Some Paxos Poems by Jim Potts
I first visited Paxos in 1967, and I have visited the island many, many times since then. I have always loved it deeply, but this hasn't stopped me writing honestly about environmental issues and the impact of tourism on the island. My wife's mother was a Paxiot, from Bogdanatika. Most of these poems were included in two of my books, Corfu Blues, Ars Interpres, 2006, and Reading the Signs, Colenso Books, 2020.
From Ostrias Escarpment
(looking at the new road to Avlaki Creek)
They’ve opened a road
below my secret perch:
a gash across my heart.
Paxos Haiku
With sixty-four churches to choose from
there’s no need
to feel all is lost.
Saint Haralambos
Windmills,
shrines,
bell-towers,
cisterns.
Saint Haralambos
saved them all.
He repelled the plague,
he relieved the siege.
He couldn’t stop
the desecration.
The bulldozers
The bulldozers
are busy on Paxos,
waiting to ravage
more pathways,
to tear down terraces,
dry stone walling,
to uproot olive and cypress,
the carob tree, myrtle and pine
out towards cape, cliff and headland,
hidden cove and well-loved lookout.
The bulldozers
are busy on Paxos,
Ripping out roots, they advance.
The bulldozers are getting more greedy,
the ground-grabbers,
the merchants of scars.
From a changing Paxos
The derelict engine
imported from England,
made by Petters of Yeovil,
once powered the village olive press,
faithfully turned
the grinding stone
up in Manessatika.
Stamatis wants to sell it now,
his precious but rusting antique,
“from the time of
Capodistrias!”
Eremitis
No more fishing in the air,
for swallows, swifts or human souls.
They’ve built a bar by Eremitis
where people watch the sunset;
the Holy Apostles
borders it.
The graveyard dead have lost their peace,
the iconostasis
shudders.
Paxiots
Paxiots were taken
by pirates as slaves.
Nowadays
they sign up
for their servitude
freely.
(In 1663, Anastasios Bogdanos
was seized by pirates as a slave)
Lapsed pantheist on Paxos
Crystal
water – urchins – sharks?
Nature’s Bounty.
That vast indifference.
Tethering Rings
Now that no-one rides mules,
There’s nothing to tether
To the tethering rings.
(Stone rings, abandoned
Venetian house, Vassilatika)
Family feuds
When families quarrel
over children or trees
the bitterness lasts
for generations:
the feuds outlast roofs.
No one gives way
before the walls give in.
Paxiot Fisherman
Where’s he gone,
the man who ate lemons,
stood on his head, when not fishing?
Inspired by Iannis Tranakas, 'O Sparos' ('The Sprat')
Eyrie on Ostrias Escarpment, Paxos
Sunset.
Lying on a ledge of stone.
Galleon’s lookout, quarter deck.
From Sweden
to Paxos
Engström liked the open sea,
Strindberg loved the islands round –
Somewhere for his thoughts to settle.
A wooden studio on the rocks:
atelier, folly or writer’s hut?
Perfect for Paxos, for our Ostrias plot.
Below, a little inlet cove.
A dry-stone wall, an olive grove –
My outlook, And my chosen spot.
The Italian Boy on Paxos
The boy dropped the tortoise
into the bay
To see if it turned turtle.
An old Paxiot rhyme
(from the Greek)
Paxos and Antipaxos,
worth at least a dozen Londons!
Gaios and Loggos
surpass each Paris, a thousand times!
Family Tomb, Bogdanatika, Paxos
Spiridon and Vassiliki,
sleep in peace
with Saint Paraskevi.
Some photographs (illustrative images):
A friend helps clear the plot
Surveying and topographic mapping
Jankos Velianitis, The Red House, Gaios
Popi and Babis
Stamatis Boikos (
ΣΤΑΜΑΤΗΣ ΜΠΟΪΚΟΣ)
Mark Allen
My mother with Jimmie Katsaros, heading for Paxos? 1968
Strindberg's Writing Stuga (Hut) on Kymmendö, Sweden
"In Praise of Paxos", pages 144-148
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