Rumours of your sainthood - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Reflection on the Quay

A stranger's face leaps

out of the looking glass.

In a panic, I peel
the layers searching for
the girl I knew, the girl
with the flower cotton dress.

I thought of you - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Love - Alex Stoddard Photo

I wandered into the orchard.

I saw blossom on the trees

and I thought of you.

I wandered into the meadow.

I saw a butterfly and a rose in love
and I thought of us.

I wandered into our street.

I saw you at the window

and my heart was filled with joy.

Dreams beyond a poet's heart - a poem by Chris Zachariou

beautiful butterfly

..Menelaus's Lament

My beauty queen,

on your knees before for your King.

My clothes are made of denim—

and my shackles are made of love.

Your long black skirt is made of silk—

now take it off and lie down.

Death of a dream - a poem by Chris Zachariou

lilies

You feed me slices of Madeira cake,
I roll two cigarettes and pour us mulled wine.

When the wine and the cigarettes
are done, we go down to the rocks
and dance to shy cicada love songs.

Nitah - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Love's Timeless Blossom

Once upon a time
when we were almost children…

Do you remember walking in the park?

A merciless queen - a poem by Chris Zachariou

cruel butterfly

With a simple brush stroke,
the master painter builds for you
a castle of vast rooms with high
shelves all stacked with silent heads.
You always sought to live in such
a weird world of silence with a moat
of angry words around you.

Every time I come to you, you scream:
"There is no room for you in my inn."
But why do you leave your door
unlocked at night, can it be that you
really miss me and maybe neither of us
wants to be on our own tonight?

I devour with a poor man's hunger all
the poisoned words you shoot at me
each day from across the pond and gorge
on them with a rich man's greed.

Why did you summon me to your court today?
I was certain the next time you’d meet with me
would be where failed poets go for shelter.

Admittedly, my provocation
was thoughtless, I sinned against the meter!
Can you not forgive me though and pack me
off to art school in Vienna?
After all, you prescribed this for another.

Casualties are mounting high,
hostilities have never ceased and so far
you have refused all my offers of a truce.

Look out of your battlements, I'm on
my way riding an old steed, my armour
is getting rusty and the only gifts I bring
to you are the words of a jaded scribbler.
We both knew one day I would return

braving your moat and high walls.

You broadcast to the world I'm simply
an inconvenience, and that you are happy now.
My merciless young queen, I never had selfish
ambitions for you like that, I like you too much
to want to make you happy, and you know
how much alike we are, both blessed with sharp

wit and the precious gift of loneliness.

A death foretold - a poem by Chris Zachariou

My love for The Son of Man and Christianity as a way of life is infinite, however, I find it impossible to believe in a metaphysical world.

This poem is my own personal view of God, Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene. Please do not continue reading if you are easily offended or intolerant of other peoples' views.

This poem is largely inspired by the novel 'The Last Temptation of Christ' by Nikos Kazantzakis.

Golgotha

In a squalid hovel out of town

a gypsy hammers rage and steel

fashioning four shiny nails to kill

the prophet king.