Dionysiou Aeropagitou Street- Poetry by Sofia Kioroglou

Upon first glance, Dionysiou Aeropagitou street
looks like any other cobbled pedestrianized plot
Flanked on one side by antique looking houses
bustling with life and music wafting from a roving cellist

ASTYPALEA

 

First published in the Silver Birch Press “Beach & Pool Memories” Series (June-August 2016). 

Swathed in silky aquamarine waters, far-flung, butterfly-shaped. Astypalea, the bank of Gods, is my ultimate escape from the scurry and scramble of bustling Athens. With a frozen piña colada, I behold the rugged beach fringed in gas-blue waters, not holding out much hope of sighting a mermaid.

Flying by the seat of my pants

Life is like riding a bicycle

You don’t fall unless you stop pedalling

But what about freewheeling?

It is like allowing your life

to be controlled by destiny

 

The truth is that I have never learned

to ride a bike but only to freewheel

I love flying by the seat of my pants

I just love the unpredictable

I just want to see life like a walk in the park

*The poem was originally published in June’s Winamop issue

 

The looking -glass self

Your stabs hit me exactly where you hope they would
with such ferocity that gouges out all vanity and conceit.
A knife thrust through the illusions of my bloated ego,
An ugly distortion of an inner image through a plastic glass
which finally crumpled with me looking at the looking-glass self.

Something in my way

 

I see an obstacle
always a roadblock
in my dreams and when awake

What I call poetry

I know I am not much of a poet myself
I just love to describe what I see
what touches my heart, what leaps to mind.

At Idomeni to the village of Chamilo

 

For a moment I thought
I had found a new home
I was swathed in blankets
and given some food.

Be not deceived

Death never forgets.
Our sins will haunt and
find us out so beware
Be not deceived;
God is not mocked:
for whatsoever a man soweth,
that shall he also reap

Via Dolorosa

Poetry challenge: Easter poem.



I see my Lord, the Way, the Truth and the Life
He moveth on wearing a crown of thorns, carrying a cross
I see my Lord crawling on the raggedy way leading to Calvary
the blood from his forehead smarting His eyes.

I am not a saint…

I am
not a saint
I try not to swear
but sometimes I do
I try

Raitho

Raitho
the Land of Fruits
the biblical Elim
a stopping place for travellers
El-Tur

The photos were taken on Mt Sinai last year

Jerusalem

Jerusalem
The city of Gold
Jerusalem
Where Jesus walked
O’ Holy city,
Holiest of all
The land where Lord
on the Mount of Olives
would stand to talk.

I fell in love with a frog

I fell in love with a frog,
who was sitting alone on the banks of the Nile,
mooning over the premature decease of his beautiful wife.

He was sobbing his heart out,
his lips convulsed with woe, dripping emotion,
his chin atremble, the words buried in a raven black but deafening silence.

Ne Me Mens Pas

Je déteste les mensonges
S’il te plaît, ne me mens pas…
il est préférable de me faire du mal
au moins ce sera la vérité

—

Don’t lie to me

I hate lies
So don’t lie to me
It is better to hurt me.
It will be the only Truth

Terrorism

Terrorism
Dark and Lethal
Shooting, bombing, killing
Blood, Corpses, Chaos, Anarchy

The leaves have turned yellow

The leaves have turned yellow

the skies scowl at me

lobbing thunderclaps and lightning bolts

drenching me with torrential rain

The scowl deepens

as I enter Attica Toll way.

Ein Karem

Ein Karem
John’s birthplace
The city of Juda
7.5km south-west of Jerusalem
Blessed

Like cream in your latte

Your chocolate eyes sparkle
effervescent and fragile
they melt like cream in your latte
as they flutter like a butterfly before
its flight to heaven.

 

Be not deceived

Death never forgets.
Your sins will find you out
and come home to roost
So, "Be not deceived; God is not mocked:
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap

Laistrygonians and Cyclops

I go around in circles
around myself
having lost my destination
I am stuck in my mind's morass
 

Madison Avenue

I met you on Madison avenue
four thirty in the afternoon
while trying to catch a ride back home.

Not careful.
Head buzzing with dates and numbers.
I just bump into you.
My soulmate clock stops.

Woe betide the unwary

The photo was taken on Mt Sinai last 
December during my trip to Egypt
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Woe betide the unwary
engulfed in worldly pleasures
Accustomed to seeking the material well-being
For if we had been blind
we would have had no sin.
 

The Porfiropolis of Heaven

The Woman of Purple
Lydia of Thyatira
The Merchant of Purple cloth
The Porfiropolis of Heaven

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

No regrets: Haiku

I have No regrets

I have learnt from my mistakes

We live with the scars we choose. 

Patiently Yours, Nietzsche

It smells like winter.
The hot tea is steaming in the mug
Peter got from Hong Kong on his last visit,
along with a pinkish scarf.

I am anxious to see him back on terra firma.
He called to say he’s lost his visa.
But rest easy!