Rachel and Aysha - The Innocent Victims of War

The Golden Gate of old Jerusalem

Rachel screams.
A ripping pain mauls
her body but the cruel
abuser has no pity.

The Madonna of the River | A Coming-of-Age Poem

A Young Woman Swimming

A Young Woman Swimming

My green-eyed Madonna
writhes and screeches in the mud
with tobacco-chewing rednecks.

Where Did the Blues Go to Die? - A Poem by Chris Zachariou

 

I waited at the station for the train
to St. Louis, but the train never came.

Songs at 4 am - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Little Venice, London in Winter

It's the twentieth of December.
I wander around the streets searching
for the stairway back to us in Little Venice.

Lovers mingle on the bridge,
they hold hands in bars and small cafés
and small boats glisten on the water.

The old fool - a poem by Chris Zachariou

The Circle Line

I'm shackled on the Circle Line
rereading the same adverts all the time.
There are all kinds of people on the train.
Many sleep, some stare into space
and many more grin like startled fools.

Lilith's revenge - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Lilith the first woman

“Her gates are gates of death,
and from the entrance of the house
she sets out towards Sheol”*

Thursday’s child galloped bareback

from the bleak wastelands of the desert
into Inanna's garden;
she sprinkled verses at her feet and whispered
'On the seventh day, I will be your only lover.'

I will always be her lover - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Passionate Embrace: Evoking Erotic Poetry

I live inside her twisted mind.
There was no choice. She left the door
ajar and casually asked me to come in—
youth can be so careless these days.