Μαύρη Τουλίπα!

Μια μαύρη ανθισμένη τουλίπα

ήταν το δώρο του κήπου σήμερα,

πριν λίγες μέρες ήταν η κόκκινη

που άνθισε δειλά δειλά,

τώρα η μάυρη.

Περίεργη ομορφιά.

Σταγόνες στο γυαλο…

Σαν σταγόνες

στο γυαλό……

να ταξιδεύουμε…..

με έναν πολικό…..

Τι ακόμα εδώ είμαστε;

 

πολικος

Το τενεκεδάκι…

το τενεκεδάκι....

Το μικρό τενεκεδάκι μόνο περιμένει

κάποιον να το δει

να το αποτυπώσει επάνω στο χαρτί

είναι όμως άτυχο πολύ

γιατί το χαρτί

αντικαταστάθηκε τώρα από γυαλί.

Πράγματι είναι από τα όμορφα που βλέπεις σε αυτήν εδώ την πόλη…..

Αν θα μπορούσα…

Δρόμοι που διανύθηκαν…

Όλη η θάλασσα μέσα σου...

Δρόμοι και μονοπάτια

που διανύσαμε

Θέλω που έγιναν πραγματικότητα

ή χάθηκαν

Στιγμές που ξύπνησαν

αναμνήσεις

Καθαρός αέρας

να δροσίζει το μέτωπο

και ένας ήλιος

που τα σημάδια του αφήνει…

βήματα στην άμμο…

Βήματα που διαγράφουν στην άμμο

Ανοιξη και η αμμος περιμένει

να την αγκαλιάσουν

τα γέλια των παιδιών…

Μονοπάτι ή ποδηλατόδρομος;

μονοπάτι

Μονοπάτια πολλά

Δικά μας και ξένα

Για εμάς ή για τους άλλους

Μονοπάτια που θα διαβούμε

Μονοπάτια που απλά θα κοιτάξει το βλέμμα

Μονοπάτια που επιλέγεις να περπατήσεις μαζί μου…

Αυτό γιατί μας ξέφυγε;

Οσο για την παραπάνω φωτογραφία… μιλάμε για μονοπάτι με τεράστιες πινακίδες… ας σοβαρευτούμε λίγο και ας κοιτάξουμε να τοποθετήσουμε πινακίδες και εκεί που είναι απαραίτητες…

“The Lady of Shalott”

“The Lady of Shalott” από την Loreena McKennitt

On either side of the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the world and meet the sky;
And thro’ the field the road run by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro’ the wave that runs forever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly
Down to tower’d Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers “’tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott.”

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay,
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue
The Knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady Of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often thro’ the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and with lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
“I’m half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady Of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;
On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow’d
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode back to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
he flashed into the crystal mirror,
“Tirra Lirra,” by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro’ the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott

And down the river’s dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing not his own mischance -
With a glassy countenance
She looked to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn’d to towered Camelot.
For ere she reach’d upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses nigh,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
The Knights at Camelot;
Lancelot mused a little space
He said, “She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.”

Ολόκληρο το ποίημα  ακολουθεί…
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro’ the field the road run by
To many-towered Camelot;

And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The Island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro’ the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle embowers
The Lady of Shalott.

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly
Down to Tower’d Camelot;

And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers “Tis the Fairy
The Lady of Shalott.”

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;

And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue
The Knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often thro’ the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;

Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
“I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;
On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow’d
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.

From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
“Tirra lirra” by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro’ the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look’d down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
“The Curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower’d Camelot;

Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
‘The Lady of Shalott’

And down the river’s dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance -
With a glassy countenance
did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carold, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn’d to tower’d Camelot.

For ere she reach’d upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses nigh,
Silent into Camelot.

Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burger, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot;

But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, “She has a lovely face;
God in His mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.”

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson ~(πηγή :http://melodiousnick.blogspot.com/2008/09/lady-of-shalott-inspiration.html)

Μία και μόνη συνάντηση… Ρωμαίος και Ιουλιέτα.

Ο πύργος...

PΩM.
Γελάει με τραύματα όποιος δεν πληγώθηκε ποτέ.
Μα σουτ! τι φως προβάλλει εκεί απ’ το παράθυρο;
Είν’ η ανατολή κι είναι η Ιουλιέτα ο ήλιος.
Πρόβαλε, ήλιε, σκότωσε τη φτονερή σελήνη
που κιόλα είν’ άρρωστη, χλωμή από τον καημό της
που εσύ η παρθένα της είσαι ομορφότερη της!
Παρθένα της μην είσαι αφού ‘ναι τόσο φτονερή:
ντύνει φορέματα αχνοκίτρινα τις κόρες της,
που μόνον οι τρελοί τα βάζουν: βγάλ’ τα εσύ!
Είναι η κυρά μου, ω, είναι η αγάπη μου.
Ω και να το ‘ξερέ πως είναι! Μιλάει, μα δε λέει τίποτα, και τι μ’ αυτό;
Το βλέμμα της μιλάει: θ’ αποκριθώ σ’ αυτό.
Μα παραπήρα θάρρος, δε μιλάει σε μένα.
Τα δυο ωραιότερα άστρα όλου τ’ ουρανού,
που κάπου θεν να παν, παρακαλούν τα μάτια της
ν’ αστροβολούν στις σφαίρες τους ως να γυρίσουν.
Μ’ αν πήγαιναν τα μάτια της εκεί κι εκείνα
στην όψη της, η λάμψη της θα ντρόπιαζε τ’ αστέρια
καθώς η λάμψη της ημέρας μια λαμπάδα.
Τα μάτια της στον ουρανό θα πλημμυρούσαν
το διάστημα το αγέρινο με τόση λάμψη
που θα λαλούσαν τα πουλιά, σαν να ξημέρωσε.
Κοίτα πώς ακουμπάει το μάγουλο στο χέρι της!
Ω, να ‘μουν γάντι στο χεράκι αυτό, για ν’ άγγιζα
το μάγουλο της!

ΙΟΥΛ.
Αλί μου!

ΡΩΜ. Μιλάει. Ω, μίλα πάλι, ολόφωτε άγγελε γιατ’ είσαι
δόξα λαμπρή της νύχτας πάνω απ’ το κεφάλι μου,
και σε θωρώ σαν φτερωτόν ουράνιον άγγελο,
που οι άνθρωποι με τ’ άσπρο των ματιών τους από
θαμασμό
ανατρανίζουν να τον δουν που δρασκελάει
τ’ αργοκίνητα νέφη κι αρμενίζει επάνω
στο στήθος του αέρα.

ΙΟΥΛ.
Ρωμαίο, Ρωμαίο! Γιατί να ‘σαι Ρωμαίος;
Αρνήσου τον πατέρα σου, άσε τ’ όνομα σου·
ή, αν δε θέλεις, μόνο αγάπη ορκίσου μου
ι εγώ θα πάψω να ‘μαι Καπουλέτου.

Μ’ ακούς…

Σκιές...

Να σε πηγαίνω

μέσα από φεγγερά περάσματα

και κρυφές της θάλασσας στοές…..

Ακουστά σε έχουν τα κύματα

πως χαιδέυεις

πως φιλάς

πως λες ψιθυριστά το τι και το ε….

Τριγυρω στο λαιμό στον όρμο

πάντα εμείς

το φως

και η σκια

πάντα εσυ τ αστεράκι

και εγώ το σκοτεινό πλεούμενο….

πάντα εσύ το λιμάνι…

Γλάροι...

Είναι νωρίς μ ακούς

είναι νωρίς στον κόσμο αυτό

αγάπη μου

να μιλώ για μένα και για σένα….

Επειδή σ αγαπώ και σ αγαπώ

πάντα εσύ το νόμισμά

και εγώ η λατρεία

που το εξαργυρώνει….

Μ ακούς…

Σ αγαπώ…

“Μονόγραμμα” Ελύτης

Θεέ μου τι μπλέ ξοδεύεις για να μην σε βλέπουμε….

“Αξιον Εστι”