Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Hillol Ray, D.Litt., Ph.D. (Doctor of Humanity), D.Phil. (Theology), Ph.D. (Honoris Causa), D.Phil. (Nigeria), Poet Laureate, Author, Translator, is an Environmental Engineer with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in Dallas, Texas. He is listed in Who’s Who in Asian-Americans, Marquis Who’s Who in America, Who’s Who in Science and Engineering, and Who’s Who in the World. His books “Wings of Time”, “Metamorphic Portrait” (Amazon. Com) -recently released.
Somnolent Screams of God’s Dreams By Hillol Ray
In the Valley of Golden Shadows near the Mt. Everest,
Debtors of Illusions and Pensioners of Dreams roam-
At a measureless wide-open constellation, obscurely willed,
And the sparks of recognitions are invisible from my home!
Blighted sons of Debtors and Pensioners always wonder:
Why their leery screams aren’t heard by anymore at all-
While the commemorative historic wreckage lingers,
And remains as a witness at the God’s beck and call!
Expert crooners and thwarted clerks in the valley drag their feet,
And their younger daughters remain so quiet in manicured eyes-
While the laughter of silence crawls forward softly with darkness,
And begin to nap in hungry stomachs under crimson valley skies!
Dull regrets of the past and the promise of despair breathe alive,
And the fingers upon shoulders never feel their hypnotized will-
But the feeble drinkers of “wrong water” in the Golden Valery
Contemplate that the vagabonds are now driving behind wheel!
Darkened endurance of un-avowed reprisals from the God
Hovers over the silenced eyes of envy as it seems to appear-
And somnolent scrams in the dream of a Babylonian heaven,
Than of hell, burn and remain un-sodded, without reindeer!
Fearless, meek, and unborn children of God raise questions,
And I, as a lunatic weaver of words, quiver without answer-
While my broken, battled, weary, and shamed poetic mind,
Dreams to build mansion for me, and a young disco dancer!!
“Milestone” January 15, 2024
© Copyright January 15,2024 by Hillol Ray
Star Weaver of Words By Hillol Ray
Often I dream to be the Star Weaver of Words,
For whom the global readers will eagerly wait-
And my quill will be sharper than a sword,
To bring peace without blood bath or sweat!
Drowsy and enchanted dreams will crawl,
To guard my wide -open Eastern Estates-
Abandoned by rickety falcons of the summer noon,
And their feathers will enrich my quill at the gates!
Funny limericks and sweet song lyrics from the magic quill
Love to swim in fjords of my Southern and Western Estates-
But their serenity and whisper clash in a rush,
Even though the twilight speaks but hesitates!
Cones of sands dance melodiously to sing lullaby,
From my songs, in the ears of an old happy toad-
And this Star Weaver of Words becomes too perplexed,
To decompose his composed songs in a difficult mode!
In my Northern Estates, darkling dunes brim with hymn,
But boughs of big thickets thwart off the rowdy twilight-
So my quill chases rhymes in dreams here,
And the sunset dines with the selfish night!
Purple wings of dusks flap on my quill reluctantly,
To welcome the usher of a new but quiet morn-
And this Star Weaver of Words abruptly wakes up,
To watch a lamb twisting the ears of a yellow corn!!
“Milestone” December 31, 2023
© Copyright December 31,2023 by Hillol Ray
Pallid Thirst of the Spirit By Hillol Ray
At the end of poetry summit, last summer,
I was enchanted by the mirages of Kalahari Desert-
As the host committee took me on a sightseeing,
And I couldn’t refuse the cordial offer to revert!
My witless Bedouin soul relished this golden idea,
And jumped onto the bandwagon to take the tour-
But the mirage kept me on toe as her follower,
Towards the crossings where the rivers moor!
Banks of these rivers, with breaths of the dews,
And serenity under the quiet twilight’s grace-
Made me humbled, even though I stumbled,
And I watched the sodded grass with a trace!
Upon the widowed winds around the mirage,
I tried to quench my voracious thirst-
But echoes of children without laughter roared,
And I wandered whom to comfort, me or them, first?
To me the present world has nothing to offer,
And the desert is the home of mirages for sure-
While the tears mingle with the thirsty travelers,
Across the cactus in early Spring that loves to endure!
My pallid thirst of the spirit welcomes the mirage,
In Kalahari Desert and its so beautiful around-
Where I think my life and its remaining years
Will lose me from tears without any sound!!
“Milestone” January 2, 2024
© Copyright January 2,2024 by Hillol Ray
