Atthis Abandons Sappho - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Portrait of Sappho

I'll always love you Sappho,
my love of yesteryear.

A graceless child you thought me
but you took my hand and loved me
with a kind of love that burned.

The Migrant Song - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Syrian refugees

in boats with broken masts
they come looking for a manger
but our inn is full tonight

the inn we built
on the skull and bones of Africa

Sappho and Anactoria - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Sappho

Sweet Cyprian Goddess!
A wise fool, yet I did not see
when lust was turning into love.

I must die tomorrow - 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, 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.

Death on the Hill

Lover of the wife;
father of the child;
seducer of the bride.

All my life, you tortured me.
The father I love, you crippled.
Now he splutters in the corner—
a voice without words.

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.