A Sun that kills

 A sun that kills ….

     Fahrenheit, one hundred 

                                   and twelve degrees. 

           On deck, away from home 

                                      and no one sees, 

           how the sun of the Persian Gulf, 

                                      is burning my head, 

           and that of life at sea 

                                       I feel half dead.

           Arabian Golf, loading crude oil...

           I do dream some day 

                                      of walking on solid soil,

           able to breathe air 

                                     without noxious gases,

           without vapors from

                                     crude oil and molasses..
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* Extract from "The Broken Mooring Line", an experiential poetic work 

by Odysseus Heavilayias. / page c19-20/ e-mail: od.heavilayias@yahoo.com /
Language adjustments and text adaptation Kellene G Safis,
Digital adaptation and text editing Cathy Rapakoulia Mataraga____________________________________________________


The Tales of a Greek Sailor