markets

The Eagle’s Outpost

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

The Eagle’s Outpost

Gently, I lay my hand upon a stone:
it snuggles up to my pulsating palm.
The last time it enjoyed the sun god’s balm,
he gilded nimble chariots of Rome,
and legionnaires patrolled the city walls
above the river of a thousand miles,
while olives, dates and spices glowed in piles
and glittering fabrics flowed from shaded stalls.
The halls were fashioned of a thousand stones;
so were the roads rolled out to many lands;
and all were laid by many thousand hands…
This eagle’s outpost held ten thousand souls –
A dream of dreams, lifted into the light:
I was in Dura Europos last night.

Christina Egan © 2018

Runis of fortress on hilltop in arid land, above wide river with green fields.

The ruins of Dura Europos above the Euphrates, today in Syria, in 2016.
Photograph by Marina Milella [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons.

 

After 500 poems, the usual poem about a Roman Road to start the year!

 

Quest / Suche

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Quest

The market swirls
like ocean’s foam –
The harbour bursts
to roam the blue –

Yet nothing’s real
if not dream –
And music too –
and music too!

Christina Egan © 2015Fest_des_Lebens_1970

Suche

Der Marktplatz quirlt
wie Wellenschaum –
der Hafen quillt
hinaus ins Glück –

Doch nichts ist wirklich
als der Traum –
und die Musik –
und die Musik!

Christina Egan © 2015

Very bright painting of mainly blue and red shapes on yellow.

This poem in German and English versions is dedicated to the painter Curt Echtermeyer, who for some of his work took on the pseudonym Curt Bruckner out of reverence for the composer Anton Bruckner. I hope Curt would appreciate the thought that dreams are more real than life…

Images: Das Fest des Lebens (The Feast of Life) by Curt Echtermeyer. Pastel, 1970. With thanks to Archiv Klaus Spermann. — Max Ernst: Fish fight. Oil on canvas, 1917. – © Max Ernst. Distributed under FairUse at  WikiArt.

Winter Sunrise in Morocco / in England

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Winter Sunrise in Morocco

Orange tree full of fruit and rose tree with large roses in front of high pink wallsthe rainbow scarf of the sky
stretched out above the battlements

awesome and unnoticed
by the markets which never sleep

and millions of golden roses
rolled out along the highways

in the carved and inlaid caskets
of the powdery-pink courtyards

strings of peach-coloured roses
clusters of orange-blossom and fruit

Christina Egan © 2012

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2012

You can read a German poem about a Moroccan city at In Marrakesch. The buildings and walls of Marrakesh are pink by law!

Around the turn of the year, I found it warm and sunny by day and pleasantly mild by night. In fact, people were hoping for some rain…

—

Winter sunrise in England

at the edge of the orb of the earth
a mighty web of finest twigs

painted onto leaf gold
by a master’s hand

and then the blob of molten gold
so bright that it seems to melt them too

like a favour from the heavens
like the face of a god

as if life were possible
one more day one more winter

Christina Egan © 2012

—

In northern Europe, the winter is so hard that by the beginning of spring, you may feel, even if you are not at all old, that it was the last one you reached.

In Germany, it is cold by day and by night for many months, there is snow and ice, and above all, the nights are long and the days often dull so that you may not see the face of the sun for days; in England, the cold is less bitter, but — which is worse — it reaches indoors…