My Gray Hours (Sonnet)
My heart races touching your deep Spirit's kiss,
The softness of your voice soothes my abyss.
My tear's curb crumbles greening my shrink cry.
My soul torn apart wondering to know why.
Wrong thoughts, so cruel wait the fear to tape
The terrors of love to give them a new shape.
And my loneliness is a shadowy yard
When to sink my reality it's so hard.
In murky ponds of suffocating tadpole
I jag my edges tearing my sad soul,
Which once is tied with bleeding strips to yours
Will twist my fate with the flick of my gray hours.
I wait my hope which will never come to be.
This hope hunger squeezes tighter my soul's knee.
I'm clinging to the past where I want to hide
That part of me that is still alive inside.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Night Vision Over A Living Planet
The air is very heavy,
Hard and sharp,
Because of the interplanetary forces.
A rolling stones rain is falling down,
While a huge planet is completely covering the sun,
Making everything around be swallowed
By a great darkness.
Only sharp bright lights pierce the sky
From time to time
To trigger big fires.
''The stone which the builders disallowed,
The same is made the head of the corner, ''
A terrible freezing wind
Is following the darkness,
That kind of freezing wind
Killing or biting everything is alive.
Time stops running,
And nothing can move on that living planet,
Because of the interplanetary forces.
People, who live at the sea shores
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Primordial One
The Primordial One is immanent, while He’s never transcendent
And this existent world, at the beginning, was only His vision.
The Lord has Being to create his vision-world without lightweight
For this real world of Becoming, with His meticulous precision.
At the beginning, we were His imagination; we were a reason for creation
And, only for being with Him, He made us, in time, to become so real.
Tower of Babel wasn’t an illusion, when people suffered tongues confusion,
God isn’t an illusion in our perfection, when His plans He wants to reveal.
We are in our Apollinian illusion, when we think that God means confusion
And our own perfectionism we try to reach in the mean time.
But in the reality of our Apollinian confusion, God is no longer an illusion.
In this ache of Being and in this agony of Becoming, He’s sublime.
To reach our perfection we sing a hymn, we need to be with Him,
Because when we are not with Him, we are in the illusion of Being.
Without transmogrifying us, to transfigure Him, sometimes, we have a whim,
Because we need to understand our illusory own perfection in wellbeing.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Human sacrfices (Rituals) \\\\\\\^^^^^^^
Mentioned in Rigveda, more exactly Soma Mandala
Means praising with some energizing qualities,
And a ritual of drink, also treatment of asthma,
We find it also at later Vedic and Persian cultures.
Ephedra sinica containing ephedrine is a Soma plant
Used as a drink in both Vedic and Zoroastrian tradition,
'The building up of the fireplace performed over-night'
Is Atiratra Agnicayana as a Srauta ritual of Vedic religion.
Attested in the Yajurveda Samhitas, its mantras are in Brahmana
With a bird-shaped altar as a building of bricks, which a hard work requires
With various shapes like mahavedi, uttaravedi, dhishnya and drona
This 'sacrificial altar' in the Vedic religion has a sacrificial fire.
As adhvaradhishnya is an altar at Soma, where something is sacrificed
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Sarwar Chowdhury, the poet from Bangladesh
I'm telling you about Bangladesh, a wonderful country,
Located in the Bay of Bengal, on its northern coast,
Between Brahmaputra and Ganges, a triangular territory
Extending eastward to embrace the Surma River Valley...
In the northeast and southeast, having low hills of soft rocks.
Its ubiquitous Panthera tigris, known as Royal Bengal Tiger
A ferocious big cat, in fact, which is nice and very grand
The national animal, finding always its royal home here,
In the pristine mangrove forests of the Sundarban land.
For hunting pig, antelope, young elephant, and deer.....
With tropical monsoons, combining Dravidian, Persian,
And west European cultures, Mongol, Arab, and Indo-Aryan
It has a national bird, the doyle or the magpie robin
Changing it’s voice, breeding territories jealously guarding,
Unobtrusive each non-breeding season, nicely singing...
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Help Me
I love David, but he lives so far away from me. In
fact, he lives in his own world and I know that he
doesn't know me. I saw his picture in a book. I know
I'm not existent for ‘im, but I love ‘im so much. He's
existent for me. I want to meet ‘im to make this love
become real, but I read all his books and I know that
I have no chance. Even so, I still want to do this. I must
hide my intentions, firstly. Yes, I know what I have to do.
I'll send ‘im a letter writing that I want to meet ‘im for
a different reason. I‘ll lie. He will believe me. It ‘ll be an
ideal lie. Slowly, I can become his ideal woman. In time, I hope
that he'll fall in love with me. Apparently, the feelings of
love will come from ‘im, and I'll be that person needing
time to think about this. My thoughts will ne'er be an open
book for ‘im, because my little lie can fail. I can play this game
all my life ne'er letting ‘im discover the naked truth. I can hide
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The bird of paradise
The King of Saxony bird of paradise is a male
Black and yellow with brown iris, aqua-green mouth, grey legs,
With two enamel-blue brow-plumes. It seems to be so frail
Guarding its grey- brown female with chicks emerging from eggs
This wonderful bird is named in honor of King Albert.
A German king, devoted to military affair
Re-building Saint Afra School in Meissen like an expert
Proclaiming constitutional his monarchical chair.
He was a great Knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece
And a Grand Cross of the Order of the Tower and Sword
Arbitrating between the claimants of Lippe for peace
He was a very wise king constantly moving forward.
Birds of paradise or Pteridophora alberti
In montane forests of New Guinea guard and stay
Their diet consists of fruits, arthropods and sweet berries
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Snow-White (Part 1)
Hers were the beautiful blue eyes and the black long hair,
She watched her blood dropp freezing to burn in the air.
Her pale lips were keeping the mark of her love's glow,
She wanted a child having the skin as white as the snow,
The hair as black as ebony and the lips as red as the blood.
That red on that white looked as beautiful as a flower bud.
She was sewing and watching the ebony of her window's frame.
An angel became visible in the air to tell her the child's name.
''Light up this love, my Lord, and give me this child of light
Unbearable is this pain of mine, light up my soul and my sight.''
Coming up the stairs, the king saw this and he told his queen,
'This white angel is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen! ''
The queen's heart used to be like a little book being unread,
But in front of her husband, it has become an open thread.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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The mud volcano Lusi
The world's largest mud dome, also called the mud volcano,
Is located in Sidoarjo, a regency in Indonesia and it is very active
It had erupted also on twenty nine May, only five years ago
Now it gushes forty Olympic pools each day being very emissive.
A mud dome emits helium, nitrogen, usually belches of flammable gas
Through a deepening lake of hydrocarbon fluids, acid water and sludge.
The temperature is as low as the freezing point for its fast-moving mass
It's associated with petroleum deposits looking like dark brown smudges.
The creeks transport amounts of sediment to rivers which flow into the ocean.
This time the Indonesian volcano displaced thirteen thousand families.
For saving their lives they had to leave their home being forced to run
They needed to escape, because the volcano showed an increased activity.
This volcano eruption will dropp to a manageable level in twenty six years,
And Lusi will continue to gush gray mud until it will turn into a bubbling volcano,
And the processes erosion will begin to bevel the mountain but until that the tears
Of people will not stop for those who were killed after Lusi erupted five years ago.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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Salome
Salome, the unique daughter of Philip of Rome and Herodias,
Was the stepdaughter of the ruler of Galilee, Herod Antipas,
She wanted to find for her mother's problems a real solution
Therefore, she caused to St. John the Baptist a painful execution.
This saint had condemned the marriage of Herod Antipas
With the divorced wife of his half brother Philip, Herodias.
Herod imprisoned John, but feared this great prophet to kill,
Because to become King Herod the Great he had a goodwill.
Herodias was not mollified by great John's incarceration
And wanted to induce Antipas a great mental state of elation.
She pressed beautiful Salome to seduce him with her dance,
Thinking that her smart daughter his emotions could enhance.
Salome made him to promise to give her everything she wanted.
Dancing the 'Dance of the Seven Veils', her beautiful figure she flaunted.
Salome, thus, asked for the head of John the Baptist on a platter,
At her mother's behest, for whom nothing else could ever matter.
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poem by Marieta Maglas
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