Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Hillol Ray, D.Litt., Ph.D. (Doctor of Humanity), D.Phil. (Theology), Ph.D. (Honoris Causa), D.Phil. (Nigeria), D.Litt. (Morocco), 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.
Web Links:
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/hillolraypoetry/e
https://bwesner.wixsite.com/awards-2016-to-2030
Along the Rose and Lilac Bushes
By Hillol Ray
At leisure, I walk along the rose and lilac bushes,
In the velvet awesome gardens around “Milestone”-
Calm, austere, aloof, and commanding Nature whispers,
To my elephant ears and intrigues my delicate bone!
More precisely than a fawn, across the sodded lawn,
Shakes the morning dews on my visionary eye-
And the bewildered and restless quill, at her own will,
Tries to sip Chinese ink from a bottle left behind to sigh!
“Desolation” is a tenant of “Milestone” in Shiva’s Landing,
And always harps or horns that soothes my lunatic heart-
With a joy, like a pennant does around my neck,
And lends a look to share a form of an antic art!
The lawns of “Isolation” amaze India Wharf,
And her bitten lips resemble beads of Japanese coral-
This makes me chuckle to stare closely at her,
As she never makes her anger virtual or oral!
With the onset of sunset, things slow down @ “Milestone”,
And the brooding evening becomes an ardent chapel-
New guards march and come in at the main entrance,
Where the garden is fenced with flowering apple!
Prayer for world-peace resumes and lies unembarrassed,
Asleep, and somnolent near the star-gazing Orchard grove-
And I am haunted along the glowing rose and lilac bushes,
Where I relinquished my quill as my treasure trove!!
“Milestone” February 19, 2024
© Copyright February 19, 2024 by Hillol Ray
Brewed For the Thirsty Throat of a Sherpa
By Hillol Ray
Every Spring, a Summit starts with a bang @ “Milestone”,
With friends/spouses assembled from the global nations-
Culture and language widely vary but run in unison,
Followed by the foods and professional altercations!
Dress codes prohibit no one at the Summit,
And the drinks or liquors have no bar-
But the attendees behave to remain sober,
And mingle with own spouse of his or her!
With lingering gesture of a female lover,
A bachelor Nepalese Sherpa joins the fun-
Perchance the flowers of Spring suavely melted,
And fragrance opened his eyes with her on the run!
Infusions of Darjeeling tea were reserved for British,
Or well-brewed for the throat of a thirsty Sherpa to tilt-
And my soul became refreshed, but mouth grew muter,
Better by far than the golden spoons of Krugerrand-built!
Imprisoned in a crystal glass, or translucent as a dream,
The Summit enchants each attendee in every year-
Like the uncounted pebbles of the sea, gray, brown or black,
And the delegates flock @ “Milestone” to muse and cheer!
The Summit wakes up the neighborhood communities,
With rants and raves of the Westminster’s chime-
As if the tea is brewed for the throat of a thirsty Sherpa,
Hailing softly from Nepal, just in the nick of time!!
“Milestone” February 20, 2024
© Copyright February 20, 2024 by Hillol Ray
Wild Wind’s Whistling Lash
By Hillol Ray
My Bedouin life bathed in symphony and cacophony,
Like the George Strait’s music down the vibrant string-
And I ceased through a breathless hush,
Etched in Summer and waned in Spring!
Of my ascending prayers to God for quick relief,
Answers poured in via the startled crimson sky-
While I sensed the wild wind’s whistling lash,
And plunged in terror down in mountain high!
In infinite remorse and moan of my lunatic soul,
The tears danced or went through a rock and roll-
And taught me how and why of all things happened,
And stood behind me to withstand the obvious toll!
The upset skies taught me to live in compassion,
And I made them learn a tolerance well for sure-
But my anguished spirits, like the bird Nightingale,
Revolted against my lips when I learned to endure!
Through the cool mornings of every single day,
I love to raise my quivering voice on truly high-
And lay my weaving fingers on the heart of God,
While I pray, and pray, and pray under open sky!
Instant tears roll down my cheeks,
With a fragrance and eternal flash-
Then I simply wait to adore a golden moment,
And cherish an old wild wind’s whistling lash!!
“Milestone” February 12, 2024
© Copyright February 12, 2024 by Hillol Ray
