Painted Beaches


And the painted beaches glitter still,
Flashing first, an empty water bottle glistens plastic
In sympathy with naked suntanned torso,
                    Almost Greece.

The Iliad, translated, tells: how Homer died,
On Ios isle;…
Safe with wild goats, and donkeys;
Comforted by Aphrodite:
No more!

Sea is flowing, washed with lotion;
Cresting waves: supporting litter;
Crash to shores ..awash, with rucsacs;..
Echo mountains:.. whitewashed;.. dirty!
                    ‘Sordid parody…
                    Of ‘Dionysus’.. festival!!

Revel,.. in filth!...

On the foothills,.. of Olympus,..
I :..have rested,in the shade of ‘vines’;..
And heard the cry, of ‘pure’ bazouki…
Vieing,.. with the night's ‘cicadas.’?..
                    There I found Greece.

On a fashioned wooden saddle
Sat a maid of mystery,
Dressed in sackcloth black and burning,
Whistling tuneless as she passed me,
                    Tourist tanned.

One quick snap of shutter broke her reverie
Of peasant calmness,
As a nature watcher captured, shattered
This old Greece,
And still she sat, and smiled, safe
                    From cultural absurdity.