Saturday, May 1, 2021





Humpty Dumpty Innamorato


Squirrels love hidden acorns

the sky yarns for small birds

just like a kid loves stairs

a crocodile craves the monsoons.


Actors love black outfits

houses die for gardens

a laptop needs a church organ

and a cemetery some real estate.


Everybody needs an artificial friend

everybody waits for a black cloud

some rain to wash down things like

sins, regrets, withering yellow leaves


Paintings hate to love their frames

divine inspiration likes fruit on the ground

just like a song recognizes itself

when everybody else just happens


Shoes love wild rose trees

the night can't forget her first lover

it is when biblical thinking wears you

a downhill cheese roll to Dante's lab


Every beach defines one passing

a date of a goat and a rooster in Samara

plates on the hips of timeless eggs

you promised to rescue me, I think you did


Years and years ago before voices echoed

reverse strolls in the forest

the scratching of furry shadows burrowing

was a miracle regretting its conception


You promised to rescue me, I think you did.


Placid feathers longing for a shoulder

I loved you like a black dove next to a swan

You promised to rescue me, you did.





The pouch is heavy

tells me the little one on the tree.

I see them as they flee

and turn my stare as hers

as fire tunes my instinct to a threatening, reddish roam.


silence for an eternal moment, and there I see.


No creature around really moves anymore.

No jumper jumps.

No devil dances and grunts.


I see their smiles condensed

condemned to eternal pity.


I see their palms firmly closed

and I see tails bending.


Can I hug you?

Asks the little one,

Can I hang on you, be a pouch for a while,

a grandfather to my own little one,

this thing without fur

that breathes the pink mist

from its tiny bloody nostrils?


Can I run?

I ask my self in disturbed tranquillity, can I jump?

Can I carry something of my own at last?


We are out of the bush fires before I know,

but I rush back inside the smoke

jumping and growling

and I am forever more

-a marsupial-

for as long as my thick nostrils breathe.




My Eye On A Drone


I removed my left eye

attached it to a drone


Wi-Fi controller

left down there

in my hands

attached to my robotic body


at the patio


on a square pole

a screen on the controller

may the sun my guide be.

“who controls who?”

I was in reverie

gazing at my physical version

“an eye for an I

Or a yew for a you?”

I blinked to the anticipating cloud



[nail presses button

fingers hold stick]


-take off-


Vertigo for a second

Ecstasy for eternity.


Birds fly by,

they see my eye as a friend

I know for they don’t bite

I can tell because they smile

up there they can do.


Some fly away

is it the noise,

is it my haste?

The chase against the winds,

my awkward balance, could it really afflict ?

“Hey, you down there, keep steady,

I wanted a flight of an eagle

not of a hummingbird!”


So I rise higher,

as fingers obey

and press stick to the edge.


But what I see

from up here

shimmying the stratosphere

is that down there

life is not the same

as I’d thought.

People are not seeking,

they are being sought.

I see shadows behind the buildings

I see unhuman creatures in masks

I see the ground swelling

and bursting, alas,

spitting out sub earthen blood

when no one there walks.

It is the dawn and decay

it is the building of invisible walls



In fear I call my hands to press

the button that spells ‘land’

to reattach my eye to my body

and forget

for my sake

but I hear a digital voice

an order of sorts


and I look around me again,

I’m flying in a flock of drones

and we are carrying bombs.

who misled me,

how could I’ve been such a fool,

at this point

I’m very much sorry to say

those were no birds


the cloud that had been waiting

for all the “you’s” and “I’s”

was –indeed- black.

© C. R. Tsiailis



CHRISTOS R. TSIAILIS is a Cypriot Author. He is an English teacher, currently a candidate for Masters’ degree in the theory of theatre. His passion for writing consumes most of his time, when he is not out training as a triathlete. He travels a lot, recording memories from everywhere, which he incarnates in various literature genres.  His publications include short stories and poems in literary magazines and anthologies around the world. He has received numerous prizes for his short stories, theatrical plays and poetry. His work has been translated in many languages. He is the author of "Throwing Dice On A Chessboard", 2010, "The Green Divorce", 2012, the sci-fi novel “Klotho Surfaces”, 2016 and the short story collection “BREAD”, 2017. He is occasionally a member of Panhellenic literary contests’ committees. He has translated poetry collections and individual poems for magazines from English to Greek. He also serves the theatre at the position of assistant director and as a dramatist.

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