Monday, July 1, 2019




the dawn blurs
under persistent rain
the narcotic still in my blood
I head toward a tedious awakening
weave between slumber
and half-awareness
try to focus
on images trickling down
into the blown rubber sealing
of the bus window –
cleft from myself
my gaze penetrates the pane
sends back messages
which I fail to understand –
I strive to give content to words
burning on huge hoardings
towering the road
benevolent welfare promisors
grin at me
with regular false teeth –
a bunch of school kids
splash momentary shades of colour
onto the grey of  daybreak
I struggle to disentangle
the now from the yesterday

at the other end of the day
on the roadside
a woman petrifies
in an endless


was not his true name
but it was penciled
on his blind window
and, anyway,
nobody cared
he lived in this cabin
next to the station
came out at dusk
for empty bottles
or short chats
with late passers-by
his coat
the same blurred tone
as his voice
though, at times,
this would sparkle
with exhilarating syllables

when they rebuilt the station
after clearing the area
some passer-by
would spend
half a thought
on Sam's whereabouts
he had chosen
the night train
for his end destination


when you grasp the door handle
touched by the seer who opened doors to the world
and you enter a house which was home to history,
you might expect a sanctuary
with gods beckoning from all corners,
and you are astounded to perceive
the frugality of the space
that sheltered the intricacy of a beautiful mind
and the profusion of a mankind devotee –

the rows of books on the shelves,
hard beaten paths to the strength of wisdom,
the plain mattress on the bare floor
breathing the humility of a life lived for the many,
the dhoti and shawl woven with hand-spun yarn
from the charkha, graciously adorning the room,
in glass cases, bits of life caught by the camera obscura
journeys, devastation, even his meet-up with Chaplin –

you leave, overwhelmed by the past turned into present,
encapsulated in history not by the sway of weapons,
but by the sagacity of path-breaking words


Dr. APRILIA ZANK is an educationist, freelance lecturer for Creative Writing and Translation Theory, as well as a multilingual poet, translator, editor from Munich, Germany and an Author of the Poetry book BAREFOOT TO ARCADIA. Born in Romania, she studied English and French Literature and Linguistics at the University of Bucharest, and then moved to Munich, Germany where she received her PhD degree in Literature and Psycholinguistics for her thesis, THE WORD IN THE WORD Literary Text Reception and Linguistic Relativity, from the Ludwig Maximilian University, where she started her teaching career. The research for her PhD thesis was done in collaboration with six universities from Europe, and as a visiting lecturer at Alberta University of Edmonton, Canada. Dr Aprilia writes verses in English and German, French and Romanian and was awarded a distinction at the “Vera Piller” Poetry Contest in Zurich. Her poetry collection, TERMINUS ARCADIA, was 2nd Place Winner at the Twowolvz Press Poetry Chapbook Contest 2013. In 2018, she was awarded the title “Dr. Aprilia Zank – Germany Beat Poet Laureate”, by the National Beat Poetry Foundation (USA). She has been an acclaimed guest at cultural events in Germany, Great Britain, Canada, Turkey, Singapore and Romania, where she read her poems, delivered lectures on various topics. Her poems and articles are published in many ezines and Anthologies of different countries.

No comments :

Post a Comment