Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

how can i tell you the story of my heart
pull up a chair come sit with me
through my eyes, the things i see
the dreams and the dreams that fell apart
how can i tell you the story of my heart

the wind blows through my days
like leaves they scatter
and what is left
i've no idea
what will become of me
will there be someone in my arms
will my bed remind me of you
how you turned and walked away
like morning's mist in the sun
the bouzouki plays and plays on
retsina like blood it pours
memories that dance, they spin
like chance and then depart
how can i tell you the story of my heart

my youth escapes from me
like a fool i dye my hair
a pallikari who has lost his knife
i stumble and lurch
i call your name and am mocked
by the echo of my desires
i dance in the taverna
a man possessed that has lost his past
i want to feel your lips against mine
i want to sing you songs of the war
those dark times in hadairi
poems scratched on the wall
i knew you would wait for me
and that once more we'd be
together, oh how could i be so wrong
there are no songs now that we're apart
how can i tell you the story of my heart

how, indeed, but how you have
retsina after retsina

thanks judih.

it seems you have done so easily..smile.

Always love your writes Constantine..


m

thanks, perdida. happy new year to you.

each time I read this it paints a most striking still life in the gallery of my thoughts. good write, Dino

"how can i tell you the story of my heart"

this poem tells me quite a story, dino... a very heartfelt story.

thx for sharing.

thank you for reading it.
welcome to the site, bardmaster

how can i tell you the story of my heart
pull up a chair come sit with me
through my eyes, the things i see
the dreams and the dreams that fell apart
how can i tell you the story of my heart

constantine...i love the invitation like a celebration of your life even if not perfect. this verse makes me want to crawl into your minds eye, curl up under a throw and listen to stories of a life lived while sipping a cup of soup...

thanks. your reply makes me want to join you!

it's your eye mr. dino...so, plenty of space on the sofa...

Indeed there is a rawness here I really like Dino...although your spinning top of whirlyness is in here too....carnivale woe...very much dig this.
H

thanks hester. when i went to baltimore for christmas, i hung out with my mom who is always watching greek tv - especially the greek music programs. the rembetika-style of the taverna really connects with me - it is the blues - i can feel it on a blood-level. the poem attempts to mimic the themes and style employed by these wonderful artists.

There are so many layers and textures to this I will have to read it several times before it all seeps into the fine human soup it is...Thanks.

thank you, artguy. i'm happy that you enjoyed it.