Glow

A setting sun

makes faces glow

it reflects

on the passing day

sparkles sand

makes sea shine

lingers on the surface

of earth

makes it golden or pink

before it disappears

leaves colors

temporarily

dangling on clouds

brilliant

in its display

worthy of audience

____________________

dVerse prompt to write a quadrille using the word glow

Photo on the beach Pine Cliffs in the Algarve, Portugal

Glow

The Ear of Dionysius

DSCN0813

 

The Ear of Dionysius

echoes through history

of plots to kill the tyrant

voices that echoed

against the chamber

deep in its prison walls

hard to stop the madness

echoing beyond throat

of the oppressed

when democracy ended

 

Across centuries and waters

(now leaving Sicily)

the history of Albania unfolds

fifty years of dictatorship

when clergy and poets died

political opponents

enemies of the state

under surveillance wherever they go

executed or imprisoned

hear their echo

 

________________

dVerse prompt on the word echo.  Legend of the cave of Dionysius being a prison and the voices of the imprisoned were heard plotting because of the remarkable echoing of this cave.  In October, I stood in the darkness of this cave and practiced my echo voice, then a tour bus group came in and started to sing.  I know there is more to this poem than I have here -how history echoes into the future.

The Ear of Dionysius

Burial Urns

The tomb urn is big enough to hold a body. (It is another way to bury the dead in ancient Sicily. We see them in the archeological museum.) I am climbing over an adult-sized one trying not to break it. When I get to the top, the urn falls forward and moves down a small hill. It does not break so my relief is great. A girl comes to help me to move it upright and to set it in a new place. I know this dream is about death. How the burying of the dead has changed since the beginning. Now I can choose my burial in an ecopod much like the urns of Sicily. I will know the falling of the vessel that takes me away. That it is there ready to receive me.

Burial Urns

Figs

I am sitting here eating sun-dried Greek figs, small, seedy and light skinned fruit. What variety of fig is this one that is so little and sweet? It is an Adriatic fig, pale yellow and sometimes called the white fig when it glows in the bright sunshine. It is brillant red on the inside and extra sweet, considered a dessert fig served with crème fraîche or mascarpone cheese, ice cream, or plain unsweetened yogurt. Or even better a sheep milk yogurt if you can find it.

Remember the fig tree that did not bear fruit? How it withered and died in the ground. “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.”  

Now whenever I see a fig tree I look for the fruit. I want to see that the harvest is coming, or that it is here. Right now.

__________________________

dVerse prompt on season and using the quote “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.” from Louise Gluck’s All Hallows.

Figs

Ferry to Santorini

Seajet fast ferry

from Crete to Santorini

looks calm at the dock 

People file in

tourists

a soccer team

Five minutes out

waves plummet the vessel

children squeal with delight

A few more hard punches

bow rises and thumps hard

voices shriek 

Advice comes over the speaker

stay in your seats

mind your children

People start reaching for barf bags

you can hear a child puke

too late for the bag

Too late for Dramamine

all the team 

starts barfing

The crew is busy

handing out more bags

cleaning up messes

The children’s delight

turns into horror

some are crying out

I get my bag ready

It’s been awhile since I had motion sickness

now most everyone has it

If we are halfway there

no use to turn back

keep on going

Crossing the Sea of Crete

not even a storm

just some waves

Women and men tend to the children

I don’t know how they manage

when I move I barf again

There is a lull in the puking

stomachs have emptied

a rest from the vomit

Those who thought they could make it

raise their hand for a bag

their countenance broken

Quiet is disrupted now

with the sound of the dry heaves

deep from the guts on the vessel

I want only to hear that we have arrived

I search the horizon for land

I hold on so I don’t pass out

Grown men have been barfing too

some tried to make it

destination just too far away

Finally the crew woman speaks

we are getting close

what joy to my ears

The vessel enters the port

announced on the speaker

a boy yells hallelujah 

Calm returns to the water

ferry stops bouncing

ashen faces move to the door

One man is carried off 

on a support chair

to a waiting ambulance

Ferry to Santorini