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The Promise of Eve
The Promise of Eve
The Promise of Eve
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The Promise of Eve

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LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateMay 25, 2004
ISBN9781465323040
The Promise of Eve
Author

Sy Hakim

He and Odetta Roverso were married in Vicenza , Italy in 1970. Sy Hakim earned his MA in American Studies at New York University (1960) and continued graduate studies at various universities. He has been listed in “International Authors”; “Writers Who is Who” and other professional journals. “Sy Hakim is a humanist, interested in . . . a diverse civility and the ethic search into the story of myriad civilizations and religions.., he fulfills the obligations of his subject and forms.., a validity combined to sustain his expressionistic (humanistic and poetic) concept...” [S. Maugeri, Italian Critic] Sy Hakim is an American Artist and Poet who has lived much of his life in Italy. This accounts for the many classical allusions one find in his works, both art and poetry. In addition to publication in various magazines and journals, he has published collections of poems (The Promise of Eve, 1994) and two plays. His first collection of poems was published in 1970, the same year of his first one person art show in Italy.

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    Book preview

    The Promise of Eve - Sy Hakim

    THE PROMISE

    OF EVE

    Sy Hakim

    Copyright © 2004 by Sy Hakim.

    Poet Gallery Press

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the written consent of the author and/or publisher.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    This book was printed in the United States of America.

    To order additional copies of this book, contact:

    Xlibris Corporation

    1-888-795-4274

    www.Xlibris.com

    Orders@Xlibris.com

    24325

    Contents

    ON JOGGING…

    DESTINATION

    TIES

    PSALM

    ABSTRACTION…

    ELOHIM

    CITY SKY: THREATENING ARRIVAL

    THE PROMISE OF EVE

    ENCOUNTER

    EURYDICE WAITING…

    ON THE RIVER, MINCIUS

    SAPPHO AND HELOISE…

    MACBETH’S CASTLE

    ELEUSINIAN CAVES

    METAPHYSICS

    THE FIRE OF GOD

    GALILEO’S TOWER

    REFLECTION

    MULTIPLICATING SUNS

    THREADS

    THE ABSTRACTION OF NUMBERS: THE DYING OF ONE

    APRIL, 1992

    PAVIA—MARCH 89

    16 AUGUST

    CANTICLE

    CHARON’S SONG

    THE WHITE BALCONY

    THE AMBIGUITY OF THE 1

    The following works are reprinted with permission:

    Macbeth’s Castle          Broken Dreams (1992)

    Eleusinian Caves          It’s On My Wall (1989)

    Galileo’s Tower          Dan River Anthology (1998)

    Pavia—March, 89          Older Eyes, Younger Tongues (1990)

    Canticle               Dan River Anthology (1991)

    ON JOGGING…

    At 68

    it doesn’t much matter

    how much you run—jog—

    slow jog—up the hill and down,

    or where around the town:

    at 68 your stomach rounds,

    rolls over the waist band

    of the grey sweats—even Armani’s,

    this in spite of the uphill pull, sweat-drenched,

    or the before or after stench,

    or the length or type or style

    of the bend or flex:

    exercise doesn’t exorcise physical time

    or its accumulating affects.

    At 68 is not to be 18:

    the attempt, the offset is combatant—

    a competition, maybe with memory,

    perhaps earning a slight delay, a space—

    a pause—a breath of grace,

    but at 68 there is the grey

    beneath the hair-band, and the face

    grey of the beard even shaved

    to the skin, or grown and trim

    in a pseudonym of wisdom:

    this is the slowing of the way;

    still I insist—persist in the race,

    the slowing pace of jogging up the hill

    and running down.

    68 just is not 18—paced—

    or it is, mentally; but reversed:

    accumulated knowledge are lessons erased,

    memory is dimmed, diminished;

    reflexes—all are rehearsed;

    once built bulk and muscle begins to dissolve,

    breaths come more shallow,

    more slow to come to norm

    within the remnants of a once proud form;

    only the self mind-image remains;

    the thought of youth lingers, stains,

    and self delusions of passed time retains

    a once, once self proclaimed; but fears,

    fears dulling dissipates illusions and memory’s years.

    There is no maturity in youth—or age,

    at 18 or 68, no greater comprehension—

    only a correspondence, an anticipation with fate:

    wisdom is only in the knowing, the tension,

    the accumulating recognitions; the hoard

    time has passed is merely passing images stored;

    neither

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