THE CRUELLEST MONTH

“The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.”― T.S. Eliot

Poets and Storytellers United has prompted us this week to give a poem related to the first line of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land: “April is the cruellest month”.  Here is my offering. Remember I am in Australia and April here is the middle month of our Autumn.

Winter Harvest

Standing on the brink of April
Waiting for the signal
That will send me down its yawning depths;

Poised on the fork of Autumn,
Waiting for the pallid dawn of Winter solstice
That will send my heart a-roaming yet again;

Balanced on the cutting edge of crescent moon
Waiting unmoving, for a single word of yours
That will let the sickle slice cleanly through my soul.

A word can heal, a word can kill;
Your word can make my darkest Winter, warm Summer
And what you say can make my Spring, a frigid Fall;
Speak softly, say your word,
And I will harvest either a rich bounty – or else dry, poisoned chaff. 

TRAVEL TUESDAY 489 - ATHENS, GREECE

“The basis of a democratic state is liberty” - Aristotle

Welcome to the Travel Tuesday meme! Join me every Tuesday and showcase your creativity in photography, painting and drawing, music, poetry, creative writing or a plain old natter about Travel.
There is only one simple rule: Link your own creative work about some aspect of travel and share it with the rest of us. Please use this meme for your creative endeavours only.
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The prominent equestrian statue of Theodoros Kolokotronis, a key leader in the Greek War of Independence of 1821, is located in Athens, Greece. The statue is situated in front of the Old Parliament House (Constitution Square), a location that underscores its historical significance. The statue was sculpted by Lazaros Sochos.

The statue commemorates Theodoros Kolokotronis, a prominent leader in the Greek War of Independence against the Ottoman Empire. The statue was crafted in 1895 and installed with great ceremony on April 23, 1901. The costs for the erection of the statue and the celebration following its unveiling were raised through a pan-Hellenic fundraising campaign, which started in 1877. There are many other statues of Kolokotronis in Greece, including one in his birthplace Ramovouni, Messenia.

The celebration of the Greek Revolution of 1821 (Greek: Εορτασμός της Ελληνικής Επανάστασης του 1821, Eortasmós tis Ellinikís Epanástasis tou 1821), less commonly known as Independence Day, takes place in Greece, Cyprus and Greek diaspora centres on 25 March every year, coinciding with the Feast of the Annunciation. The day is a public holiday in Greece and Cyprus.

Usually, celebrations include parades and other celebratory events on the same day or its eve. The largest event is the military parade in Athens on 25 March, while on the previous day, celebrations take place throughout the schools of the country. In other municipalities parades of military divisions, students, clubs, etc. are held, as well as church services.

More broadly, the holiday acknowledges the successful Greek War of Independence (1821–1829) was fought to liberate and decolonize Greece from four centuries of Ottoman occupation. After nine years of war, Greece was finally recognised as an independent state under the London Protocol of February 1830. Further negotiations in 1832 led to the London Conference of 1832 and the Treaty of Constantinople (1832); these defined the final borders of the new state and recognised the king, King Otto of Greece. The holiday was established in 1838 with a Royal Decree by King Otto's government.

A LOVE POEM

“I am hurt by love But how can love hurt? If my love is true I cannot be hurt.” - Anshul Gupta

Some years ago I read the poem “Love's Paradox” by Anshul Gupta (see here). It stayed with me, although forgotten, and it was only after I wrote my own poem below that I remembered Anshul Gupta’s poem again and re-read it. Different but similar? This poem is in response to the prompt by Poets and Storytellers United.

Love

I love you with the vehemence of sharp steel,

The blind insistence of a blade as it drives itself into yielding flesh.

My love for you, wild like the tigers of the Indian jungle,

All sharpened claws and piercing teeth.

I adore you blindly like the idol of a jealous god, gold-bedecked

Sitting on pagan altar on a forgotten isle.

I love you with the gentleness of falling rain,

The persistence of water as it soaks deep into earth.

My love for you, as tame as a newborn puppy,

Whimpering, blind and helpless.

I adore you as I would a precious icon that adorns my wall,

Reminding me to pray each moment for your well-being.

And as you come to me like a caravel laden with precious cargo,

Spices from the Indies, perfumes of Arabia, gold and jewels

And ebony from some exotic shore – 

I am diminished and yearn to yield myself to you,

To enchain me to your sovereignty for evermore.

And as you come to me naked and unadorned,

Redolent of sweet perfume that the flowers have borrowed from you,

With soft uncombed hair whose lightness is stolen by the breeze,

I seize you and enraptured I overcome resistances,

Ravishing, conquering, enchanting and in turn being bewitched.