Monday, November 10, 2014

Gazing Upon An Icon Smuggled Out Of Russia

Assignment: “Try your hand at writing a few lines of ekphrastic poetry.”

Byzantine Christ Pantocrater,

Judge of humanity,

I wonder what you have to say 

Of those who snatched you away?

How did they dare?

What's more, why should I care?

Your hair is centrally parted

And you are bearded.

Your eyes, stern and austere,

Pierce my every gaze

And though it is not I the thief,

Somehow I am afraid.

Captive in ornate frame of old,

Your countenance is half-hidden

By metallic screen of gold.

With one hand held forth

And cyrillic scripture in the other,

You seem to be admonishing me.

Did you hang first in the palace of a tsar,

And was his adoration of you used

To expiate sins against a peasantry abused?

Suddenly there abound in my mind

Thoughts of century-old injustices 

Of every kind.

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Paradise Lost - Ode to Old Age

Had it
Lost it
Stopped trying to find it.

Had it
Lost it
Overstayed my welcome?