A strange vagabond.......
Within you is your native land.
So search none other, never more depart.
You are never homeless in your heart.
As one might surmise from viewing my writing, i'm far more of an appreciator of great poetry than i am an exponent thereof.
My name derives from a combination of genetic ties to the Greek island of Crete and geographical ties to the great United State of Maine.
I believe poetry to be the most genuine of art forms. Although it is easy enough for anyone to scribble a few vague lines and name it poesy, true appreciation of the genre is strictly a labor of love.
Among the literary food ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Cretan Maineiac Poems
Baseball: Opening Day
Muggy today, a pop of the mitt, a whiff of the grass, swish of the bat in the April air,
Crisis nags like a baying hound at those who wear it as a crown
The offer never ceases to be tho i strike it down relentlessly
Know Holds Bard
To fix a headlock on a metaphor, or clamp a full nelson on a
We open our Eyes only because God
1986: Rebel's Lament
What of the knowing wind of Hendrix on vinyl songs of silence lately branded for our own good?
.The Illness Industry
'I got to the Doctor's office, ' Scarlett said, 'and THE FREAKIN' PLACE WAS CLOSED FOR THE NEXT FIVE DAYS! ! '
Water Lily I Met At Work
No thorns, limbs sashay longly, cheetah walk toward no prey, footloose, her dark blond hair
.O Pateras, The Good Doctor
*for my father* You look just like him, some say, that
Ted Sheridan, Warrior
Ted Sheridan fought for our soil he woulda' done it just for oil.
The Pic You Sent
Since then you’ve ground my sincerity like an old smoke under your heel, scoffed
The General's report on the surge takes a back seat to Britney's
The pine tree rained needles and ants upon the Somali and me,
Disconnected: For T
No reaching out no touching No more punching out the numbers
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Baseball: Opening Day
Muggy today, a
pop of the mitt, a whiff of
the grass, swish of the
bat in the April air,
and two little words: 'Play ball! '