"Sea green eyes and golden tresses
Light a Grecian maiden's face
Child of Pericles's city;
Sadness of young years confesses
Lending her a native grace
And she demands no pity.
"When Trojan horses granted in the gate
Hold that which I possess, with other markings
Self-murder is the burn, and no nightmarish achings
Beautify the dust of a mirage's makings..."
This was to a friend of mine in Athens. It's not finished yet.
I want to try and get published when I have a collection of a few hundred poems... am I good enough?
Here are some more stanzas I wrote, unrelated:
"Have far and wide enough about the Soul
I journeyed by my Mortal Mind to see
The tributaries that had guided me
Impoverish inside a miry shoal?
Has amply taken been my journey's toll
On Head and Heart of mine for me to be
Absurd Quixote or a debauchee?
My mended inner shreds do not make a whole."
And finally this one's rather mediocre but hastily written. It's about Neda, the protester who was shot in Iran.
"Oh but how the lovely martyr's spirit dangled,
Loved a death of crimson and a sunbathed memory
Though her lovely features writhed and mangled—
Mangled by a steel and murderous finesse,
Though it breathed a deathlessness into her loveliness.
I am burning came her piercing wail,
Blacksmith's flying sparks to our sword of memory—
Inferno that my heart and nations' hearts entangled,
Silencing her body—but to no avail.
When heart's blood gushed over cheeks so lovely pale
It sealed the fate and promise and the memory."
I know poets are a dime a dozen, but am I really any good that I can think about getting published?
Also, is it possible this plain old-fashioned style could get more readers? Most poetry seems free verse, but also cryptic and ill-read.
Light a Grecian maiden's face
Child of Pericles's city;
Sadness of young years confesses
Lending her a native grace
And she demands no pity.
"When Trojan horses granted in the gate
Hold that which I possess, with other markings
Self-murder is the burn, and no nightmarish achings
Beautify the dust of a mirage's makings..."
This was to a friend of mine in Athens. It's not finished yet.
I want to try and get published when I have a collection of a few hundred poems... am I good enough?
Here are some more stanzas I wrote, unrelated:
"Have far and wide enough about the Soul
I journeyed by my Mortal Mind to see
The tributaries that had guided me
Impoverish inside a miry shoal?
Has amply taken been my journey's toll
On Head and Heart of mine for me to be
Absurd Quixote or a debauchee?
My mended inner shreds do not make a whole."
And finally this one's rather mediocre but hastily written. It's about Neda, the protester who was shot in Iran.
"Oh but how the lovely martyr's spirit dangled,
Loved a death of crimson and a sunbathed memory
Though her lovely features writhed and mangled—
Mangled by a steel and murderous finesse,
Though it breathed a deathlessness into her loveliness.
I am burning came her piercing wail,
Blacksmith's flying sparks to our sword of memory—
Inferno that my heart and nations' hearts entangled,
Silencing her body—but to no avail.
When heart's blood gushed over cheeks so lovely pale
It sealed the fate and promise and the memory."
I know poets are a dime a dozen, but am I really any good that I can think about getting published?
Also, is it possible this plain old-fashioned style could get more readers? Most poetry seems free verse, but also cryptic and ill-read.