Elegy of an Unusual Peak

Foreword

While meeting a poetess, enthusiastic with writing poetry, the poet would develop an engaging dialogue with her in discussions about styles of poetry writing and their respective preference of personal styles.

While AyAy, the gifted poetess and short story writer had evolved through Classical Greek education, Zen, her poetry friend touched on expressing himself through poems, since his early teens. While AyAy had won runner up in a National poetry competition in Greece, Zen had been studying architecture, with a weighing interest in art and expressing himself through the medium of painting.

AyAy taught him about the development of expressing himself through abstract ideas, while he admired the work of Odysseus Elytis and surrealist poet Andreas Embirikos, AyAy admired the poetry of Georgios Seferis. Their interest brought them closer together romancing through their poetry they wrote for each other.

Interested in eroticism, experiencing it through their love for each other, both lived through times of thriving inspiration that took them through an exchange of their childhood to growing up into adults experiencing love in many shades, from romance to gender and multiple level loves. While AyAy abstained from writing in more detail about her experiences in love, Zen like to express his emotions not solely on the canvas, but also in words. Love poems, written for AyAy touched her cousin and also Zen's friends. Through Zen's love, AyAy started verbally to free herself from the traditional taboos of a society that had a rich source of artists and poets, who expressed themselves freely. Though Embirikos novel of the great Eros had been banned by the Greek Orthodox Church. Well, bans on erotic literature existed since a long period of time. Even Nikos Kazantzakis novel: The temptation of Christ, had been banned by the Church. I found it an inspired read. The port's fantasies spurned on by their love for self-expression meant, an enormous output on artistic lyric poetry by Zen, long time after AyAy had stepped into the 'Big Void'. He'll be always grateful to have lived through the highs and lows of having met with his star crossed partner in love.

Most of the times I serve the

day, starting with a ritual.

Sunday's are quiet here

you think -

and the sound of a police siren

interrupts your sleeping time

you do not want to wake into the

rigmarole of brushing teeth, shower

scrub the itchy skin with the

long-handled nylon brush that restarts

your blood-flow, makes you swell-up

skin, tummy, thighs, phallus and feet.

No use to think.

Who'll take an ageing poet into her

tender arms, keep him warm and

sated

longing for sweet penetrations?

Only AyAy. Nobody else?

The poet's Ka - two hands in the air

indicating a sign of giving oneself up

would mean: his other part

a ghosting partner,

AyAy's return from afterlife

herself quite astonished, pale

exhausted from a long ride

genie from the ithyphallic symbol

rendering me all her strength.

If you love sex and eroticism

she says,

come along and have it forever

across the universe.

Love is the universe, I said.

You've obviously read my recent

quotation:

Love is the universe

the web its pulsing vein

that's where we meet and touch

that's where our juices flow

(zoltanzelan)

Indeed, your words have now

eternity for me, she gasped.

Let's do the ritual, she said,

sit in my lap: I love this way of

having free movement

she pulls my pants off

and settles like Isis on Osiris -

do you see her green face?

In symbolic meaning, green is

for death, tour leader in Egypt

Mohamed said.

I know that, it's the 'green death'

that haunts us. I replied.

You must go, she said, and don't ask

questions, just leave for the place on

Naxos, Lesvos, Samos, or the long

Island of Crete, you take your pick.

I will, I said in need to write about

this dusky woman from Samos Island

who ventured into the land of love

as all pretty women do, sensual and

primed with poetry, she started on

her own odyssey: Samos, Athens

NYC, where most Greeks have

ventured to at one time:

The US of A.

He had noted their difference in

birth dates, seven years her senior

he had never thought meeting a

woman, whose path crossed his

on earth, as it had crossed already

on the big wheel of the heavens.

And he wandered back in time

watching her across the seas,

the Milky Way - Nile of the skies

grow-up and walk in her best dress

on Sunday mornings, along the

quay of the island, cute, alert with

dark brown eyes that glowed with

a thirst for knowledge, testing one's

integrity and intelligence, see how

you do blush if I touch you, she

joked and laughed, a tomboy in

a girl that reached independence

at such an early age.

Iwatched her from the opposite

window, her face engraved into me

I've been fascinated, every year

as I came for holidays, but wanted

finally to stay at the time of leaving

my heart sunk into the hollow of

my tummy: I want to stay, I said

to my Mom and she smiled. Maybe

one day you can afford it, now it's

time to go back to school.

Mom seemed concerned and one

day she saw me gazing at the dusky

girl that matched my walk and kept

pace with my running, the friendship

extended, teaching me a new

language, not only Greek, but the

language of love.

Iwake with a head filled with sounds

of the lapping sea - o Chrysos -

she said and smiled with an open and warm

face, drawn close to mine.

Zeniechrysos, she utters - golden Zenie -

calling out the second time aloud

her eyes grown wide and shining

pulling mine toward her, my hands circling

her slender waist, we gazed together

over the sea, toward the coastline of Turkey

that rose in the background like a faded dark

curtain, pulled aside from the window

of a misted up sea, rising like a hump whale

we intended to hook onto our fishing lines.

One day he'll bite, I said to Ana and it'll

be our greatest catch, if not the century.

We rushed about the squares of Vathi

once I would hop onto a bike Mom had

hired for me, so I could follow tomboy

Ana everywhere, as she, immersed into

the local scene, yet taciturn and keeping

our friendship secret, and she prided herself

that nobody knew, even Mom had never

met her, but her other friends, who were

tourists. You are Greek, she said and

pointed to the letters I wrote down for

her as Mom's maiden name. I taught her

the western alphabet, and she taught me

the Greek. You are Delta, I said and smiled

having found a letter that suited her.

No, she said, I am Alpha, ok I said and

I am Omega, and we laughed.

The palm trees waved good-bye at

Pythagoras' Square, his bronze figure

with entangled hands of a thinker and

in thought I entangled mine, for I had

no answer for having to leave.

You don't have to go, do you?

Ana sensed my apprehension, reflecting

the great thinker and my withdrawn

mode, sadness creeping into my

eyes and with an cowering pose I sat

in the corner of the square, watching

her from angles of my averted eyes.

I'll never go, I said, but for now

I have to accompany Mom for

home. She flung her arms around

me, hugging me and her lips

touched mine for a moment.

Electrified I held onto her, but

she weaved from my caress and

cycled away, swaying and upset

not as she always did before.

The sea seemed darker, inky and

clouds had gathered. I felt a jolt

of stabbing and head down, I rode

my bike home, cleaned it, to return

it to uncle Kos, who smiled with

gaped teeth: Zenie you did all right

he said, come again next year?

Sure, I said, can I have it again?

Yes, he said, I'll keep it for you.

Thanks Kos. I went head down

up the steep street to the place

Mom had rented for us.

Icould have sworn, I saw Ana's

face behind the blushing bougainvillea.

Ana, I said, Ana is that you? But then

the image of her dark tussled hair and

glowing carbuncle eyes had vanished.

I attended my last lesson in Greek with

Aunt Athena, who taught me at her

Villa Hera also mythology and about

the temple on the hill and the sacred spring

in the wooded patch of the knoll behind

her villa. Next time you and I will go

there, she said, and her fleshy hand

stroked my...