Season

Circle... unnecessary, sharp objects and a scratched dress
covers the wound of your knee,
a form as humble as yours, elusive in dust
and many flies, indifferent.
Unstoppable the sword
and the words are bloody in the neighborhood,
lost torches in the sky
unable to see the grass, speechless shovels
in a hidden dreambook, which was lost in the mountain,
the steamboat sailed, oh father,
and the deftly voice of the tide
called me mortal, reminding me that I perish.
There aren’t no tired breaths, only a princess of impropriety
which sells her golden dresses in the sunset
and the little wolf shows his teeth.
Small pheasants in this blooming valley
and an owl
gives birth to fairy tales and myths in her morning dreams.
The sadness comes and goes but nothing is lost
on this peninsula
a silence in the air and the hidden key
imprinted years, beautiful painted faces
dead responsibilities, a gallows sky sharing bad omens
many rusty shields, sad songs.
Many belts cluttered in the mud and in the bodies buried,
lilies, riches of a painting, which cannot be resurrected
and all the words are searching for their author.

Fotios Panos

The Song I Sing

If you want something from me,
steal the song I am singing
because this is how I love you.
All my cares are folded like a sweater
awaiting tomorrow's chill.
My words always wait for the wind
to numb your love.
If you want something from my heart
you can take my song
and let it serenade you.
Let's extinguish the candle,
brave the cold
and fill the four seasons with our sweet love.
This will be our Utopia.
We will be one

Fotios Panos
from my Poetry Book Shakespeare in the Jungle

How many moons

How many moons can illuminate your beautiful hair
now that are illuminated by the small candle,
by the awakening of a mermaid
Mesmerizing the mortal language....
Many moons, an outstanding night, worried gazes
black utopias on the pavements and a south wind
caressing the fates of men, caressing the breasts of women,
glasses changing color due to drunk people.
How many glasses of poison can fill
the happiness of the moon
and how many women can leave their kisses
for the beloved to get free, who is walking tame
in a beautiful sea.
A smell springing from the breath of horses
and the coachman in love in the night
seeing the lost muse on the asleep tables.
How many feet can count the stars
that covering up in the robe of the sea
and not looking for nothing.
How many moons would sail against the constellation of Leo
when the boats are painted with a red wine
and a lipstick that screams to dawn.

Fotios Panos

I don’t breathe

Time passes by and the caresses are away, forgetting that you exist.
I cannot breathe away from you, but looking at the sky
and the silver of the night
I am wrapped in a vision, wrapped in the slopes of a name,
of a kiss.
Waiting and waiting, but what to expect, what to draw,
within this night I don’t see that silk kiss of yours,
that color that lightens your hair.
Let the waves could fire up the sky and cast stars,
fairytales and songs in your dreams.
I don’t want to love you, but I do.
Because, no matter how many times I’ll open my eyes,
my voice numbs and my wings cannot resist in
the weakness
that conquers me daily.

Fotios Panos

Sigh

A child counts and stops and runs,
behind him a train stops and whistles and gets lost in the mist.
The spring is gone and the color of the sky has migrated.
Here, melancholy emerges and the birds keep flying,
the trees are naked and the leaves bewildered, cracked slaps,
broken chairs are lost
and in the garbage there are no rats nor rotten foods.
The flower I used to love has faded just as my thoughts
and the small light I used to lit and I was praying in is quenched,
like the old lady I used to love.
There is no pigeon on the horizon nor cob seeds in my palms and
the cat I used to stroke caress
is lost along with the years.
Neither hello, nor goodbye,
nor a single breath in the alleys where I walk,
Nor a single aroma from neighbor’s garden.
That speech has been erased and the drunk doesn’t drink,
doesn’t dream
because the dawn has set tired.
You don’t need to get lost and hide
because your breath flickers
And your eyes colorless sigh at this walk.

Fotios Panos

Awakened Love

All summer black pigeons left,
migrated fathoms of odes in a breath.
Sand and sun burned a hole through my heart.
The sea and the woods caught fire.
I saw the Grim Reaper laughing.
Your spirit caressed the sky
and flew to Heaven.
You wept for the bleeding clouds.
Tears fell like rain from a silent cloud
and awakened my love from slumber.
Now I am breathing your air.
My thoughts of you are captured
and held prisoner by your beauty

Fotios Panos
from my Poetry Book Shakespeare in Jungle

Wings

The cobblestones were tangled up at my feet
And I collapsed in the ferns of the slope.
The altitude and the magnificence of the fern met the handshake
and I was found facing the nature and the clear skies,
until the virgin touched my eyes,
I was staggered and my friends of loneliness
brought the gaze of the mist to cover the body.
A bullet came along with my eyes, gazing at the naked mountains
and the submission trumpeted to the scent
of the dung and the wolves.
The wings of the scent touched the creation, the drought
the wells flourished, changed their clothing
and I, infatuated, harvested the sun, stopped the trucks,
just to listen and see her perfect body.
The moonlight applauded the vitality, the cold kiss of her
and slept, I couldn’t stand it, I got up
kept her gaze with me
and followed the paths of the abyss in the darkness
the lost treasure.

Fotios Panos

Temptation

Lust and longing mated in the flavor of love.
Taciturn doves in dark alleys
fell to temptation
and short-lived love clouded the night.
The baton fell from our hands
and we were inflated.
Our feet sank in a pillow.
When our kisses cooled,
we ran to the tower of escape
to welcome found love.
Stars blossomed in the sky
and the light came
and brightened your laughter
and erased the clouds

Fotios Panos

The Magic of Gypsies

Through the magic of gypsies,
flames leap and awaken my love.
I am enslaved by infatuation.
I lie in bed
and throw myself into sleep
wishing my dreams will cast off this spell.
I look at the sky and the stars,
yet sadness is my only companion.
My dreams are not tame.
They haunt my thinking.
I am waiting to see you and write you a verse
but fear teases me and time passes,
leaves fall, excess and dust continue
to castigate concepts.
My poem of love is trapped in the flames
through the magic of gypsies.

Fotios Panos
from my Poetry Book Shakespeare in Jungle

Ηesitation

Do not ever hold back the doubts
leaves them as a gift in the sky,
not to steal the smile of the night.
Waits a homesick, one bang to patch
the eyes that are full of tears of the yard.
Courtiers with plunders in their hearts
Pleasure jumping from alley to alley neighing,
Begging to follow the lips that crave.
Whitewashed houses lined up
in the war zone of storm
painted to besiege the wind,
to fill their bags with oysters.
Myrrh bearing are dying while they are casting their scarves
lest disappears the May Day of the sky
waiting for those who bring the candle on the other bank
on the other Makronisos, where you play and draw
another consciousness, hesitancy.
The ghost appeared, the villagers are saying
and the flowers are withered.
A little rain, a little water on the hair,
lest the time shortens and the wrinkles vanish.
Dizziness in the ears and fallacy on the road
a hush that brings that brings hesitancy on the compass
a breathy roar that does not mock the night.
You speak tenderly putting a crystal in the middle of the earth
to melt bitter and hateful faces.
The last bell didn’t ring,
Dawned but fate washed the face
and the sun started up to get dazzled by the little voice it has

Fotios Panos

Beach

Hidden is the pebble, hidden is the immortality of Phoenix
and the day is sunny, detached from the narthex of silence.
This beach is asymmetric with shells tied
to the bottom of the sea, with beautiful curves,
that every kingdom would envy
that every night would like to learn the secrets.
No birds fly and you do not turn in
the calm sea because you have embraced
the winter’s coat and pleasure has conquered you.
The net has no color, surrendered in hopes,
nonexistent boats but the air is sweet and shares kisses.
Untouched the footprints, untouched the mugs of coffee
that tend to emigrate
in the breath of the sky that darkness.
The stones are still, timeless, wounded by the wind of the north
and the magical marks breathing slowly,
when the carnival celebrates.
The absence of your Angel forgot the number of the stars
and you returned in to the light
that doesn’t smell travel,
there is no imagination.
All this travel it’s a wave and I’ll listen to the body that is tortured
on a mast and waits for the sunset.

Fotios Panos

Myrrh bearing Lake

In the Myrrh bearing lake dropped the blanket of the Sun
and I lay down beside her and breathed.
The vertigo that I had in my eyes faded
and the gurgling waters woke the prophecies
from the dry cistern,
from the hot bodies of the stone forgotten tears
flooded by the many beaks,
irrepressible rain turned its neck
and wept hail raising dust in her ornate hair.
In Myrrh bearing lake at night the sheet shares her secrets
and confesses love and chaos
motionless in a shallow sand counts crabs.
On her back stars drawing a face
and blond hair and night flowers blooming
dreamy colors and creeds.
In that breath falls and hillside
making aside the flavor of the weather and the throne of God
because happiness is alive.
Inside its lilies, hot coffee, awkwardly couples
caressing and kissing
and a sandy beach to sink by the blue sky
small, free clouds chasing birds and kites.
In her warm embrace the nebula of the coffee store frayed
And paranoia grows
beside two spoiled heavens.

Fotios Panos