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A Face of Despair Behind Rusty Lens “An old Brownie Box camera becomes a mind’s prison where memory fades”   I'm captive in a prison— a Brownie Box camera— old, rusty, silent.   It is locked but I cannot— —or perhaps I don’t want to— remember where I put the key. Do I even have the key?   Pictures hang on its walls. Some are new—who are they? Many more are old—familiar. Perhaps I too am a photograph fading away on the wall.   The loud voices outside mock me. Smug, self-satisfied fools who make a virtue of ignorance. Go away, I despise you.   My life:   I was born on a Tuesday, the dreariest day of the week.   All my heroes—dead. Leonard, Amy, Janis—all gone, and spring died in March.   My beloved Judas, kneels, contrite, in the olive grove— betrayal, his destiny.   I have no yardstick for happiness. it does not concern me— happiness is overrated and it is the coffin of good art. It took me years to understand sunshine is more brutal than the rain.   I’m demented— madness was God's savage gift to me.   I want nothing I need no one, no eulogies, no heroic words.   Just say he was an oddball— a poor poet whose poems no one read, praying to a god who isn't there.   Is God the greatest atheist of them all?   Master— twist the knife a little deeper— is the pain sweeter?   The end of the performance. One last click—the shutter jams. Darkness settles in.     A few words about the poem…   Poems Poems of Despair: A Brownie Box Camera and the Fractured Self The Brownie Box Camera from the “Poems of Despair” series, is not about photography. It’s about confinement, memory, and the slow corrosion of identity. The “camera” is both object and metaphor: an ancient instrument that once captured light but now traps it, turning vision into decay. Within it, the speaker—half poet, half ghost—sifts through fading negatives of his own existence. The poem is an autopsy of self, performed under the dim red light of recollection. The Brownie Box itself is a relic from another century. Its simplicity, its fixed focus and square body, make it an ideal emblem for a mind grown rigid, locked into habit, unable to adjust its aperture. Once it captured the smiling faces of family and friends; now it imprisons their images. Memory has become a museum of ghosts. “Pictures hang on its walls,” the speaker says—each one an echo, a life paused mid-expression, the living reduced to stillness. The poet wonders whether he, too, has become such a photograph, fading on the wall, a residue of light and loss. The opening stanza declares captivity. “I’m captive in a prison—a Brownie Box camera—old, rusty, silent.” The progression of adjectives is deliberate: old evokes time’s erosion, rusty implies neglect, and silent completes the transformation from living tool to inert tomb. The camera’s silence is the silence of the mind when memory stops speaking. The next stanzas turn inward. The key motif recurs—memory, access, denial. “It is locked but I cannot—or perhaps I don’t want to—remember where I put the key.” That hesitation, that admission of unwillingness, is central. Madness in this poem is not frenzy; it is resistance. The refusal to remember is both protection and curse. The self has hidden the key from itself, sealing away the pain of the past and with it all possibility of escape. The photographs become living presences, but the wrong way round. The new ones are strangers; the familiar ones belong to the dead. The inversion is complete: the world outside recedes, and the static interior of the camera becomes more real than the present. The poet’s consciousness is the darkroom in which he develops his own disappearance. Then come the “loud voices” outside, the world that mocks and misunderstands. They are “smug, self-satisfied fools / who make a virtue of ignorance.” Here, the voice turns bitterly human, grounded in social contempt. It’s not only madness that isolates him; it’s the world’s mediocrity. This is a familiar refrain in confessional poetry, but in The Brownie Box Camera it’s filtered through the metaphor of enclosure—the outside world is just noise leaking through the cracks. At this point, the poem shifts gear. “My life:” The colon functions as a hinge, a quiet stage direction: now the performance turns autobiographical. “I was born on a Tuesday, / the dreariest day of the week.” It is a small, sardonic declaration—birth without celebration, existence already marked by tedium. Then comes a roll call of the dead: “Leonard, Amy, Janis—all gone.” These names—Cohen, Winehouse, Joplin—stand for a generation of flawed brilliance. Their presence conjures the poet’s artistic lineage, but also his alienation from it. They are his heroes, and they are all dead. “Spring died in March” adds a personal note of extinction—the cyclical promise of renewal cut short. The Judas stanza deepens the religious undercurrent. “My beloved Judas kneels, contrite, / in the olive grove— / betrayal, his destiny.” This is one of the poem’s emotional centres. Judas is not villain but mirror—an emblem of necessary treachery. The poet recognises in him a figure who had no choice, whose betrayal was written into the script of existence. It’s an image of tragic understanding rather than blame. The poet, too, is both betrayed and betrayer, condemned to act out his part in the drama of life and art. From here, the poem moves into philosophy. “I have no yardstick for happiness.” The claim is not self-pity but renunciation. Happiness, the poem insists, “is overrated and it is the coffin of good art.” The line stings with deliberate arrogance. It expresses an old artistic conviction: that suffering is the furnace of creativity, that joy dulls the edge of perception. “Sunshine is more brutal than the rain”—another inversion, turning the natural order upside down to reveal its cruelty. The metaphor of light, running through the poem, finds its antithesis here. Light, once the source of photography and revelation, becomes an agent of pain. Illumination sears; darkness consoles. Then comes the revelation of madness. “I’m demented— / madness was God’s savage gift to me.” The phrase “savage gift” encapsulates the poem’s theology: creation as cruelty, genius as wound. Madness is not an affliction to be cured but an inheritance, divine and destructive. It is the price of insight, the cost of seeing too much. The closing stanzas strip away all pretence. The poet rejects eulogies, heroism, even remembrance. He calls himself “an oddball,” “a poor poet whose poems no one read.” There is a brutal humility here, but also defiance. To be unread is not to be silent. The act of writing itself—this confession, this monologue from within the box—is its own vindication. The prayer to a God who isn’t there culminates in the question: “Is God the greatest atheist of them all?” A sardonic, metaphysical twist: perhaps the divine has also withdrawn belief, leaving creation to its own devices. The final invocation—“Master— / twist the knife a little deeper— / is the pain sweeter?”—returns us to the theatre of suffering. The master may be God, art, or madness itself. The command is both masochistic and reverent, a plea for one last proof of sensation before the lights go out. Then the poem closes with cinematic precision: “One last click—the shutter jams. / Darkness settles in.” The ending is mechanical, inevitable, and strangely peaceful. The mind’s camera, jammed forever, no longer records, no longer remembers. Darkness, at last, is not punishment but release. The Brownie Box Camera speaks in the voice of someone trapped between confession and myth. It is not a plea for pity but an anatomy of solitude. The old camera stands as witness to memory’s corrosion, art’s futility, and the stubborn endurance of self-awareness. Within its rusted frame the poet remains, both prisoner and photographer, documenting the slow fade of his own existence, one last exposure before the film burns out.

A Lonely Woman in Despair A short span of happiness. I reach out and touch a memory — a glimpse of another life.   Wrapped in a cocoon, you never saw the pain in my voice or the shadows dancing in my eyes.   In despair, I gathered all from a life you wrecked then vanished into the arms of a sad December night.   Now, mauled by memories, I wait to hear your footsteps outside and your voice knocking on my door. Part of the   Old Stories   cycle of poems A few words about the poem… Reflections on Regret and Longing | Melancholy Poems   In A Wrecked Life from the series Melancholy Poems, the poet reflects upon the consequences of his actions on the life of another, leading to profound regret and longing for what could have been. The brevity of happiness emphasized in the opening line sets the tone for introspection and sorrow that permeates the poem.   The imagery of reaching out to touch a memory, coupled with the mention of "a glimpse from another time," evokes a sense of nostalgia and longing for a past that now seems out of reach. This nostalgia is tinged with regret as the speaker realizes the impact of their actions.   Using a metaphor, such as being "wrapped in a cocoon," suggests a state of emotional isolation or ignorance, wherein the speaker fails to recognize the pain and suffering of the person he affected. It is highlighted further by the sentence of not seeing "the pain in your voice" or "the shadows dancing in your eyes."   The despair and sorrow of the affected individual are palpable as she "gathered all from a life I wrecked" and ultimately disappeared into the solitude of a "sad December night." The mention of December adds to the melancholy atmosphere, symbolizing an ending or closure tinged with sadness.   The portrayal of the poet waiting "mauled by regrets" conveys the weight of remorse and the longing for reconciliation. The imagery of waiting to hear footsteps and a voice knocking on the door underscores the desire for redemption and the possibility of reconnecting with the person they wronged.   Overall, "A Wrecked Life" explores the themes of regret, nostalgia, and the consequences of actions. Through evocative imagery and poignant reflection, the poet invites readers to contemplate the fragility of happiness and the enduring impact of past mistakes.

Melancholy Embrace An avalanche of memories— songs, white lilies, yellow roses; my friends and welcome guests. They knock on my door we sit around the table we smoke, drink wine and we talk about you. Your laughter, the laughter of a woman-child, a smile I adored, the eyes I kissed. Lost in the moment I mumbled, “I love you.” You touched me with your words, but we were so young, almost children. Frightened, you ran — you never saw — the sadness falling through my eyes, and one day, opening our door, you left—so quietly and without a trace. Part of the   Old Stories   cycle of poems A few words about the poem… An Analysis of “My Welcome Guests” | Melancholy Poems   In "My Welcome Guests," from the series “Melancholy Poems,” the poet delicately invites readers into a realm of reminiscence, where memories cascade like an avalanche, filling the space with echoes of songs and the fragrant presence of white lilies and yellow roses. The use of natural imagery, such as flowers, evokes a sense of nostalgia and warmth, setting the stage for the arrival of cherished companions.   As the poem unfolds, the poet portrays a gathering of friends, portrayed as "welcome guests," who arrive at the doorstep of the speaker's consciousness. Amidst the camaraderie, there is an undercurrent of introspection, hinted at by the reference to smoking, drinking wine, and conversing about a past love.   The focal point of the gathering is the absent presence of a beloved figure, whose laughter is likened to that of a "woman-child." This juxtaposition suggests both innocence and maturity, perhaps hinting at the complexities of the relationship shared between the speaker and this enigmatic persona.   Through tender recollections, the poet unveils the depth of their connection, recounting moments of affection symbolized by kisses and declarations of love. However, intertwined with these memories is a sense of regret and missed opportunity, as the speaker reflects on their youth and the fear that led them to flee from love's embrace.   The poem reaches its emotional zenith as the speaker confronts the stark reality of loss. The departure of the beloved, conveyed with poignant simplicity, underscores the profound impact of her absence. The silence that follows speaks volumes, leaving the speaker to grapple with the weight of what has been left unsaid and undone.   In conclusion, "My Welcome Guests" navigates the terrain of memory and emotion with grace and introspection. Through its evocative imagery and understated language, the poem invites readers to ponder the timeless themes of love, loss, and the enduring echoes of the past.

A Couple's Emotional Struggle All that's yours neatly packed, all that's mine scattered on the floor; nothing much to show for a life. You've taken all that I ever was and everything that was ever mine. The life we shared is now buried in a scrapbook you choose to leave behind. An act of kindness I thought but I die when you say history should be left between its covers and then I die a little more when you say he is waiting outside to take you home. I run to the window and watch you vanish into the darkness of the street. All you leave behind are footsteps but soon they'll be covered in fresh snow and you'll be gone forever from my life. I plunge into a pit of silence with no colours but shades of black and grey. I drink some more wine and stare at the rainbow in the palm of my hand. The road to oblivion beckons and the clock ticks no more. Part of the   Old Stories   cycle of poems A few words about the poem… Unveiling the Depths of Loss and Despair | Melancholy Poems   "And the Clock Ticks No More," from the series “Melancholy Poems,” delves into the poignant aftermath of the dissolution of a relationship, portraying the emotional turmoil experienced by the speaker as they grapple with the loss and loneliness.   The poem opens with a stark image of belongings some packed and others scattered, symbolizing the separation and division of shared lives. There is a sense of resignation and bitterness in the realization that there is little to show for the life they once had together. The contrast between what is neatly packed and what is left scattered on the floor underscores the disarray and emotional chaos following the departure of the speaker's partner.   The speaker laments the loss of identity and self that comes with the departure of their loved one, feeling as though they have been stripped of everything they once were. The metaphor of the shared life being buried in a scrapbook, left behind by the departing partner, emphasizes the finality of the separation and the inability to hold onto the past.   Throughout the poem, there is a recurring motif of a ticking clock that serves as a reminder of the inevitable passage of time and the fleeting nature of life and love. As the poem progresses the ticking ceases, signifying a cessation of time and the speaker's descent into a state of emotional numbness and despair.   The speaker's memories of love and companionship are juxtaposed with the emptiness and desolation that follow their partner's departure. The imagery of watching their loved one vanish into the darkness of the street, leaving behind only footsteps soon to be covered by fresh snow, evokes a sense of finality and irrevocable loss.   As the speaker grapples with their emotions, they contemplate the road to oblivion, symbolized by the colours of the rainbow in their palm. The rainbow, typically associated with hope and renewal, takes on a more ominous significance here, suggesting a journey towards an uncertain and bleak future, if there is a future at all.   Ultimately, the poem concludes with a sense of resignation and acceptance of the inevitable. The cessation of the ticking clock represents the speaker's acceptance of their fate and their readiness to embrace the darkness that lies ahead. It is a poignant portrayal of the profound impact of loss and the struggle to find meaning and purpose in its aftermath.

Hades and Persephone When Persephone came back to me a rainbow of colours exploded in my grey life.   I had waited for her for so long, I could only see the child that left and not the woman who returned. To me, she was still my gentle lover.   We swam and kissed in the warm waters of the sea but in the panic of our loving, I did not hear the blushing pomegranate fruits calling my lover home.   By autumn, sad and melancholy colours were falling on the ground and brown leaves whispered of winter. The flowers stopped blooming and all the trees began to die.   My Persephone was no longer smiling and a shadow from another world had fallen on her eyes. I knew then Hades had come to take her away.   Dreams of frozen lands with icy rivers, of golden chariots and of majestic crowns were rising in her eyes and the voices of the dead began to call her home.   When September came my sweet child was gone. This time something told me Persephone will never come home to me again. A few words about the poem…   The Cycles of Love and Loss: Greek Mythology Poems in "Persephone Leaving" The poem "Persephone Leaving" from the series “Greek Mythology Poems” explores the cyclical nature of love, loss, and the inexorable passage of time through the lens of the mythological figure Persephone. The poem intricately weaves together personal emotion with classical mythology, creating a tapestry of longing and sorrow.   At the outset, the return of Persephone brings a vibrant resurgence of life and colour to the narrator's world, a stark contrast to the previous desolation. The vivid imagery of a "rainbow of colours" suggests a rejuvenation of both the natural world and the narrator's emotional state. This initial burst of joy and renewal sets a hopeful tone, highlighting the deep connection between the narrator and Persephone.   The shift from joy to an underlying tension becomes evident as the narrator reflects on Persephone's transformation from child to woman. This recognition marks a pivotal moment, as he struggles to reconcile the past with the present, seeing Persephone as both "the child that left" and "not the woman who returned." This duality underscores the complexity of their relationship, fraught with the inevitability of change and growth.   As the seasons progress, the poem's tone shifts to one of foreboding. The imagery of swimming in warm lakes and kissing in yellow fields is overshadowed by the unnoticed "ripening fruit hanging on the pomegranate trees," symbolizing the impending separation. The pomegranate, a key symbol in the Persephone myth, foreshadows her return to the underworld, hinting at the unavoidable cycle of departure and return.   Autumn's arrival brings a sombre mood, with "sad, and melancholy colours" and "brown leaves whispered of winter." The natural world's decline mirrors a growing sense of loss and inevitability. The once vibrant and joyful world fades as Persephone's demeanour changes, her smile disappearing, and "a shadow from another world" falling upon her eyes. This shadow signifies Hades' claim, emphasizing the inescapable pull of her dual existence.   The imagery of "frozen lands with icy rivers" and "golden chariots and majestic crowns" evokes the grandeur and finality of the Underworld. The "voices of the dead" calling her home signal the inevitability of Persephone's departure. The poem concludes with the poignant realization that, with the arrival of September, Persephone is gone, and this time, the narrator senses a permanent farewell.   "Persephone Leaving" is a meditation on the themes of love, loss, and the passage of time. Through the mythological framework, it captures the deep emotional resonance of separation and the cyclical nature of life. The interplay of vibrant and melancholic imagery enhances the poem's emotional depth, offering a profound reflection on change and the enduring impact of love and loss.

Sad-eyed girl on a water lily The rivers surged—first blood. Your naked scent, ripe red strawberries in June, bread and wine on Primrose Hill.   You’ve disappeared again.   December—dead dreams hanging on the Christmas tree and the tired show still goes on. But is it the same without Freddie?   I hear, along the way, you’ve taken on another name or two. And we know you love the sea, you told the world with passion.   One day, I’ll come back. Can you not see the yellow train, rusty and out of breath, puffing up the hill? We’ll walk your street again— past that fork to the broken sign, where the silence became a scream.   You’ve disappeared again.   Like then, we’ll sit in yesterday’s old café with a Coke and two straws, ice cubes warming up the air and maybe—just maybe—if I peel the layers… Part of the   Old Stories  cycle of poems A few words about the poem… The Rusted Sign and the Yellow Train: A Melancholy Poems Essay on Love, Loss, and Loneliness Old Stories, part of the poet’s ongoing series Melancholy Poems, offers a lyrical meditation on the ache of vanished presence, the persistence of memory, and the strange companionship of absence. Saturated with sadness and quiet longing, this poem distills the essence of love and loss, tracing the contours of a relationship that haunts the speaker like a familiar ghost—never fully gone, never fully returned.   From the opening stanza, memory spills out in sensual detail: "your naked scent, / ripe red strawberries in June, / bread and wine on Primrose Hill." These lines evoke intimacy through taste, scent, and season, grounding the emotional tone in physical, almost Eucharistic ritual—food as memory, as communion, as yearning. The speaker remembers not through fact, but through sensation. And as quickly as this tender moment surfaces, it vanishes— “You’ve disappeared again.” The poem's first refrain lands like a heartbeat skipped, a theme set in motion that will cycle, unresolved.   The speaker moves through time like a pilgrim without a map—December now, and the holidays offer no comfort. Instead, they serve as a funereal stage for “dead dreams / hanging on the Christmas tree,” casting a grim inversion of festivity. This is not nostalgia, but a melancholic awareness that even tradition cannot warm the places absence has hollowed out. And in a clever and poignant turn, the speaker wonders “is it the same without Freddie?”—a subtle nod to Queen, to music that once made even sadness glorious. Now, only the tired show remains, going on without its voice.   Midway through, the poem becomes more than personal reflection—it becomes a letter, a reach across years. We hear whispers of transformation: the person once loved has “taken on another name or two,” an act that suggests not just reinvention, but escape. They are now a mythic figure—one who loves the sea, “told the world with passion,” someone who perhaps dissolved into the tides rather than confront what was left behind.   But still, the speaker waits. Or rather, returns. In one of the most delicate and powerful images of the piece, we’re offered “the yellow train, / rusty and out of breath, puffing up the hillside.” The vehicle of return is tired, aged, but it is trying. This train does not promise triumph—it brings weariness, maybe futility. Yet it climbs. This becomes the quiet centre of the poem’s emotional core: even hope in this world is exhausted, yet persistent.   What follows is a brief revisiting of shared geography: “that fork to the broken sign,” a place marked not by directions but by rupture. “Where the silence became a scream” is a moment of poetic crystallisation—what was left unsaid, too long restrained, finally cracked the air. The trauma is not spelled out, but its echo is everywhere.   The refrain returns— “You’ve disappeared again.” This line, repeated, doesn’t change in wording, but grows in weight. It’s not just about someone leaving—it’s about someone who can no longer be held onto, even in memory.   The final stanza invites a return to ritual—a quiet wish. They might again sit in “yesterday’s / old café,” a place that holds the past in its chairs and condensation-slicked glasses. The imagery of “a Coke and two straws” suggests intimacy and youth, preserved in amber. Yet even this memory, this possibility, is conditional: “maybe—just maybe—if I peel the layers…” The poem ends not with resolution, but with a hesitant touch toward revelation. The act of peeling—the slow work of uncovering, excavating, risking—is perhaps the only act of love left.   Old Stories explores the devastating softness of melancholy—how it lingers in gesture and setting, how it repeats like a refrain. The speaker carries the dual burdens of loneliness and recollection, never quite able to let go of what’s lost, nor fully reconnect with what was. The poem is not simply a lament for a person; it is a lament for time itself, for the stories that once seemed permanent but now flicker like the mirage they always were.   As a part of the Melancholy Poems sequence, this piece deepens the thematic terrain of the poet’s body of work, dwelling not in drama but in muted reverie, where love and loss are entwined like ghosts at a train station—never disembarking, always waiting for one more turn around the hill.

A Siberian Snow Tiger Nae sa-lang1 I want to seduce you with gifts of Vincent's clouds and handfuls of sweet red cherries Together we'll float to the edge of sanity painting daisies inside Vincent's head in a whirlwind of divine madness But I know I'm deluded to you I'm just a poor woodcutter climbing on a beanstalk No No I don't want to hear that story anymore bring me Vincent's palette and his brushes —Oh Vincent, Vincent my brother how I'm missing you these days— it's too late for me to listen to the songs of nearly dead cicadas Nae sa-lang I want you with cherry juices running down your little breasts I want you in the frenzied greed of poet's jasmine and in the gasping breaths of your unsated night I want you beyond your limits and your cry, beyond your scream and your whispers because I'm the sun-god the priest of ritual madness and you the Siberian Tiger prowling in the virgin snow lands 1 My love in Korean This poem is based loosely on a Korean tale of love: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Heavenly_Maiden_and_the_Woodcutter A few words about the poem…   A Korean Mythology Poem: The Surrealist Interplay of Desire and Madness   The poem “The Fairy and the Woodcutter” unfolds as a surreal narrative infused with longing, madness, and a deep sense of yearning. The poem, set against the backdrop of a fairy tale in Korean Mythology, weaves an improbable love story where fantasy and reality intermingle, creating a world that is both elusive and evocative.   The poem begins with the speaker's attempt to entice his beloved with gifts that straddle the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary: "Vincent's clouds" and "handfuls of sweet red cherries." These offerings, rich in their allusion to Vincent van Gogh, imbue the verse with an ethereal quality, suggesting a love that is at once beautiful and impossible. The reference to van Gogh, a figure whose legacy is intertwined with genius and turmoil, adds layers of complexity to the speaker's intentions. The act of "painting daisies inside Vincent's head in a whirlwind of divine madness" further anchors the poem in a space where the creative process mirrors the unpredictable nature of love.   However, the poem does not dwell solely on the fantastical. The speaker recognises the futility of his pursuit, describing himself as "just a poor woodcutter climbing on a beanstalk," an allusion to the tale of Jack. This self-characterisation evokes a fairy tale of its own, hinting at a quest that is destined to fail. The beanstalk, a symbol of a reach beyond one's station, underscores the gap between the speaker's reality and his desires. The repetition of "No, No" signals a rejection of this reality, as he clings to the hope of a love that exists only in the realm of his imagination.   As the poem progresses, the speaker shifts from entreaty to a declaration of his identity, rejecting the narrative of the woodcutter in favour of something more profound. His call for "Vincent's palette and his brushes" reflects a desire to reshape the narrative, to create a new reality where this improbable love story could be realised. The invocation of van Gogh as a "brother" suggests a shared experience of anguish, a bond formed in the crucible of intense emotion and creative struggle.   The poem then takes a turn towards the visceral, as the speaker's desire becomes more immediate and corporeal. The repeated use of "Nae sa-lang" (my love) serves as a refrain that grounds the speaker's longing in a cultural context that remains subtly present throughout the poem. The images of "cherry juices running down your little breasts" and "the frenzied greed of poet's jasmine" introduce a sensuousness that borders on the primal. Here, the improbable love story moves beyond mere yearning, into the realm of obsession, where the lines between love and possession, reality and madness, blur.   In the poem's closing lines, the speaker embraces his role as "the sun-god, the priest of ritual madness," casting himself as a figure of both power and helplessness, enthralled by his own creation. The comparison of his beloved to a "Siberian Tiger prowling in the virgin snow lands" evokes an image of untamed beauty and strength, untouched and perhaps unreachably distant. This image, paired with the subtle refrain of "Nae sa-lang," hints obliquely at the cultural roots of the speaker's love, suggesting a connection to a distant and perhaps unreachable world.   The Fairy and the Woodcutter presents an improbable love story that delves into the complexities of desire, madness, and cultural memory. The speaker's journey from hopeful seducer to a figure caught in the thrall of his own imagination mirrors the timeless struggle between reality and fantasy. Through its layered imagery and delicate allusions, the poem explores how the pursuit of love can lead to both creation and destruction, leaving the reader to ponder the true nature of the speaker's love, which remains as elusive and enigmatic as the fairy tale that inspired it.

Love's Timeless Blossom Once upon a time when we were almost children… Do you remember walking in the park? You were warm and gentle like a breeze blowing in the willows. The lilies smiled and blushed and the grand old trees weaved their leaves to give us shelter. I truly loved you then but youth has no patience and is a fool to the world. Life was beckoning and I closed our book before it ever opened. You asked, " Why " and your tears fell onto the lilies and the lilies wept. Now this ancient poet's jaded voice calls to you from across the bridge—my darling one, we met two years too soon. A few words about the poem… Nitah | A Coming-of-Age Poem From the Collection Cyprus Poems “Nitah,” is a poignant coming-of-age poem from the collection Cyprus Poems, that explores lost love and the lingering ache of missed chances. The speaker reflects on their past romance, haunted by memories that still resonate. A powerful and moving piece that delves into the themes of love, loss, and regret. The poem weaves a tapestry of emotions that resonates deeply and invites introspection into the journey of life. Nature becomes a silent witness to the couple's story, infusing the poem with mystical allure. 'Nitah' embraces life's fleeting moments and unveils the raw vulnerability and strength in human emotions.

An Abandoned Open-Air Cinema I. clandestine smiles and glances meander to the little cinema and from its tiny yellow kiosk they buy a dream and tickets for a shilling tonight, their night seems so certain and their tomorrow's half-whispered II. her white ribbons and her scent the modesty of her startled dawn her silver cross and bracelets mimosa blossom and yellow sands cyclamens and a sun-drenched valley cerulean seas and the smell of brine “you” she whispers in the moment of her timid sunrise, beyond the words of pious priests and sombre masters Part of the cycle of poems Thirteen Silk Verses A few words about the poem… A Shilling for a Dream – Cyprus Poems In "A Shilling for a Dream," from the cycle "Thirteen Silk Verses," the youthful romance between a boy and a girl unfolds with a delicate charm. The poem captures their early affection within a deeply religious, traditional society, bound by moral conventions that shape every interaction. In this setting, where any premarital relationship is seen as immoral, the couple’s love remains untouched by physical closeness, expressed instead through the subtleties of glances and whispered words. The poem is imbued with an almost dreamlike quality, portraying love as pure, cautious, and innocent. Set in the small town’s local cinema, the poem reflects a shared experience and cherished pastime. A shilling buys not only a ticket but also a rare escape from the constraints that govern their young lives. Their brief encounter at the cinema gives their night a sense of “certainty” that holds a dreamlike allure, despite the constraints placed upon their love. Each moment is treasured, unspoken but quietly understood. In its simplicity, the cinema outing becomes a scene of tenderness, allowing their connection to exist in a world of imagination and potential. Themes of Innocence and Restraint In the poem, the young couple’s feelings for each other are framed within a world of restriction and modesty. Each gesture and glance carry significance as they navigate a relationship held in quiet regard, never violating the bounds of social expectation. This sense of restraint lends a dignified purity to their love, a connection experienced in small, meaningful exchanges. Their moments together are marked by an innocence that reflects the social codes of their time and place, allowing their affection to remain unspoiled by external pressures or physicality. The cinema serves as a space where they can be alone together, if only for a short while. Within this setting, the limitations on their love become intertwined with the world of fantasy that cinema itself represents, a brief, protected haven where dreams and emotions are allowed to grow quietly. The couple’s connection, though never physical, is rich with tender undercurrents, conveyed through the restrained language of unspoken affection. Imagery and Symbolism The poem’s title, " A Shilling for a Dream," symbolises the modest cost of moments that feel priceless to the young couple. Their experience, though ordinary, becomes a treasured escape, symbolising the purity and innocence of their young love. The phrase “clandestine smiles and glances” reflects the subtlety of their connection, while the image of “her white ribbons” and “silver cross and bracelets” places her within a world of innocence and grace. This symbolic language allows the poem to communicate a quiet yearning that is unspoken but deeply felt. The references to nature within the poem, such as “mimosa blossom” and “yellow sands,” draw on the beauty and tranquillity of their surroundings, linking their love to the landscape that frames their lives. The simplicity of these images reflects the purity of their relationship, and the language itself creates a pastoral backdrop that enhances the sense of innocence and timelessness. These natural images evoke the lush, sunlit landscape of Cyprus, grounding their love in a space both private and shared. Cultural and Religious Context The poem’s cultural setting, steeped in religious and social conservatism, serves as both a framework and a barrier for the young couple’s affection. The presence of “pious priests” and “sombre masters” implies the watchful eyes that govern every action, ensuring that moral codes are upheld. This environment defines the boundaries of their relationship, where love remains chaste and contained. The poem does not question these restrictions but instead reveals the quiet beauty that can arise within them, portraying a relationship that grows in the shadows, unseen and unacknowledged by those around them. Their love, though small in expression, carries an almost sacred reverence, one that exists within the moral parameters of their society. By depicting their love within these boundaries, the poem presents an innocent affection untouched by external desire, suggesting a form of love that is deeply spiritual, even divine in its restraint. Main Poetic Imagery The girl’s “white ribbons” and the “modesty of her startled dawn” evoke her purity and innocence. Her whisper of “you” captures a deeply personal yet modest confession, suggesting an affection unspoiled by words. Her silence carries an honesty that resonates with the careful language of their society, where love is seldom spoken aloud and must remain shrouded in modesty. This restrained expression becomes a defining element of their love, endowing it with a profound depth that might have been lost in a less restrictive environment. By ending on the quiet whisper of “you,” the poem conveys a love that finds its expression in the unspoken, a private, precious affection shielded by the piety and modesty of a religious world. The poem captures the essence of an unconsummated love—a love that remains untouched, existing in the fragile beauty of a shared dream that remains theirs alone. As a part of Cyprus Poems, "A Shilling for a Dream" reflects the experiences of young love in a past Cyprus, where moral strictness shapes the emotions of those in its midst. The poem offers a poignant look at the nuances of Cyprus poetry, where innocence and restraint meet in the tender exchanges of a young couple. Set in a world where love is expressed in glances and whispered words, the poem   becomes a tender exploration of youth, innocence, and unspoken connection that defines "Cyprus Poems" in its timeless, understated beauty.

A Portrait of Federico Lorca In a moment of confusion, an uninvited shadow with a medal dangling proudly around his neck slithered into the poet’s bedroom. Wounded verses poured from the young man’s mouth into a leaden night of sorrow, searching for the stolen moon. It is dawn now in Alfacar; the poet is serene and peaceful. We can see the sky in his eyes, but the sky is made of glass— cracked and painted red. Read A short biography of Federico García Lorca   Spain's greatest poet and playwright A few words about the poem… The Assassin’s Tale: A Tribute to Lorca The poem “The Assassin’s Tale,” a poignant contribution to the collection “Tribute to Lorca,” imagines the final moments of Federico García Lorca, one of the most celebrated figures in Spanish literature and a tragic victim of the Spanish Civil War. Within its tightly constructed lines, the poem, an imagined retelling of the poet’s gruesome murder, transcends time to reflect on Lorca’s enduring legacy, drawing attention to the intersecting themes of death, artistic vitality, and political repression. This work situates itself within a broader tradition of political poems, its narrative blending historical fact with poetic imagination. It portrays the harrowing events surrounding Lorca’s assassination in Alfacar, Granada, in August 1936, during the early days of the Spanish Civil War. Through evocative symbolism and layered imagery, the poem explores the interplay between violence and creativity, loss and defiance. Lorca: Life and Legacy Federico García Lorca was born in 1898 in Fuente Vaqueros, a small village near Granada, into a middle-class family. His literary career blossomed during Spain’s cultural renaissance of the early 20th century, and he became a prominent member of the Generation of ’27. Lorca’s works, such as “Gypsy Ballads” and “Blood Wedding,” fused traditional Andalusian themes with avant-garde innovation, blending the mystical with the mundane and imbuing everyday life with profound meaning. Lorca’s poetry and plays reflect a preoccupation with the tensions between individual desire and societal constraint, themes often expressed through vivid imagery and a deep engagement with Spain’s cultural and folkloric heritage. His works also carry a strong undercurrent of political and social awareness, resonating with marginalised voices. Lorca’s political affiliations and his open homosexuality made him a target for Franco’s regime during the Spanish Civil War. In 1936, at the age of 38, Lorca was arrested and executed by nationalist forces. His body was buried in an unmarked grave, a tragic fate that has rendered him an enduring symbol of artistic defiance and political martyrdom. The Imagined Assassination “The Assassin’s Tale” reconstructs Lorca’s imagined death in terms both intimate and symbolic. The opening lines depict an "απροσκάλεστη σκιά" entering the poet’s bedroom, its "medal dangling proudly." This image evokes the assassin as a figure of authority, driven by ideological zeal rather than personal animosity. The poet’s vulnerability is heightened by the setting—his private sanctuary violated by violence. The "wounded verses" flowing from the poet’s mouth imbue the narrative with a duality: Lorca’s creative spirit remains potent even in his final moments, while the violence of his death extinguishes his physical voice. These verses, "searching for the stolen moon," symbolise both the poet’s unfulfilled potential and the suppression of artistic freedom under totalitarian regimes. The poem’s geographical anchor, Alfacar, situates the narrative within a historical and emotional context. This village, now synonymous with Lorca’s execution, becomes a site of both mourning and remembrance. The portrayal of Lorca as "serene and peaceful" in death contrasts starkly with the brutality of his demise, reflecting the dignity of his artistic legacy in the face of political barbarism. The closing image—"the sky in his eyes... cracked and painted red"—evokes the shattered hopes and bloodshed that defined Lorca’s end. The glassy sky, fragile and broken, mirrors the destruction of a life that brimmed with creative promise. The red hue, a universal symbol of both passion and violence, underscores the duality of Lorca’s existence as both a creator and a victim. Lorca as a Figure of Resistance As a tribute to Lorca, the poem engages deeply with his dual identity as an artist and a political figure. Lorca’s works often championed the oppressed, exploring themes of social justice, love, and human dignity. His commitment to these ideals, coupled with his defiance of societal norms, made him a powerful voice of resistance in pre-Civil War Spain. This tribute to Lorca functions as both an elegy and a call to remember the countless artists who have suffered under repressive regimes. The poem’s stark imagery and concise narrative invite reflection on the cost of political violence and the enduring power of artistic expression. Analysis of the Themes in the Poem The poem is rooted in themes of death, grief, and political oppression. Death serves as both an event and a metaphor, capturing the silencing of a voice that resonated with truth and beauty. Grief is expressed through the fractured imagery of "wounded verses" and the "stolen moon," suggesting the collective mourning of a world deprived of Lorca’s artistry. The theme of political oppression is embodied in the assassin, whose medal signifies allegiance to a system that sought to stifle dissent and creativity. This critique extends beyond Lorca’s individual story, highlighting the universal plight of artists who challenge authoritarian regimes. Analysis of the Verse The poem employs free verse to reflect the fluidity of grief and the unpredictability of violence. Its unstructured lines create a sense of immediacy and rawness, mirroring the chaos of Lorca’s final moments. Enjambment propels the narrative, mimicking the relentless march of events leading to the poet’s death. The brevity of the poem’s lines heightens its emotional impact, each phrase carrying weight and significance. The rhythm, while subtle, is punctuated by moments of stark clarity, such as "the sky is made of glass—cracked and painted red." This line’s abruptness mirrors the abrupt end of Lorca’s life and legacy. Analysis of the Symbolism Symbolism permeates the poem, with the "uninvited shadow" representing the forces of repression and violence. The medal worn by the assassin signifies the ideological justification for Lorca’s execution, reflecting the dehumanising nature of political extremism. The "wounded verses" and the "stolen moon" encapsulate the loss of creativity and inspiration caused by Lorca’s death. These images resonate with Lorca’s own poetic style, which often explored the interplay between light and darkness, vitality and mortality. The cracked, red-painted sky serves as a powerful symbol of destruction and transformation, reflecting both the violence of Lorca’s death and the enduring impact of his work. This image, coupled with the "glassy" quality of the sky, evokes a fragile beauty that persists despite the brutality of its surroundings. Main Poetic Imagery The poem’s imagery is vivid and layered, blending the surreal with the tangible. The "uninvited shadow" slithering into the poet’s bedroom evokes a sense of foreboding and inevitability. The description of "wounded verses" pouring from Lorca’s mouth humanises the poet, transforming his death into an act of reluctant creativity. The final image of the red-painted sky encapsulates the poem’s central themes, merging the personal with the universal. This depiction of beauty marred by violence echoes Lorca’s own work, which often juxtaposed life’s fragility with its resilience. Religious Symbolism While the poem does not overtly engage with religious themes, its treatment of death carries an undercurrent of spiritual reflection. The poet’s serenity in death, coupled with the imagery of the "cracked" sky, suggests a transcendence that mirrors Christian ideas of resurrection and redemption. This subtle invocation of spirituality enhances the poem’s depth, linking Lorca’s legacy to the broader human struggle for meaning and justice. Conclusion “The Assassin’s Tale” is a haunting tribute to Lorca, weaving together history, symbolism, and raw emotion to capture the essence of a life extinguished too soon. As a contribution to the "Tribute to Lorca" collection, it does not only honour the poet’s legacy but also stands as a profound meditation on death, grief, and the enduring power of artistic resistance. Through its evocative imagery and layered narrative, the poem ensures that Lorca’s voice, though silenced, continues to resonate across generations.

A Muse in 'Iva's Song' Song our first days on earth: the taste of apples in the newborn spring, her verses —the i's and the you's in love— hibiscus blossom from her garden and I, stirred by such gifts of chastity I knelt for her she cried —no regrets— then the fury of men a summer later a fortune-teller told me "one day she will marry a songsmith" "let it be me", I begged and crossed her palm with rhyme but she laughed and told me to my face "the girl is far too young to marry thee" now my child has fled to an ancient land a new kind of love is plundering her youth astride the passions of her blushing night and Time —cruel, unrelenting— mocks me an old fool who loved in haste A few words about the poem… Iva's Song: Unveiling Subtleties in a Coming-of-Age Poem A coming-of-age poem, that traces the journey of life, employing subtle metaphors and measured language that, beneath the surface, hint at more intimate experiences. The taste of apples in the newborn spring, symbolizing innocence, carries an implicit suggestion of a first sexual encounter. Notably, Iva, a variation of Eve, adds a layer of biblical allusion, subtly aligning her character with themes of temptation and primal experiences. The act of kneeling before Iva, ostensibly a display of reverence, carries undertones of sexual proclivity, or perhaps submission and vulnerability, adding a subtle layer of intimacy to the narrative. Her cry of "no regrets" takes on a dual significance, both as a declaration of emotional fortitude and as a tacit acknowledgment of the complexities underlying relationships. The rejection of the plea to be the chosen "songsmith" introduces a stark reality, where romantic aspirations are met with a pragmatic dismissal. This refusal, devoid of embellishments or romanticized language, reflects the harshness of the situation, leaving the reader to confront the unfulfilled desires inherent in the narrative. The phrase "old fool who loved in haste" encapsulates the broader theme of the poem, subtly pointing to the folly of older individuals entangled in relationships with younger partners. The nuanced language avoids explicitness, allowing readers to draw their conclusions about the implications of age-disparate love. In conclusion, "Iva's Song" is a contemplative exploration of life, love, and the consequences of impulsive decisions, with the added layer of subtle sexual undertones. It adheres to a stylistic approach that hints rather than explicitly states, inviting readers to interpret the narrative in their own terms. This discerning poem presents a thoughtful representation of the complexities of human experience, leaving the evaluation of its value to the reader's subjective lens.

Poems of Despair You took my burden from an early age on your young shoulders.   The Jewish minstrel, keeper of all words blue, broke your child's heart.   I had no words of hope to give you. My darkness, your cross.   I did not have the right. A few words about the poem…   Exploring Emotional Weight in Poems of Despair: An Analysis of Apology The poem Apology is a compelling and intimate piece that exemplifies the emotional depth found in the cycle Poems of Despair , a collection of works that explore regret, loss, and the complex terrain of human sorrow. Through a minimalist style, the poet strips away excess language, leaving only the raw emotional core—a confession of regret and the weight of inherited pain.   At the heart of the poem lies a deeply personal acknowledgment of the burdens passed from parent to child. The speaker admits that their darkness became the child’s cross to bear, encapsulating the theme of generational impact and emotional inheritance. The line, “You took my burden from an early age on your young shoulders,” conveys both a sense of guilt and helplessness, highlighting the unspoken bond between love and suffering.   The reference to the “Jewish minstrel” is an evocative tribute to Leonard Cohen, whose work is synonymous with themes of sorrow, longing, and spiritual searching. By invoking Cohen, the poem suggests that art has the power both to heal and to wound, to comfort and to deepen emotional awareness. It also situates Apology within a larger literary tradition—one where music, poetry, and confession intertwine to explore the darker recesses of human feeling.   What makes Apology particularly striking within the context of Poems of Despair is its restraint. The spare, deliberate phrasing allows each word to carry emotional weight, while the silences between stanzas suggest what cannot be said—regret that lingers beyond language. The final line, “I did not have the right,” provides a haunting closure, a statement of moral reckoning that resonates long after the poem ends.   In its simplicity and emotional honesty, Apology stands as a powerful addition to the Poems of Despair  collection—a reminder that the heaviest truths are often spoken in the fewest words.