The white crayon neglected by everyone
The lowest in the box.
I am an innocent daisy surrounded by weed killer.
I Grow with the Sun and shrivel when disturbed by fungus.
The egg in a carton that you will crack for personal need.
The stick of creamy butter, fried to nothing when placed in a sizzling
pan.
Others are a harmfully written message in an envelope but I am the
whiteout that shields the reader.
I am a ripped out page in a notebook with wasted potential.
But I am not trash, a wrinkle can be ironed, a fold can unfold, and a tear
can be sealed.

The Promises You Wept
By: Know Now

Is it your pleas
That I loathe?
You weep and
Wail as you cling to my legs
Pleading with
Your hazel eyes.

Your cheek
Meets my knees as
You drop to yours
And wail
As if you’re praying to
God.

Is it the lies that you cover
In promises
That I despise?
You whisper your promises
Like a prayer that’s heard,
But not answered.

Your words are slathered in honey
And swarm with bees.

desire is a quote of desire
desire is destined a quote
time and space is time and quote
time and space is time quote time
time and space is time quote a quote
a quote is a quote of a vocabulary
vocabulary quote a vocabulary

time and space is a vocabulary of a quote
time and space is a saying of a vocabulary
a saying of a vocabulary is a saying of a quote
a saying is a saying of a destination
a destination is a saying of a destination
destination is a phrase of a destination
destination is a phrase of a saying

destine destine a quote

These are my English translations of poems and epigrams by the ancient Greek poet Callimachus aka Kallimachos. His surviving poems come from various sources including the Greek Anthology and the Garland of Meleager. The epigrams of Callimachus were so admired in antiquity that they became part of the school curriculum.

For Gail White, who put me up to these translations.

Here I lie, Timon, hateful as ever;
curse me as you go, but please go, wherever.
—Callimachus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Here Saon,
son of Dicon,

I tossed a pebble
in a placid lake and
caused roaring ripples
in the vast oceans;

I blew softly on the
breath of a passing breeze
and spawned raging storms;

I gathered high mountains
in a warm embrace
and set their hearts ablaze;

I scratched on the face
of the earth and gouged
these deep canyons;

I kissed the setting sun
and sent tremors through
the core of the earth;

I encased the remedy for
all the ills of  mankind
within the sphere of nature;

I replicated
the laws of the universe

SOLITUDE

Solitude offers one the time to think
To try and get all the ducks in a row
Without any of that noisy distraction
When concentration is easily broken
As if common sense had not spoken
Never to even recognise satisfaction
As fast concedes the benefit of slow
And in the chain, finally see the link

But sometimes a dam needs to burst
To release it all, both good and bad
Thoughts that had clogged the mind
Like wading in the brown sticky mud
That may be left behind after a flood
Nor to inevitability, ever be resigned

Each sip good treat
makes time tick slo
think of full tea cup
fair trade and ideal

Just a thought too
for faraway farmer
they toil in the soil
fair share fair dos

People who work
very hard indeed
and truly  in fact
fair play to them

Those who get by
only barely at that
at home n abroad
lets all be fair now

Think of those lost
rich, poor, outside
pain effects us all
be fair  be gentle

Listen for de cry
for help the one
who needs love
fair play to them

There remains in a remote corner of Asia
A mountain with inky roots.

Its age shows upon its icy brow
Like the rings of a tree trunk.

Some say this mountain is home to a wrathful sky goddess.
Others the abode of a reclusive god of destruction.

And still others believe it to the very point
Upon which the universe turns upon its axis.

No one has climbed this mountain.
The government does not let them because it is too
“Religiously significant.”

But I think no one climbs it out of fear
That Nietzsche was a true prophet.