Spiros Zafiris, CA




Selected Poems from

The Journals of Spiros Zafiris




The Rest


a river of peace
will wait
until the dark clouds move on
before it reveals its splendor to the sky



Fret Not


fret not, O lilac,
a tune will free you too
the sacramental bread awaits the devout
lilac, stay, this moment





clasping a dream to add to the dreambox,
a wounded soldier offered a smile
to a lady passing by
"My wounds will heal; I've seen it,"
he sang to her, still clutching



Tusk Of Majesty


irrevocably tainted
by grotesque murmurs deliriously gasping
he blazoned a tusk of starlight
and, in a trice,
only solace greeted him





O the comforting
unencumbered steps to her wisdom
and her dear heart; more exalting than
any blissful walk by truthful candle flame,

each moment of this enchantment





aloof bedazzlement,
sincere discombobulation
the wizardly embrace, moored to starhearts,
bespoke fruition; enlivenment supreme
--never to be denied, such comfort




More Clarity


when whispers of discernment
entwine themselves to ephemeral willingness
to please and make right,
is there a loftier circumstance,
a nobler position



Blue And Radiant


blue and radiant,
a halo round her heart—
there it stands, for angels to see;
a constant reminder of her virtue



Bells Were Told


bluebirds wished to help
the deserving heart, sadly grieving
bells were notified to ring;
to clear the air
with pleasant chime


"More Clarity", "Blue And Radiant", and "Bells Were Told" were previously published in Mike Rehling's Short Stuff...circa 2003.






dusk in their eyes
suddenly finds reprieve
when an owl
disturbs branches
and the moon startles them with light



call it effervescence,
the lilac's lean for
parting rays
new raindrops meet
disapproval and an inward pause



nighttime quivers
make us run to our shoes
and the pants
we jump into
take us to a den of thieves



at the campus,
they dare not embrace
an alluring bench
to rest their old legs
these sauntering alumni, suddenly shy



O lyre,
do not mermaids sway
and clouds part
for a grateful moon
when her lips greet mine in half sleep



his eyes absorbed
the epiphany's call to
meld with roses
to dispel all dark clouds
with a petal's calm



the confluence of
will and might neath the pillow,
in his viens, shimmers
as a new dream enters, to
enliven his weary heart



the radio will
soon confirm the earthquake; it
howled through my ears
as I slept and, ruefully,
I await the specifics



tears will fall
to caress a smile's glimmer
and watch it fade
for more tears to follow
emptier still



our handholding
makes onlookers smile
as larks above
or pledge to the moon
more entertaining wings


Ten Tanka previously published in Modern English Tanka, Vol. 3, No. 3 Spring 2009.





they effervesce
in cosmic cauldronsto leap
with frightful legs,
these pangs of lightning
already gone



it must have been a rose
to send the death rattle's
zigzag bolt back
had it traveled one more instant,
through my lips, I was done for


Previously published in Ink, Sweat & Tears, January 22, 2010.






snow will soon
cover the streets
and children
will make snowmen
with noses larger than the moon


Previously published in Magnapoets issue 5, January 2010.






at first, I thought
her radiance was happenstance
some shampoo
may have done the trick
but she always glows; she sparkles



thirsty myrtles,
lest your equanimity be darkened,
I'll pray it rains
will a forthcoming kiss
first learn of my loyalty



unbeknownst to me,
her severe mental illness
she would unleash
the you're my father syndrome:
the I must kill yous; the you're hims



I reach for the surf
with delirious toes eager
to remember...
a starfish's graze
and a coincidental mooring



our embrace
even startles birds
in its profundity
sonorous chirping of
a higher pitch, the plum result



O vocal chords,
you always deliver
there is no other
only one I love; you
faithfully remind me



the calendar
confirms it is not mine
still, I assuage her
on the phone--and bless the birth,
despite our ripples of calm wailing



they were crusted tears
I palmed a few and they rolled
like tiny marbles
weightily, they awoke me
she was due from another



into the pewter,
a sprinkle of lavender lent
each dusk
of ages past--will my love
outlast such sacrifice



a rose's scent
is frequented more
popular, too,
is a daisy's charm:
these favorites of soldiers



falling leaves sustain
a bleak sadness, only until
they are embraced
by the mirth of every wing
drawing their kindness upwards



then, a sombre
melancholyone last leaf to fall
to bypass the mist
of forgetfulness and
stand a mirror of regret



her garden inspires
each lady from these parts
to saunter and wave,
hoping a cheerful approach
is worthy of roses



full moons
escape from our lips
when we sing
astrologers keep wondering
how marvelous this expanse



falling on them,
the leaves make smile a grimace
a glare finds deep repose
this quiet, whirling power
entices breath and core



is this a gentle breeze
or the remnants of a far off
bullhorn's wisp,
once the startling
succumbs to familiarity



About Spiros Zafiris, CA


Spiros Zafiris is a 60-year-old Montreal poet..he has self-published 2 books of poetry, Very Personal and Midnight Magic (1979/1981)..his more recent poems can easily be found by googling his name...he has been published in several periodicals, including Modern English Tanka, though he doesn't send out his poems as often as he should.









to the top



Copyright 2006-2010 Sketchbook and  All rights reserved