The River Acheron - a poem by Chris Zachariou

The River Acheron

On the first day of June
she crossed the lines of innocence
and was budding to the world.

She walked into the forest
with timid steps and a smile of sin
dancing on her newborn breasts.

Requiem - a poem by Chris Zachariou

funeral candles

We close her eyes

we kiss her forehead
then darkness for eternity.

An ashen moon
drips blood on thirteen
white carnations

A century of sleep - a poem by Chris Zachariou

a beautiful young girl

I.

I buried my songs
in a wooden hut

and in the shade
of scented candles
I saw the Trisagion
  grieve
in the young girl's tears.

Ophelia lost - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Ophelia

Her white memory—

the young forest

the scent of apple blossom

the taste of sunrise.

In a frenzy of swirling passion

we buried our fledgling sainthood

deep in the walls of the pious chapel

and together we fled to the safety 

of the lilac sea.

The Epitaph

 

funeral candles

Candles flicker, the cantors chant
and the solemn sermon of the priest
fills the church with blackness.
Longing for a scrap of comfort,
I gaze at the austere saint
standing sentry at the sacred gate.

Thursday, 23 June 2016 - a poem by Chris Zachariou

Prisoners Exercising, by Van Gogh

The dismal spectre of a dying stanza

gasps between the black and white keys

of a crumbling, tuneless piano.

Cigarette burns and brown stains
scar its tired wooden top—  tarnished

medals from recent wars and skirmishes.

The Fairy and the Woodcutter - a poem by Chris Zachariou

A Siberian Snow Tiger

I want to seduce you

with gifts of Vincent's clouds

and handfuls of sweet red cherries