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"Poet divin, lumina fara moarte m-ajute-n grai iubirea-n veci fierbinte cu care pururi ti-am citit din carte" Infernul - Dante Alighieri This is me for forever One of the lost ones The one without a name Without an honest heart as compass This is me for forever One without a name These lines the last endeavor To find the missing lifeline Nemo - Nightwish Last dance, first kiss Your touch my bliss Beauty always comes with dark thoughts I wish... Wish I had an Angel - Nightwish

4 poezii, 0 proze

Stefan Ciobanasu

Which way is the right path, as I stand upon This chaotic crossroads of hate... How many ways are there to roam On this dark and damned road of fate... "There are many ways, my son, to find where the souls of demons remain...But it takes only one second of despair and of doubt Until at last, your soul, they will gain... Inherit these lands, these things, these dreams That are yours, forever, to adore... For there is no life, in the depths of chaos, my son, For you to explore... C. Vincent Metzen - 'The Initiate' All I ever craved were the two dreams I shared with you. One I now have, will the other one ever dream remain. For yours I truly wish to be. Nightwish - Ever Dream

2 poezii, 0 proze

Fred Moramarco

Dr. Moramarco is a Professor of English at San Diego State and the Editor of Poetry International, an annual journal of new poetry published there. He is the co-author of Containing Multitudes: Poetry in the United States Since 1950 and Modern American Poetry, and co-editor of Men of Our Time: Male Poetry in Contemporary America. ,,I\'ve devoted a lot of my life to poetry. Reading it, writing it, writing about it. In her wonderful novel, \"Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant,\" Anne Tyler writes, \"There ought to be a whole separate language for truth.\" I think there is such a language--the language of poetry. Poems create the miracle of connecting our inner lives. We live in a world where the language of advertising, commerce, and politics are so filled with falseness, deception, and manipulation, that we have an absolute longing to hear words spoken from the heart, with clarity, precision, and authenticity.``

2 poezii, 0 proze

Dan Iordache

Am imigrat cu familia in Québec, Canada. In tara am fost traducator, profesor de istorie si engleza, fotoreporter si jurnalist. In Québec, am reluat studiile de arte plastice, am obtinut un Certificat in Artele Visuale. Din 2002 sunt artist visual profesionist iar din 2003 predau expresiunea artistica (in special pictura acrilica si acuarela).O parte din ce am facut se poate vedea fie pe www.artsquebec.ca (ca Ion Danu) fie pe id.sito.org/yan. I've immigrated to Sherbrooke, Quebec, Canada, with my family. In the old country I was a translator, a history teacher, a reporter, journalist and such. Here, in Quebec, I've did all kind of odd jobs and studied art until I've found my last job as an art teacher (and freelance visual artist). If interested, you can see what I do at : http://id.sito.org/yan/ J'ai imigré au Québec avec ma famille. En Roumanie, j'étais traducteur, professeur d'historie et d'anglais, photo reporter, journaliste. Au Québec, j'ai étudié à l'Université (j'ai une...

5 poezii, 0 proze

Radu Contes

The beginning of my childhood was profoundly marked by one of my grandfather’s passions – literature. For him reading, living, the writings of so many did not seem to be enough, so he began writing his own stories that still echo in my memory and in my heart. I remember that one day I went to him and asked “What are you writing about?”. Looking at me for only a second and returning his eyes at the ink stained notebook he answered: “My life”. Regretful, I confess that that was the last dialogue we had. After that I began reading, reading everything he was writing. Two years after his death, I had met someone who changed everything. I stopped reading and began writing myself. It was such a new feeling. It seemed to be never ending. It still feels. Since the first time, you may think I am exaggerating, but it really was the first time I saw her when I felt this sudden urge of writing. Words like “Thank you” seem meaningless compared to the things that you have done for me.

2 poezii, 0 proze

Nitu Alexandru

Nothin much , just another soul :) . Hope you'l enjoy my work and i'm looking forwoard lots of comments :)

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Keiko Imaoka

Beginner\'s Mind (Keiko Imaoka - Tucson, Arizona) I cannot be sure when I first became aware of haiku and tanka in my childhood in Japan. They seemed to have existed for a long time in the perimeter of my awareness, undifferentiated from proverbs, mottoes, aphorisms, and song lyrics that were phrased in similar forms. Sometime during my grade school years, \"Ogura Hyakunin-Isshu\" (\"Ogura Collection of One Hundred Tanka\", edited by Teika Fujiwara around 1235) became known to me as a New Year\'s card game, in which players compete to capture shimonoku cards (100 cards on each of which the last half of a verse is printed, spread out on the floor in front of the players) that finish the verses being read aloud. At abacus school, where we played this game at every new year\'s party, my prowess in the game improved dramatically when I was in the sixth grade, after I had memorized all the poems with my tenth-grade sister who was required to do so in her archaic grammar course in school. I...

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Karl Shapiro

Karl Jay Shapiro (10 November 1913, Baltimore, Maryland – 14 May 2000, New York City) was an American poet. He was appointed the fifth Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress in 1946. Works Poetry * Adult Bookstore (1976) * Auto Wreck (1942) * Collected Poems, 1940-1977 (1978) * Essay on Rime (1945) * New and Selected Poems, 1940-1987 (1988) * Person, Place, and Thing (1942) * The Fly (1942) * Place of Love (1943) * Poems (1935) * Poems 1940-1953 (1953) * Poems of a Jew (1950) * Poet: Volume I: The Younger Son (1988) * Selected Poems (Random House, 1968) * Selected Poems (Library of America, 2003), edited by John Updike. * The Bourgeois Poet (1964) * The Old Horsefly (1993) * The Place of Love (1943) * Trial of a Poet (1947) * V-Letter and Other Poems (1945) * White Haired Lover (1968) * The Wild Card: Selected Poems, Early and Late (1998) * Coda: Last Poems (2008) Autobiography * Reports of My Death (1990) * Poet: An Autobiography in Three Parts (Chapel Hill:...

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Geo Mihali

Last but not least i'm off the leash reach for your masterpiece Feel the release from the phantom bangs you Snatched off i'll put you in a frame and hang you Comin' at you're village from a different angle

2 poezii, 0 proze

Iñigo López de Mendoza

Don Íñigo López de Mendoza y de la Vega, Marquis of Santillana (August 19, 1398 - March 25, 1458) was a Castilian poet who held an important position in society and Literature during the reign of John II of Castile. He was born at Carrión de los Condes in Old Castile to a noble family which figured prominently in the arts. His grandfather, Pedro González de Mendoza, and his father, Diego Hurtado de Mendoza Admiral of Castile, were both poets with close ties to the great literary figures of the time: Chancellor Lopez de Ayala, Fernán Pérez de Guzmán and Gomez Manrique. His mother, Doña Leonor de la Vega, was a wealthy heiress belonging to the House of de la Vega. Lopez de Mendoza's father died when he was five years old, which brought his family into financial difficulties. Part of his childhood was spent living in his grandmother's household, and in the home of his uncle, the future Archbishop of Toledo. As a youth, he spent time in the court king Alfonso V of Aragón, where...

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I Lost My Nights

de bayar

I lost my nights with trembling thoughts Around the spirit of growing hope I lost my nights with senseless love All for nothing: nothing from all… I urged myself to bluer skies Like in a fantasy...

The Saddest Poem

de Pablo Neruda

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: \"The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.\" The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write...

PARADISE LOST -- Book IX

de John Milton

Book IX No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us\'d, To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast; permitting him the while Venial discourse...

True love leaves no traces

de Leonard Cohen

As the mist leaves no scar On the dark green hill So my body leaves no scar On you and never will Through windows in the dark The children come, the children go Like arrows with no targets Like...

The End

de Jim Morrison

This is the end Beautiful friend This is the end My only friend, the end Of our elaborate plans, the end Of everything that stands, the end No safety or surprise, the end I\'ll never look into your...

Somewhere in the DARK ... It was a holy man

de Luca Tiberiu

Somewhere in the DARK ... It was a holy man For bein' dead so many lost live Wonder how long before the soul dies, Today I heard you cry for the firs time, It was the worst time The way I heard you...

Another Story Of Lenore

de Alin Niculae

This wave seems to lead me now To the place of Nevermore The place where I will find... Where I will find my lost Lenore. I divide the night in search for love And myst guides me out of sorrow I will...

goodbye to the self

de alexi ionescu

a light shouting in your mind the presence of loneliness coming from behind and what is silence if not a cure spoken forever, never listened for sure i really hurt you with my pain no silly arguments...