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     Rightfully   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     Enchantment   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     Wonderment   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.   ~   Tanka   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 nestle—or pledge to the moon more entertaining wings   Ten Tanka previously published in Modern English Tanka, Vol. 3, No. 3 Spring 2009.   ~   Tanka they effervesce in cosmic cauldrons—to 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.   ~   Tanka   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.   ~   Tanka   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 melancholy—one 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.