures the rising sun
Its walls as overbearing as bare
Deflect what dying glimmers of fun
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