Poem
Haris Vlavianós
THE POEM OF ANOTHER POETICS
[Variation]following W.S.
I
Crystal-clear water in a glistening vase.
Yellow and Red roses.
White light in the room, like snow.
Fresh snow (it’s the end of winter)
softly falling on the invented place.
The afternoons are returning without sounds,
without secrets, without impatient faces
Round vase.
Porcelain painted with roses.
Yellow and red.
The water – unruffled emptiness.
II
And still the water,
the snow,
once were enough to compose
a new whiteness
– more necessary than the meaning of flowers
blooming inside the cool memory of happiness.
(Your ecstatic gaze
confirms that imagination
can lay bare the memory again and again).
III
The mind seeks to escape.
This thought
(the possibility of the specific metaphor)
has been exhausted.
The roses, the vase, did not exist.
They do not exist.
The words however
keep falling –
snowflakes of a real life
in the margins of the poem.
THE POEM OF ANOTHER POETICS
![](/media/4/2542_poem_hv-anotherpoetics1.gif)
Poems
Poems of Haris Vlavianós
Close
THE POEM OF ANOTHER POETICS
[Variation]following W.S.
I
Crystal-clear water in a glistening vase.
Yellow and Red roses.
White light in the room, like snow.
Fresh snow (it’s the end of winter)
softly falling on the invented place.
The afternoons are returning without sounds,
without secrets, without impatient faces
Round vase.
Porcelain painted with roses.
Yellow and red.
The water – unruffled emptiness.
II
And still the water,
the snow,
once were enough to compose
a new whiteness
– more necessary than the meaning of flowers
blooming inside the cool memory of happiness.
(Your ecstatic gaze
confirms that imagination
can lay bare the memory again and again).
III
The mind seeks to escape.
This thought
(the possibility of the specific metaphor)
has been exhausted.
The roses, the vase, did not exist.
They do not exist.
The words however
keep falling –
snowflakes of a real life
in the margins of the poem.
THE POEM OF ANOTHER POETICS
[Variation]following W.S.
I
Crystal-clear water in a glistening vase.
Yellow and Red roses.
White light in the room, like snow.
Fresh snow (it’s the end of winter)
softly falling on the invented place.
The afternoons are returning without sounds,
without secrets, without impatient faces
Round vase.
Porcelain painted with roses.
Yellow and red.
The water – unruffled emptiness.
II
And still the water,
the snow,
once were enough to compose
a new whiteness
– more necessary than the meaning of flowers
blooming inside the cool memory of happiness.
(Your ecstatic gaze
confirms that imagination
can lay bare the memory again and again).
III
The mind seeks to escape.
This thought
(the possibility of the specific metaphor)
has been exhausted.
The roses, the vase, did not exist.
They do not exist.
The words however
keep falling –
snowflakes of a real life
in the margins of the poem.
Sponsors
![Gemeente Rotterdam](/images/logo-GR_Basis_RGB_2021.png)
![Nederlands Letterenfonds](/images/logo-Nederlands-Letterenfonds-logo-RGB.png)
![Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds](/images/logo-stichting-van-beuningen-peterich-fonds.png)
![Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds](/images/cf_logo-zwart.png)
![Lira fonds](/images/logo-Lira_fond.png)
![Versopolis](/images/sponsors/logo_versopolis.png)
![J.E. Jurriaanse](/images/sponsors/logo_J_E_Jurriaanse_2020.png)
![Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie](/images/sponsors/logo_NL_fundedbyEU.png)
![Elise Mathilde Fonds](/images/sponsors/logo_EliseMathilde.png)
![Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot](/images/sponsors/logo_VanWijngaarden-Boot.png)
![Veerhuis](/images/sponsors/logo_Veerhuis_2.png)
![VDM](/images/sponsors/logo_VDM.png)
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère