Chris Zachariou Poems

Waking up from a drunken stupor
she looks around her shabby room.

Ashtrays full, plates piled in the sink
...

impish fairies
bait the child
with handfuls
of red berries
...

The poet with unbridled thoughts
and the scent of fledgling sparrows
on her lips
rides bareback to the river
...

For many years now I live alone
in a tiny single room by the canal.
I have no photographs on the walls
there are no books on the shelves
...

In Alfacar
under the melancholy
shade of a cypress tree
the guns are resting.
...

Rise to the dizzy heights
my cherished one.
Dream the dreams
and think the thoughts
...

Our only reality— words
their beauty the lovechild of minds alike.

Now a new world is dawning.
...

Men with God on their side
fly high in the burning skies.

Napalm death pours down
...

I see their names carved in stone
on marble crosses with roots of bone

trees dripping with death and tears
...

A fierce wind scorches Cordoba
tonight
lewd and shameful like a voracious lover.
...