Greece Poem by Cherie Mort

Greece

Rating: 5.0


If someone were to ask me
What I thought of my trip to Greece
From so many summers ago,
I would not say I thought of the swaths of cerulean sea,
Or its warm, swirling foam borders
I would not say I thought of the tall, stoic columns
Or the naked statues glorifying the human form

What I would tell you was what I experienced

Little things like pistachio ice cream,
Covered in green-tinted white chocolate;
Walking through the Athenian Agora,
And nearly getting mugged;
Dancing on a stage
With two Swedish women
As Greek music played at a performance;
Eating grilled squid, salty and tender,
Freshly caught from the ocean;
Tossing and turning at night
As the summer heat choked me with its heavy breath;
A wise little woman
Who could see into your head
And read everything you didn't want to say,
Or didn't know how to;
Visits to warm, sandy beaches
And my grandmother's family home
In the same village that my aunt's husband comes from;
Meeting with said uncle's mother
In her family-run store,
And later going down to the village square
To drink a glass of dark-red cherry juice
(Which I would be remembered for by the waiter the next night) :
Watching a comedic marionette show in the village square
And sharing those same jokes over and over again
For the next few days;
Meeting gypsies almost everywhere I went,
Nearly all of them showing off brightly bleached hair,
Yellow as lemon skin,
And skin as smooth and dark as a polished mahogany dinner table;
Waking up one night to some unknown sound,
And going downstairs to find the window open,
Then deciding to not tell anyone about it,
Instead opting to sleep downstairs and gather evidence alone,
Like the detective I was not
(And only because I was reading a Nancy Drew book then):
Taking a boat ride early in the morning
(Too early for me to even want to be awake)
To a sacred shrine, in order to celebrate a holy feast
day
And not returning home until well after the sun had fallen

I have not been back since,
What with political turmoil wracking that beautiful country
Like the coughs of those who are deathly sick
The beauty of that country, Greece, has not faded
But become more somber and more beautiful in her melancholy state

Perhaps it is her deathly pale face that makes her so attractive,
Though her land and resources are being daily sapped as she wastes away
Other countries may whisper and gossip as they like,
But Greece still holds her elegant head high,
For, even dressed in rags,
A diamond is still a precious gem

Sunday, January 15, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: country,experience
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
S.zaynab Kamoonpuri 15 January 2017

What a great travelogue poem. Wonderful descriptions and interesting scenes. Splendid freeverse style. Enjoyed the exotic stuff u sing of here. Kudos. U r most welcome to comment under my latest poem too titled, 'pay a visit to a riverbank, pls do

1 0 Reply
Chinedu Dike 15 January 2017

Beautiful and insightful depiction of an ancient civilization, that still retains its beauty in it's state of decrepitude. A well articulated piece of poetry elegantly brought forth with conviction. A lovely poem indeed. Thanks for sharing.

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