April Poetry #5

April 5 is just another day
in a year already a fourth
of its life gone. But this day
has no song, unless you want
to count the rhythm and noise
of imperial bombs sent by
the “shining light on top of
the hill”, who has always promised
the grave and the slave. April 5,
just another day where they
say all this hor…Read More

The Tenth Muse Speaks: Whispers Across Lesbos

She walks on the edge of the wind,
voice braided with sea and olive,
each syllable a spark struck
from the tinder of longing.

Island-born, where the waves fold
like a lover’s arm,
she counts the pulses of hearts
as though each beat were a star.

You burn me
my limbs betray m…Read More