dimitris varos
poetry | phyllis

"The bridle of rage"
Bookstars Publication

A pagan dance   Phyllis

Red fire glowing
in the sweet smelling night
giving off captive senses
and dismantled memories

Timeless pictures
flickering in front of my eyes
Pagan pipes and cymbals
rouse my ears
On the drunk mountain of Parnon
the daughters of Achelous and Evrotas
set up a wild erotic dance
All naked, scented and fired with desire
they call Hermes in their company

Whatever I think
whatever I yearn
is under the threat of a punishment
There are too many “prohibitions”
and I have a rebel in my mind


The flowers you brought
from the mountain
they smile through the jar
showing with grace their colors
totally unsuspecting
for this terrible thing
that happened to them.

Like the kids that playing
with their mobiles
in a train running
without a driver
aiming to the edge of the cliff

Someone was heard saying
“It’s not a nightmare, my friend.
It’s a reality”
and everyone laughed

I wish were true
the miracles and myths…
To come to embrace you my country
such as Demophon embraced Phyllis
to see you blooming again

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all images & writing © Dimitris Varos, 1995 - 2017