Wednesday, March 04, 2015

The White Gloves


You can find the book at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/524218

The story is taking place in a magic forest. Little Red Riding Hood is three years older since her adventure with the big bad wolf. She is picking flowers again when she has an unexpected encounter with an old woman who needs help with her nails. Red Riding Hood offers to help but has to return home to get a pair of scissors and liquid soap.

On her way back home Red Riding Hood comes face to face with a big bad wolf. Perhaps he is the brother of the one who had devoured Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother in the story we all know. Although Red Riding Hood is fearless, she unwittingly reveals to the wolf where the old woman’s hut is.

Poor wolf! He believes that the old woman is an easy prey. But instead of the old woman the wolf finds a ewe in the hut. “All the better”, he thinks to himself. But the ewe is not daunted by the threats of the wolf. Actually, the wolf is frustrated by the ewe who threatens him with “If you eat me, the woodcutter will be very angry. He will find you, catch you, tie you up, put you in a cage and release you in the big city.” The wolf is so frustrated by his failed attempts to eat the ewe that he goes to the village and buys a lot of presents for Riding Hood.

When the exhausted wolf returns to the hut to eat the ewe, he finds the ewe knitting a pair of white gloves from her own wool. The wolf is delighted but at the same time determined to eat her. The ewe invites the wolf to sit next to her on a couch so that they watch a documentary about the bit city. Luckily, this documentary makes the wolf abandon his plans to eat the ewe and eager to go to the big city which for him looks like a “goldmine” or, rather, a “meatmine”.

But this documentary makes the wolf abandon his plans to eat the ewe and to want to go to the big city which for him looks like a “goldmine” or a “meatmine”.

When the wolf leaves, the ewe takes her real form. She is a fairy. But she has to leave the magic forest and go to the big city, too.

The big bad wolf and the fairy meet again, this time in the big city. Oh, this is an exciting meeting, beyond imagination and with an unexpected ending.



Friday, January 30, 2015

Old Game

Rain washes blood away and
time turns pain to a child’s play.
It’s all part of the old game
gods play with only one aim:
to laugh and joke and be gay
to their mortal heart’s content.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Last Wish




If I could choose my last day on earth,
I would like it to be a rainy day
And have my last breath carried away
By the sound it makes water
Running from the roof
On an empty can beneath my window.
-----------------------------------------------
© George Trialonis

Thursday, February 14, 2013

How nice!

How nice to sit in this cozy
and clamoring coffee shop,
to sip one's steaming
Greek coffee in a little white cup,
knowing and not knowing that
this shop, this happy ambience
of laughter and clatter
and all that I see and don't see will
one day pass
into the dusty chest of memories!
How nice, that shop!

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Japan

As the land turned side
fire and water tucked her well
and the mushrooms popped.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Looking out the window



Looking at distant words flashing through the window in the rain of tears.
Like faint lanterns from a ship caught in fog,
words search for eyes to enter
and mouths to exit.
O words, drops of rain spattering against the panes of my soul, resounding
chimes in the auditorium of my sparing chandlers,
you tempt me choose the rowdiest of you.

Monday, November 08, 2010

Wind swept words




The sun disappears in the north and we are lost in the winter of our silence.
Of all the return guests we welcome the snow;
It maintains heated discussions – the passion for companionship.

But there are no people here.
This space is unpeopled.
There are only vague emotions, … and the fur coat of the sun.
Memory is a drifter.

Thursday, November 04, 2010

O Greece!


O Greece, you are dead!
The blue and green maggots
That issue from ballots
To suck your blood instead

Entered your public body
Of ancient glory
And their filthy, gnawing teeth
Did your life destroy.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

For a moment I thought


For a moment I thought
It was a butterfly
The yellow and orange leaf
That took flight from the swishing poplar trees
Across my balcony.

It swayed and fluttered in excitement
Here and there, up and down,
Undecided if right or left,
To the ground or up the sky –
Should I stay or should I go?

What to make of perceived options
When you lose your wings to know
That gravity always wins?
And ultimately to the ground
With or without wings.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Ticking clocks

This world is an orchestra
of silently ticking clocks
counting down life's progress
to death and
explosive rebirth.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Daydreaming

I daydream of the star-
dusty front yard of my childhood -
the years spiraling down on their heads
between hard-working flower pots,
towers overlooking with affection
a sparkling little hand
swerving rubber cars,
the tire ruts a trail
on my mother’s tired face.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

The vengeance of the conquered

 

Whether he was after a vision or set

on punishing the Persians, or simply

acted under pressure from within,

the Great Greek, name beginning with an ‘A’

              as in ‘Bucephalus’,

could not have known that those he had conquered

would conquer back and be

              ante portas to the West,

twenty three hundred years later.

 

Enter

        Afghans, Iraqi, Pakistani, Philippino and all!

Enter

        others from the Near, the Middle and the Far East

Enter

        the swarthy from the dark south, enter all:

        the hungry and the poor,

        the victims of politics and war!

Enter Islam,

        the poor cousin from the East.

If your loins survived the boat trip,

the knees of the West will shake and tremble.

        Is this a day rape or a nuptial night?

 

See what the West has become?

A harrowing harlot.

Ruins upon ruins your dreams:

the money lenders have conquered the temple

to establish their own napalm Christianity

marching East on ‘As’ as in ‘Bombers’

 

 

Zarathustra

Zarathustra Revisited

Monday, October 26, 2009

Complacency

Pedaling in perspiration along
the uphill road to poetry,
you smile in cool complacency,
with the left eyebrow cocked to consonance,
while the sun, and sum, of technical
requirements weighs heavy on your shoulders.

Surely there’s something rattling in your head,
but Fate may one day resolve –
playful, complacent and cool as she is –
to hide from your eyes the on-coming truck
of criticism as you try to cross
over to vanity street and,
Ooops, that must have hurt!

Rise and shine my flat-headed friend!
Quit sprawling on the hot-scented
asphalt of embarrassment;
pick up your pancake head;
wipe the red and move on;
and move on!

Friday, October 16, 2009

The face of justice

In this country
The face of Justice
Is a reflection of a face smeared
With individual and political expediency,
Pervasive corruption and
The occasional arrogance and ignorance
Of public prosecutors.

In this country
The face of Justice
Is what we make of our face,
And hands.

Justice, they say.
What justice?
We’ve lost face
And got our hands dirty!

This country, which never was
Or ever will be,
Is a thing of the past,
Unless. . .

Monday, August 10, 2009

A Ship

A ship,
a ship at last!
Oh how I envy the keen keel
furrowing firmly the future
of its unpredictable route,
while I in time present
am lost
in the past of your embrace.

Friday, July 31, 2009

Again

You rise from the pregnant slime
over and over
to reward with a cereal smile
or punish with a pestilent smack
this or that man
or woman
and then dive deep in the tuberous slime
again
like a sea pen in Tasmanian
tannin waters
until
man or woman merits
the same
again.
Thus time is born.

Friday, July 03, 2009

One and Zero

It's really amazing that
From such numbers as
One and Zero -
Being and Nothingness,
Heaven and Hell were born.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

River of fire

Christianity, Islam, Buddhism ... dust in our eyes
wails in our ears, poison in our mouths,
daggers in our hearts.
Let us sit on the bank of the river of fire
and share our knowledge of water.
And when we get bored, let us baptize each other
in the air, for soon we shall become earth.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

By a Picture

For years now
I have known you by a picture which
your hands had painfully approved:
head-cover
over coal black anemone,
sad, young and milky white
chador or skin – the same,
to which picture I added in my mind
the voices of the silent sea that best adorn
your lovely lonely face
smiling from the distant shore
I-wish-you-were-here.

The White Gloves

You can find the book at  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/524218 The story is taking place in a magic forest. Little Red Ridi...