MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES, ESSAYS, SHORT STORIES AND POEMS

 

FOREWORD

"MY JOURNEY WEST"

Select Poems by George Pararas-Carayannis

Aristotle said that the object of poetry was pleasure. And when he used these words he, doubtlessly used them in the widest possible sense: poetry to include the full range of man's creative imagination; pleasure to encompass everything from the baby's first chuckle to the philosopher's cry of delight at apprehending a new facet of truth.

To me poetry has been the expression of pain, pleasure, love, agony,
truth, and wonder. It has has been a brief summation of the endless experiences of a difficult but wondrous journey. A journey that started east from where my sun rose , and has traveled westward to the direction of its sunset - while searching for rainbows on obscure, less traveled roads.

So, with an occasional and rare lyrical inspiration, but always with genuine philosophical curiosity, persistence and sincerity, I tried to give meter, music, and some relevance to my search for personal identity and for the great spiritual and sensual values of life - as I saw them subjectively - during my continuous metamorphosis over the years.

Like many before me, I pondered and agonized about the hard and merciless fate of life's unavoidable erosion, ultimate finality and the great uncertainty beyond. I searched for the universe and its Creator, but I found no answers, only more questions.

Then, at the other end of the spectrum, I detached from subjectivity, and laughed and entertained myself with the antithesis, humor, wildness, insanity, contradiction and the aesthetic realism and order, of this wonderfully-structured, universal chaos. So, with a sequence and choice of words that suggested rather than explained, I tried to create for myself and to verbalize the moods and allegorical visions of this aesthetic realism.

From the vast storeroom of almost forgotten personal memories and experiences, I drew images, thoughts, visions - in an effort to grasp, understand, judge, reconcile, appreciate, amuse, and finally accept. Sometimes I cried, and more often laughed as the truth -my version - or the beauty of a moment, were captured or revealed by verse or thought; as myths of my imagination became subjective and tangible; as dreams and nightmares took flesh and became overwhelming realities.

And by writing, I became more and more vulnerable and addicted to these images. A growing process you might say, a synthesis and decomposition of my inner self, inspired from bitter but, also, happy moments, when I found the temporary salvation and strength my soul needed to continue this wondrous "Journey West".

 

 

I have written these poems for very selfish reasons.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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