Nesreen

The tempting, dancing Nymph performs her chore,
unfolds in air, resplendently and splays
datura flow in mind her moves implore,
her vision passed.-  a wraith on thoughts, she stays.

Upon her altar sacrificial tolls,
her face, her scent, will challenge and indulge,
manipulates and in half light, enthralls,
ethereal to conquer and divulge.

Instinctive ancient dance, the crowd accourts,
she flows in veins, red aconite domain,
no fate will be as sweet - but one she thwarts -
as thousand lengths to feel of brunette mane.

And triumphant aggresses with applause,
(blade-splendid in her bedleh and shalwars) ,
unfolds her wings, a desert hawk that claws,
betrayed male minds with apathy ignores.

She dances, and her jingling cymbals rings
incursion of a deathly whiff and rye;
monotonous the Dervish siege she sings
for victims of her charm, eager to die.

© Georgios V. 08-25-2013 All rights reserved

Clubbing on

Clubbing on

The rooster jumped o'er the fence,
cause craved on clubbing on to bask
and gallivant forever, thence
throughout the day and after dusk.

He danced in classy cabarets
where birds enjoyed to fox-trot
his moves jaw-dropping as all pets
were clapping hands around the spot.

Alike a Pro he trotted on
the marble floor, outwearing all,
his Leghorn structure lithe and brawn
his stare all chickens to enthrall!

Thus, dancing, he became a thrill
upon the jazzy floors and decks,
inspiring hens to use their quill
on poetry where art reflects!

© 2016-01-02, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)

Carnal Prayer (Primrose)

Carnal Prayer (Primrose)

The clockwork ticks transformed to fog and air
while dusk absorbed the beacon's blinking signs,
- surreal and indefinite designs
with tangible his steady flash and flare;
beneath the kind, retentive cloak of chance,
- he breathed her in, her aural scent and glance.

Inside the tavern sea-men ordered drinks;
amidst the tulips of the hazy smoke,
he felt the night with the owls' persistent croak,
and lady Sadness on the starboard brinks;
Invisible the night descended slopes
in quietness with dark, elusive scopes.

Her primrose scent - ambrosian sorrow's gate,
remote Paradisos and range of soul
perfumed her whiff surpassed, and burned like coal,
he clenched the glass and drunk the dark drink straight,
the tumbler shattered - deep inhaled her scent,
- with unrelenting his blood thrash torment.

The night was dense; inside the mists he drew
with red drops dropping from the deep palm cut
a wraith, she vanished while her louvres were shut
the nightfall's emptiness inside him grew
caressed the heavy door, its luster stained
the primrose scent inside his mind ingrained.

And she descended - Nymph the fates had graced;
betimes he breathed the scent of night primrose,
same carnal prayer and adytum disposed,
her sacrosanct of pathos' splendor traced;
with flash reflecting in her eyes' domain
the primrose scent dispersed inside the rain.

© 09-07-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(five sextains, sestines or sestinas  - Iambic pentameter)

The maid of brines

The maid of brines

The flag was waving on the stern;
she stared saluting and the mist
my face on forecastle, coldly kissed,
- she tried my figure to discern.

The Adriatic was that night
half covered by a cotton cloud,
- endowed the night's adorning shroud
and took our ship afar, forthright.

A ghostly ship, a ghostly log
- the maid of brines had left betimes
addressed us with the sounds of chimes
that rang accordantly in the fog.

Harmonious her song had welled
from depths, unearthly was the verse
that lingered in our minds' rehearse,
bespoken words, beloved and held.

Her image standing on the bow,
in dark my solitude enacts,
while shooting stars on earthward tracks
induct to quell by ocean's draw.

Our recklessness, the route defines
and nautical endangered role,
I know it's wrongful to recall
our bicycling and coastline pines.

The ghostly ship transports us there
attending to the deepness' shrine,
how beautiful the dewdrops shine
and grandness of her seaward fair!

© 04-21-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)

Ευνίκη (Eunike)

Eunike

The honorable senator of Rome
Petronius, a handsome man of wealth
for whom the poets kept respectful gnome,
that contemplated about the State's good health
like God was worshiped by the sightly maid
- Eunike; whose devotion was unpaid.

Unanswered her obedience and love,
uncherished were and, thus, transformed to pain;
tormented her young senses, made her rove,
- alone confessed, her flesh needs to abstain
- his handsome thus admired and marble bust,
apprised her instincts, highborn and robust.

Evincible, unrequited pleas,
the maid exalted to the sovereign sire,
his despotism she served just to reprise,
thus punished by the whip for her desire,
accepts the lashes whispering his name
with deponent her dedicated flame.

The punisher was ordered to beware;
not to cause scathes upon her perfect skin;
her sire's ingratitude could not forswear
the burning tears she shed, for was a sin
to disobey her master's potent will
- infusing lashes deftly to instil.

Alone, Eunike, stares at his stone bust;
his handsomeness could cause a sun's eclipse;
oh, may the Fates, milleflorus, entrust
their gifts upon his brow and much loved lips;
her arms embracing him, the maid's face couth,
shall osculate the marble bust's cold mouth.

© 09-07-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(5 sextains, sestines or sestinas - Iambic pentameter)

Zuzuni on the badlands

Zuzuni on the badlands

Montana's muddy badlands spread for thirty seven miles
along a cleft of sandstone bed, eroded years before;
the chestnut paced upon the grass and well worn aisles
and I wore two new Walker Colts, of gauging forty four
beneath the noon light that defines but also eyes beguiles.

An anchorite, some years ago, upon the ridge of Grapes
where monasteries in the clouds are reaching out to God,
I learned to draw and shoot amidst the fog's white waving drapes
and prayed until the time was ripe to abandon this abode,
cause solitude was molding deeds, constringing, thus, escapes.

I saw them waiting on the trail; three bandits stood apart:
Coyote Chit, Cheesecake Labif and Mambo-Jumbo Crock
with cross-tied low their pistols stood, assumptive and upstart
bemocking fools who patented their e'er noetic block
that teachers, tho', could not explain; not even wise Descartes!

My shots intended at their guns, the hoisted hammers broke
I ordered them to start the dance that turns the clouds to rain
the land was in compelling need, as turf and plants evoked
the sympathy of Heavens that magnanimous ordained
the good ol' boys (and volunteers) to dance the rain's refrain.

Coyote was allowed to dance a prominent gavotte
meanwhile Labif's romantic soul preferred a marigold
but Crock's mazurka hence untied the nimbus' Gordian knot
and rain began to pour upon those who the skies extolled
heroic men were meant to be, defining, thus, a blot.

Zuzuni, the Algonquin chief, had noticed this ordeal
and marveled at the outlaws forms, that caused the skies to rain
in order so, to buy the fools he offered a good deal
fourteen strong horses for each man, who danced to ascertain
that rains returned upon the slopes and also on the plains.

© 2014-10-15, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/zuzuni-on-the-badlands-2/
(Iambic heptameter)

Her Soul, The Sea (The Ship)

Her Soul, The Sea (The Ship)

The shadows deigned in precise sequence
where skylines have conducted fore the ship,
its blackened sight to boss the thought and sense
of sailors that imagined its long trip.

The Northern wind was cutting like a knife,
injuriously, messages behowled,
equilibrating on the brink of life
of the foregone to seas, the thinking prowled.

The ship's black smoke ascended to the skies
from supercilious tall funnels, smog,
bestowing sacrificial offing size
to sovereign Gods who lived inside the fog.

The tidal and enshrouding foaming spills
advanced the dusk, advanced the bawling horn's
unearthly sounding out; the flowing rills
retracted in the sea its crying mourns.

In front of us, the ship's displacement thrilled
approaching magnificently the moors;
Her Soul the Sea, an eulogy instilled
inside our minds and souls, where faith adjures.

Pristine the sea, baptized the scene in depths
where psyches stay in canted-over keels,
deceptive were the reasoned-out percepts,
infused where our catastrophe conceals.

The night descended when the ship's steel gaze
examined curiously and measured me,
proposing wedlock and a fate of blaze,
my competence, demanding, in the sea.

Across the Straits, young lady Sadness kissed
with ripping cold my twenty years and eyes,
resembling Her Soul, the Sea, amidst
the howling Northern winds and my demise.

© 2013-10-15 G. Venetopoulos All rights reserved
(Iambic pentameter)

To the Halls of light

To the Halls of light

She waited on the skyline - bloom, and thorn
an ointment of vows and thoughts, at night
annealed recited entity - vows sworn
- the brave ascended to the Halls of light.

The bullet traveled in the frozen air
companions loved - his stare embraced the ferns
- the laurel and green sage ascribed his fare
his spirit chose the route of flying ernes.

A lantern flame her thoughts - on peaks, beseech,
ornate the winds, surpass the granite plate
denounced the corteges and oaths to breach,
her highness' steps, adorned demise, third fate.

And in the mists when winds bemoan in pines
their solemn words have fled from slopes to brines.